— ‹ reverie. ❜

Send Stella a sex playlist. 

She’d surely forget but it was the only thing in her head as the lightest jazz piano played for them. It reminded her of Casablanca, a cinematic bore that she hadn’t seen in years though Stella would have rivaled that leading lady with ease. Her features were so soft and her eyes were dark and utterly enticing. Of all the bars in all of Bellevue Stella had walked into the one she liked to frequent. Sid was no Rick, she enjoyed feigned romance and only ever replicated what she’d seen before, holding doors, buying drinks and remaining suave. No man, woman or person in between had ever had Sid James on a date, no-one had ever shown her romance and thusly it was not for her to have. Imitation was the form she cared to enjoy, knowing her own limitations. Change came so easily to her in other avenues but breaking personal rules she’d made in her youth proved near impossible for her. 

She needs a better playlist. 

Distracted by that vibrato voice she lost any train of thought she had, not that there was much to be thought about outside of Stella. 

Sid could only roll her eyes at the woman’s antics, always so strangely endeared by her mannerisms. So many quirks that even the less observant would note as entirely Stella Rosenthal-esque. Her smile offered so much warmth and the artist intended to bathe and bake herself in its glow. Though there was a hint of something that Sid passed over entirely, her eyes growing glassy. Stella was far in a way more emotionally intelligent than Sid would ever be, taking time to cry and caring for other people, it was a world that the tattoo artist had reserved the right to know nothing of. It was only an offbeat of something so she didn’t think to linger or pay it much mind. Perhaps Stella’s own questionable foreplay playlist was placing her in amongst her feelings, music did tend to do that to the non-stoic folk who Sid found to be entirely inscrutable. 

“Light and gay?” Her voice was a warning growl against Stella’s lips, the setup to a joke but her desirous streak thought less of clever wordplay and more of shedding layers. “You really set yourself…” Sid took the opportunity to pick the blonde up, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another around thighs to support her. “Up sometimes.” It wasn’t true, but it was absolutely true in that moment. There was an element of Sid letting her want build so voracious that she would have taken anything the conservator had to say just to twist it to suit. All she wanted was to be wrapped up in sheets while getting a chance to familiarize herself once more with a truly unforgettable body. She’d never be able to say something like that aloud however, Stella being so much more than a body and a set of luxurious sheets. But that made little difference in the throes of things she supposed, pleasure was satiating and her hunger had been undeniable. 

The taller of the two changed their scenery, from one manicured room to the other; a bedroom that had always served them well. Sid laid Stella onto her bed gently, lips still against hers, knowing that for the rest of the evening she’d be dedicated to being as close to the woman as she was let. 

In choppy and cold water its always advised to never try to fight the current, it burns energy and leaves very little hope of survival. In warm shallows, Sid tended to do the very same not out of any kind of survival instinct, but rather an observant understanding that the ripples she sent out would keep her afloat. Stella was a curator and managed her energy, a measured and premeditated young siren, ready to drown. Sid played no games with her level of investment, it was lax and informal which differed greatly from Stella’s regality and her elegant ways of enchantment. She seemed to ebb in off a breeze and sweep all that she wished out with her tide. Sometimes Sid was chosen and sometimes she wasn’t, there was no mistaking Stella’s intent, her attention always directed so intentionally. The artist had not mastered that skill, she a cultureless magpie flitting to whatever and whoever shone the brightest. It was no coincidence that when sharing a room with Stella all of her attention usually funneled towards the blonde, reciprocated or not. It was fun to be so drawn in by someone, she felt like a child experiencing waves for the first time, the undertow dangerous but still eliciting giddy and cheerful laughter. She played in the waves and found her way to her back where she floated contently in the shallows. Sid was in the in-between again, steps away from land and steps away from an abyss. It wasn’t about picking either side, it was flowing between the two, stretching her legs in the sand of others and then wading out sea again. Not a voyager or a soon to be drowned sailor, a tourist, just relaxing in amongst the sights. 

Not that Ophelia wasn’t illuminating company, but her mother just had a tendency to steal the show. When she noticed movement inside she made no move to follow it, instead she stood in the stillness of the balcony and watched. Even just to watch her was a pleasure, though perhaps the whiskey added to the way she seemed to glide from room to room. The artist would never be able to deny her beauty. Most real authentic beautys’ were mean or at the very least vain and that was something to take away from their aesthetic but Stella was good, thoroughly and strangely good. Sid’s eyes watched Stella’s dainty and dangerous fingers dance around her chest and surely that was a signal to ravish her. In truth, she knew she was signing she just didn’t have a clue what the woman was saying. Her talent of reading hands was hit and miss at the best of times and especially when Stella had the figure of a dancer she found it hard to concentrate on the very specialized nuance of sign language. Sid took another drag of her cigarette and it burned itself right down to the filter, the intake of breath so great when taking in such a mesmerizing thing. The tap on the glass caused a knee-jerk reaction, her thumb and forefinger instantly flicking the butt out off the balcony into the Bellevue night. “Oaf, your mom’s calling you.” They did enjoy their games and Sid offered her words with a fond grin, knowing their antics had reached a climax. “I know you weren’t trying to call me cute.” The artist shot at the blonde as she crossed over the threshold back into the apartment. Her strides were powerful and fluid, her glass laid to rest on the nearest side table before she found herself a breath away from the woman she wished to devour. Sid spotted the glass in Stella’s hand and only saw it as an obstacle to be overcome. Her hand came to procure it and she sipped deeply before repeating her actions and setting it down carelessly. “God’s not going to help you tonight.” The artist was now focused, the woman in front of her no longer encumbered by anything to stop her. “Not now anyway.” Her hands found familiar hips, slender and lithe and terribly tempting. But the time for being tempted and teased was over, it was time to act on their little game and give in to each other. In the land of Gods and monsters, Sid was something of a hybrid. She was animalistic and experienced, leading to why one of her hands had left Stella’s hip and grasped her jaw, fingertips indenting the blonde’s rosy cheeks. Finally, to begin their evening she kissed her, an intense embrace to remind them both how long they’d gone without each other. 

Time stands still in grief, though it marches ever forward regardless. Your life moves forward, even if another’s no longer does. There is the initial death, and then more minute ones as reality continues to strike over and over. One year becomes two, becomes three, becomes eight. There have been several times Stella had lifted a phone to share exciting news, and punched in the number by heart, only to be met with the harsh sting of a dial tone and silence instead of mirth-filled laughter and well wishes. Somehow, that made him feel even further away. Things can not simply return to normal after a loss has happened, but rather a new normal is created. There is no predetermined time to grieve, and any such notions are so entirely wrong. Stella has bloomed in the aftermath of her downward spiral, but there are days she would give it all up just to go back for one more moment. There are days when the charm and vigor she inherited have fled her. There are days when it feels like her life has bled out and an unsettling void has taken its place. She felt as drained as the whiskey glass when it vanished from her hand. She was emptier than it became in a matter of seconds, though she wanted nothing more than the familiar burn to choke out the sob trapped in her throat. Sid was far from cute -- that was far too diminutive for such a lethal countenance and intoxicating presence. Stella was quick to finally close the gap she had placed between them. She finally surrendered to the artist, ready to clash and carve hips like they were creating a masterpiece. Her hand gently wove through Sid’s hair as Stella bore it all, and would quite literally soon enough. 

I'll be seeing you In all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces

The floaty, nostalgic notes had Stella tense up, though she tried to keep the recoil as imperceptible as possible beneath Sid’s touch. Her hand traveled lower to land in the small of the artist’s back and came to rest with a slight, directional pull. Closer. So much closer, and forward. Stella took a half step backward, though she yearned to lurch and cut off Billie Holiday unceremoniously. It was a slow retreat with each word bubbling up a memory of two other voices singing along, yet one had been silenced far too long ago. The vocals were more haunting yet tangible than her grandfather ever would be, and tonight, Stella would prefer to dance with the beauty in her arms and not with the ghosts in her head. 

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day

“In everything that's light and gay,” Stella parted long enough to dramatize and echo before letting both voices fall silent. She aimed a smile in Sid’s direction though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. A blind finger was fumbling to change the song while teary eyes averted from the green pair before her, though Stella’s touch soon found Sidney once more. “Things just caught me off guard,” she offered, not quite an apology. One wasn’t necessary and one small bump in the road should not derail an entire evening. The past weeks held missed connections and blatant detours, though there was only one destination for two bodies. The bedroom. She pressed herself against the artist and pivoted them smoothly in that direction. “Where were we?” Her fingers traced Sid’s jawline before she let her mouth go back to saying things unsaid as she made a step to continue the night forward. 

To Nathan, the nightlife had long become such a big part of his being, that it didn’t hold as much excitement anymore as it used to. Some nights had different energies to them, as did the people he’d meet while working at the bar or going out himself but it had long lost that fulfilling feeling he’d been craving for so long whenever he’d gone out back in New York City. He was older now and maybe just that little more jaded but ultimately, he felt comfortable around the presence of strangers who wouldn’t judge him for drinking on his own and allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts for a while. That night was a different story though and while Nathan craved to be alone, he didn’t want to feel lonely. Coming here had seemed like a better option and a way to achieve that until the stranger snapped him out of it – which could be a good thing as far as he was concerned. “I appreciate it a lot,” Nathan told her with a grin as he joined her, walking right behind her and he had to admit, he felt relieved. This was enough to distract him from the reality he didn’t want to face for a moment and he grinned. “I’m a creature of habit so I’ll just go for another gin and tonic,” he told her, holding up his empty glass for emphasis.

we’re gonna do the cliche bump into each other move bc starters and i don’t know how to function together: @stellarosenthal

          Luca was one of those people that walked the streets of downtown Bellevue with a notebook in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other practically always. He was constantly making notes of everything and anything that gave him any type of muse when walking and the coffee was something he felt he needed. Not only to encourage his already horrible ability to sleep but also slightly cure the ever growing tiredness he felt piling onto him day in and day out. It was a little ironic, the way he went on millions of walks and more than half of those walks his head was burred in a notebook rather than really and truly living out in the world he was trying to get inspiration from. It was counter productive but Luca still did it, constantly. 

Doing his best to hold onto his coffee while he pulled out a pen and started scribbling down a few notes, Luca continued to walk down the sidewalk. That was until he felt himself bump into someone else causing him to drop his notebook while trying his best to hold onto the hot cup of coffee in his hand. “I am so, I’m so sorry.” He began, looking up at the other only to realize it was the familiar blonde. Stella Rosenthal, there were so many things about the girl that were a complete mystery but there was also so many things about her that Luca felt they had in common. Which Luca didn’t know whether to hate or like that about her being that he wasn’t the biggest fan of himself. Hell, he did his best to be different people in order to run away from who he was. “Oh hey, it’s been awhile.” 

Stella’s mind was something she could slip into and spend hours lost in thought -- some for the better, some for worse. She had slipped into daydreams often as a child to escape a dull day and to fill a cloudy sky with sunnier ideals. There was so much to sift through, yet she tried not to delve deeper into murkier thoughts. There were different facets of her career and whimsies to occupy a wandering brain, though an unsettled heart had been throbbing and refused to be ignored despite her best efforts. Roaming thoughts commanded all of her focus despite a fragile painting lurking in her studio needed it far more. 

landonvolta‌:

if the three muskateers were a possible alcoholic (landon), a pro heartbreaker (sid), and a fallen angel (stella) that are all mentally unstable: @sidjcmes & @stellarosenthal

        Landon had played his fair share of sports, nothing in school or anything like that but he’d played catch, makeshift baseball in a empty field, a game of basketball where shoving and pushing were definitely allowed, he’d played tackle football with a few kids in his area growing up. He knew sports, although they weren’t organized by any school and were put together by a few dudes that just wanted something to do with their time. Landon wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to playing certain sports for fun. Of course, if playing anything at a professional level, he’d probably look like an idiot but luckily that wasn’t this. Tennis on the other hand, it wasn’t exactly something he’d ever played with the fellow kids growing up. 

