Their face brightened with excitement, and they grabbed his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and tugged him toward the backyard. They twined their fingers with his without a second’s hesitation, as if they’d done it a million times, and Dex’s chest swelled with warmth, his tummy flip-flopping.
Behind the house, past the pool, stood a small garage-like structure. It was too big to be a shed but too small to fit a vehicle. Dex had noticed it last week, but he’d never asked what it was. He just assumed it was a rich-person thing, like a little house to hold the Vysov family scