Page 50 of Loving Jemima

The bouncer grinned and let them both inside.

WHEN ELLIE SHOWED up she was wearing tight jeans and a loose shirt that slid off one shoulder and almost sent Jem into heart failure. She opened her mouth to speak and found that the words wouldn’t come out.

“Finally made it then,” Mo chirped. “Carys is getting drinks you two should go and dance.”

Jem shot them a look and Mo looked innocently back.

“You know, guests will be dancing at the party, it’s only fair that you two give it a go and see what the fuss is about. How else will you judge?” said Mo.

“I’ll wait for a drink,” Ellie said sharply. She turned and the colored lights caught her cheekbones and Jem wanted nothing more than to kiss her again.

To distract herself, she looked around the club. People were everywhere, people of every stripe, color and want. There were groups of women laughing together, there were men kissing in corners, there were genderless couples dancing. Everywhere she looked there were people just being… happy. Themselves. People who had no worries here, who were home and could be who they wanted.

And Jem felt her heart rise in her throat, felt her jealousy rise to proportions she couldn’t deal with. Why couldn’t she be like that? Why couldn’t she just be who she wanted to be?

“Drinks,” Carys said, coming with four pints clutched between her hands and gently lowering them onto the table.

“Dancing,” Jem said, suddenly decided. She could have this, even if it was just for a night, just for an hour, just for one song.

“That’s my girl,” Mo said, grasping Carys’s hand and pulling her toward the dance floor.

Jem looked at Ellie who was shaking her head.

And she did something that she didn’t think she’d ever done before.

“Please?” she asked, softly and sincerely and honestly.

Ellie bit her lip.

“Get out here,” Mo called. “Come on, you two.”

And reluctantly, Ellie held out her hand. “I suppose one dance can’t hurt.”

Then Jem was pulling her in, putting a hand on her waist, feeling her skin, her breath, feeling the way her body moved under her clothes. And she knew that she was totally and completely lost.

One dance became two, then three, then time stopped meaning anything and all Jem could think about was Ellie, her face shining, her skin sweaty as they moved to the music, silent and yet communicating so much more than they had with words.

Until Jem was pulling her closer, until she was pulling her in and kissing her, right there in public in front of who knew how many people, until she was tasting that sweet, cinnamon taste of her again and knowing that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without this.

And Ellie didn’t pull back.

It was Jem who finally ended it, the band calling a break, the noise of the club dimming for long enough that they could hear each other speak.

“Sorry,” Jem said.

Ellie looked at her, eyes dark. “I should be sorry. I should be the one who stopped that. I’m the one who set the rules, I’m sorry.”

Jem narrowed her eyes. “Can’t you go against the rules, live without them?”

“What would life be without rules?” said Ellie.

But her lips were still swollen from the kiss. “One night,” Jem said. “Live without the rules for just one night.”

“You just want sex,” Ellie said, standing taller.

Jem shook her head. “No sex. No one night stands. I told you. But just for tonight, please, let’s just… just be.”

Ellie hesitated, then looked around. “Where are Mo and Carys?”