Obviously, he knew the gist of how it worked. You used the racket and you hit the tennis ball back and forth. Then of course there was the grunting or scream sound you’d hear the players make when watching the sport on TV, couldn’t be that difficult, right? Sporting some basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and a backwards baseball cap, Landon shook his head slightly while shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think I need a lesson, alright. Couldn’t be too hard, right? Just hit the fucking ball back and forth?” There was no question he was all talk, especially never playing tennis in his life and then of course the fact that the sport was actually a lot more difficult than people gave it credit for. “Fuck, we could even make it a drinking game. Whenever Sid misses the ball, we drink. I’m sure even wasted I’d be able to fucking kill at this.” 

Was athletism Sid’s strong suit? Maybe. She hadn’t played sports in about ten years but what was to say that she didn’t still have that youthful pep about her? Probably the cigarettes, they’d probably get in the way of any kind of prowess Sidney James could have in this impromptu coaching session. In thinking on whether or not she’d ever actually played tennis was mostly a blur. It was mixed memories of summers playing on a concrete tennis court with no net and her high school gym class teacher doing their level best to try to pair up kids of the same skill levels. Sid was the type to hit the ball right out of the court to have a moment of solace. Her poor serving then certainly wouldn’t serve her now. There was nothing in her past experience to rely on but there was only one objective that she had all of her energy directed towards; if nothing else, be better than Landon. It was a simple task and one that she strove towards every day when the opportunity arose. This would be no different and she would offer him no mercy. 

The lesson wasn’t as much a teaching opportunity for Stella as it was a stage for Sid to model an impressive high fashion sporting look she’d managed to pull together on such short notice. It started with a Google search because she had no frame of reference and wasn’t about to slack by staying safe in athleisure. That then progressed into a heavy leaning towards crisp whites and she ventured to vintage hotspots with an outfit already formulated in her head. She’d turned up hair pristine as always, a pair of white Nike’s she’d found which were an utter steal and a pair of white track shorts with a black trim that came to her right out of the 70s, sitting right on her hips, dangerous thigh slits and all. On top, a sports bra with a similar trim, a classic Nike tick giving her all the affirmation she needed. The other option had been a polo shirt but she saw no sense in impeeding her play with so much unnecessary clothing. “If you knew anything about tennis you’d know that half the game is having a better outfit than your opponent.” Sid gave a glance Landon’s way over the top of her sunglasses, one that spoke volumes of her small victory. “But I suppose that’s for the coach to decide.” The impeccably dressed amateur noted before turning her attention to their charitable teacher. 

@stellarosenthal​

Stella’s pep and celebratory nature of even the smallest victories had never belonged to a varsity cheer team. She was known to sprint from whimsy to another, but her desire to connect with others had never been framed under the lens of team sports. She had crafted a svelte figure from a delicate balance of craft beer and different classes. Her prowess belonged to a more artistic variety and her athletic accolades found their niche out in nature. She liked being able to take things at her own pace, be it a vigorous swim followed by a leisurely float, or a serene session on a paddleboard, Stella’s outdoor adventures and mood both lifted when temperatures did. They could be solo or shared with an unfortunate soul should she manage to rope a victim into the thick of things. Her favored intentions involved something of the more intense sort followed by a yoga class to wind down a long week -- a preemptive apology for a weekend’s worth of potential debauchery when in certain company. 

The biggest offenders of perpetrating nights devolving accordingly stood before her. Tennis was one of the rare things that truly flared up Stella’s competitive spirit. She had a natural penchant for it in her youth, though things blossomed in the heat of summer in the Hamptons. At Columbia, Stella had linked up with one individual that saw her as little more than a future vision in white -- and not just Tennis. She was more than the daft beauty he wanted on his arm. She had more than a vapid degree that still held merit in claustrophobic social circles but was utterly flimsy compared to his law degree. Stella could be dazzling in her own right, but would not dull herself down. In their third summer together, the grunts and huffs exerted in Tennis became the closest they got to screaming matches in polite society. The rest lurked behind closed doors, and Stella’s need to dominate had bubbled to the surface. In that third summer, Stella discovered that ‘Love’ really did mean nothing. She had set out to reclaim this with happier memories and the three racquets displayed her intentions as she eyed her companions. She was a poised, pristine vision, complete with pleats and perky ponytail to prove it. The faintest, gossamer whisper of an inked honeybee wing poked out to link the blonde to Landon and Sid as she shot them a smug smile. “Do I look like the kind of person you’d hate yet? Don’t answer that,” she decided and unzipped a racquet from its case before pointing it at her victims. “Which one of you will end up splayed on the ground, while we stand over your body and caption the photo ‘tennis corpse?’” @landonvolta

He grabbed her pinkie with his own and kissed his thumb to solidify the promise. “Yeah, yeah, I know. No feelings,” he repeated back. Stella was someone that he loved unconditionally- he already knew that if he ever became involved in a serious relationship that the other person would have to accept her. Cooper looked at her softly and tried his best to prevent his jaw from dropping once the name was revealed. “Sid?!” Although he liked Sid, he couldn’t help but feel himself becoming overprotective. Sid was beautiful and bold, sexy yet soft; her appearance was dangerous but her personality could easily be defined as warm. “Well, after hearing that it’s Sid I figured out that you were the pillow princess,” he commented with a faint smirk. Coop shook his head a bit. “I mean…,” he sighed as he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to being in a relationship- the idea of it was nice. Having someone to come home to, someone to talk to, plus the added bonus of sex. “There are a lot of really fine men and women in the city but, I don’t really have my eye on anyone per say. Right now it’s just me and my hand, and I guess I’m alright with that,” he smiled. 

Stella pressed her lips to her own thumb to confirm the vow. Nothing had been as soft as the tween romance she had once shared with her companion, but she was glad he was still in her life and remained close under different measures. Love was a fickle thing to Stella - she had such capacity for it but struggled under the weight of it when things turned heavy. Her heart had been treated unkindly and she had shuttered it away for safekeeping. She kept parts of it open for the eternal softness she tried to offer in other ways, and so much of it was aimed at her friends. Sid fell into that category, and Stella did not plan to offer what the other did not seek. She gave a small laugh and shake of her head. “I can guarantee that Sid has not seen the signature move of ‘Judgemental Corpse.’” She gave a vague smirk of her own before letting her nose crinkle as a puff of laughter escaped. “Ewwww,” she dramatized, making a show of dropping his hand before hers sought it out once more. “There are some pretty people,” she affirmed with a nod. It was usually enough to satiate the dull ache in her chest when balanced with more intimate moments, even of the platonic variety, such as this. “I hope you find one, Coop. You deserve it.”

“Musician.” He responded, a little thankful she didn’t know who he was. It was refreshing sometimes. “In Bellevue? Tough call.” He found the place pretty boring in comparison to the rest of the world. “I feel like saying a record store would be too cliche. Y’know, I’ll settle for some of the parks ‘round here. I don’t get a lot of nature while I’m on the road and even if I do, I sometimes don’t have time for it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Stella affirmed. It was always exciting when one followed their truest passions with genuine fervor. “Or anywhere,” she offered as clarification. The urge to step out of the small corner of the world that held them was ever present. A lifetime had been spent in Bellevue, but it was entirely enthralling when she stumbled upon something new the city had to offer. “I like where the water and a twinkling skyline converge - a little bit of everything.” Was it enough? That was still to be determined. “What do you play?”

Potential power. Again Stella managed to wrap her lips around the most accurate phraseology. Sid knew all too well the potential power of words, how they grew into fantastical monstrosities that could ruin a young mind before it ever had the chance to flourish. She’d been riddled with words that had maimed her, ones with the ability oppress her most authentic and true nature. She’d been different since childhood but it was made known to her when she was about fourteen. What an easy dig loser was to cope with over the more niche little words that seemed to burn her. Strange, weird, odd and their derivatives all had their places in the hall of infamy in her mind. They stung every time and Sid was sure they’d soon emblazon themselves across her uncomfortable chest, hefty and unwanted but scarring nonetheless. Words had always been used to separate Sid, othering her and leaving her feeling like a satellite orbiting and never allowed to land amongst the normal and well adjusted. Out there; Sid was always so out there. The way she dressed, the way she acted and certainly in the way that she hoped people might respect her autonomy. The most dastardly form of power was disregard. They was too much for ignorant mouths to taste, he was impossible and she was suffocating. The traveling helped words lose their meaning. It didn’t matter what strangers said, they didn’t know her, nor did they have to and she could leave when she’d had enough and meet more new strangers to startle. 

Sid had broken a few locks in her time out of pure brute force and Stella’s lackadaisical attempt to find her keys made her want to add another success to her tally. Divinely torturous but there really was only so much that the artist could take before she devoured the woman on her own doorstep. Neighbors be damned, they’d be thrilled and treated by the show. The jingle of keys brought her back from the edge she stumbled dangerously close to. She slipped into the familiar apartment behind its owner, hands already moving to find Stella’s hips. And like the glancing sway of a fleeting midnight dance, she was out of reach as quickly as she was in. One beat and Stella was away, knowing her addiction all too well and leaving her feeling entirely on show. All she wished for them both was to be exposed but she figured that would come. Sid watched the last of her blonde curls bounce to her bedroom, a single button undone to turn her blouse from formal to frisky. “It’s you and me, Oaf.” The tall tattooist noted as Ophelia’s attention had been drawn to the intruder. Sid bent down to scratch her behind the ear and it was as if they were right back to the friendship they’d cultivated in the midst of many late night escapades. As any polite houseguest, she made a point to greet the love of Stella’s life before being the lust of her evening. Sid stood herself up and swayed in the stupor that Stella often left her in, still standing but a gust of wind would surely knock the artist in her direction. 

The wet bar called to her and Ophelia seemed to hear too, following her footfalls beat for beat. Two neat whiskeys were poured and even the mere thought of ice was a wasteful one so she avoided it. Her mind had turned roguish. She was to be pleased and the question of how and by who was beyond her. With a single whiskey in her hand, she led her newly gained companion to the balcony. A cigarette was the perfect amount of fresh air necessary for how deeply she planned to drown herself in everything Stella Rosenthal. If she had two free hands they’d surely rub themselves together greedily over all the night would offer her, the satisfaction, the satiation, and self-indulgence. Instead, she took sips from her tumbler, drags from her smoke and her eyes watched Ophelia fondly. A moment of meditation to center herself before she turned positively molten when finally in the company of a woman who had decided clothing was more important. The only woman Sid knew to be overdressed in lingerie, always wishing to extirpate each shred and thread that concealed her finest art. “I’m glad she found me tonight. You know, I’d been talking to someone else and she appeared out of nowhere. If I was going to be haunted, I’d be pretty lucky to have that lady bothering me.” Hot and bothered by the wispy hand of a spectral Stella would surely do her just fine. “We’re going to have a good time tonight.” Sid grinned before the guilt knocked at her ribs and she hunkered down to the blonde sitting patiently in front of her. She suffered a lack of hands and so she let her cigarette sit between her lips, puffing and exhaling gently as she brought a hand to Ophelia’s coat. “You’re not going to see much of us, because if you did it’d be a lot of us, you know? But if I stay over I’ll make sure to get you back in the morning. Sound good?” 

To an outsider’s eyes, Stella had barely lasted one drink before slipping out into the night and into a frenzied, frantic hunger hidden amongst the blonde’s stealthier movements and the delicate intwining of fingers. She managed to capture both energies -- a fervent desire for ruination and a coy detachment of nonchalance. One whiskey paled in comparison of the intoxicating Sidney James, though Stella boasted ownership of her own type of beguiling spirit. The two offered smooth words and lines, chased with a knowing look from Stella’s honeyed hues that slipped so easily from mischief to something more demure. Several encounters have been building up for the night’s festivities when she chose this evening to lure the artist into her clutches. Stella offered a rare glimpse into the magnitudes that lurked within, though few had ever been allowed to dive in deep. Sid was offered warm waters, dotted with treasures swept in from a rare storm of the curator’s emotions. Stella had crafted herself to be akin to a most mesmerizing tide pool while the depths remained uncharted. She was where sea and land met - a steady, rocky formation of kindness and strength, yet fluid and endless in other ways. Footing at times could be unsteady when choppier waters pulled shifting sands away from the shore, swirling and vexatious. The storms were mostly internal yet they churned up new whimsies within the surprisingly mercurial beauty. Stella clung to unexpected surfaces like a starfish, yet she could be as evasive as an octopus when she felt the need to be. 

A storm had been brewing, but Stella angled her eyes upwards in a quiet plea of assistance to stave it off for one final evening. She had teased and tortured them both as she set off into the night linked on the arm of another the last after delivering the final blow of an evening in the form of a chaste peck on the cheek the last few times they had danced so close to the edge. It was something so small and flippant, yet daringly brash in the peripheral of different partners. She slithered down the hall and basked in the knowledge she would soon be coiled around her prey. The door to her bedroom closed with a soft click, though her eyes lingered upon the still image. There were occasions when another form followed suit, choosing to cut the superfluous but rewarding image Stella was painting for the night. It was that much sweeter to unfold her slowly, to strip away the delicate silk, to slip a finger beneath a strap binding the beauty from freedom. She was no damsel in distress, but she would give the chivalrous Sid the honor of slaying the tangle of silk and lace. An earring was being settled into a lobe when her eyes lifted to angry, red reflection in the mirror. The hour on the clock had ticked past and brought forth the scathing reminder of her grandfather’s passing as the date had faded from one to the next. The pang in her heart throbbed as she lifted a picture frame to peer down upon it. Eyes so much like her own reflected back, and a single, cinematic tear welled up and rolled down her cheek as she settled the memory face down upon her nightstand. Stella launched herself back into the living room and gravitated over to the waiting tumbler. A single finger was extended toward the balcony before a flat palm came to rest over her heart before arcing in a circular motion. One moment, please. The whiskey was downed past lips threatening to coil into a grimace, though Stella solved that problem by pouring three more fingers worth. She gave a small tap upon the glass door of the balcony as she slunk past. She would not let her evening be derailed by her grief, and most certainly not when such a distraction was at the ready. Stella turned on some music as she turned her attention back to Sidney. She was ready to bury her ache further down for later, and her head into one tattooed neck. “Get your cute self over here, or so help me God.”

With every answer received, Cooper leaned forward in anticipation. From a distance the two of them looked as if they belonged in an episode of Sex and the City. “Stella!” he exclaimed, playfully pushing her shoulder. His heart started beating double time for her, touched to see how genuinely happy she appeared. “I am so glad that you’re telling me this face to face,” he brought his hand to his chest, “but another part of me can’t believe you waited!” He laughed and crossed his legs, looking at her the same way he did when he was a child. “I’m definitely throwing my own judgement out here- this sounds like a crush.” He threw his hands up defensively, his way of showing that he wouldn’t pry anymore. At least about the technicalities of labels. “Soo…,” he held out and bit his lip, eagerly waiting to hear her answers to questions he hadn’t even asked yet. “Who is it? Top or bottom? And uh, how exclusive is it?”

Stella and Sid would never cross the threshold into romance, and of that she was sure. Neither was in a place to morph what they had into anything else. It simply was what they allowed and wanted it to be -- midnight trysts and salacious glances across a gallery. There were times when their eyes only found each other, the masterpieces on the wall or Stella’s work table be damned. A crush was as far as it would go, though Stella was not yet swayed to classify it as such. Other bodies found themselves between both sets of sheets, and Stella was content to leave it at that. The favouredness and frequency of her selection of Sidney James had been dully noted, but this was not an exclusive endeavor for either of them. “It’s nothing to write home about, Coop.” Stella crossed her finger over her chest before holding a palm up like a pledge, “you know I don’t do feelings, but if that ever changes, you will be the very first to know.” She extended her pinky out for a promise -- the pinnacle of solemnity back in the day. “It’s Sid, and we’re just having a little fun is all it is. I like when she’s around over when she’s not, but that’s that.” She elbowed him playfully, “Have your eye on anyone?”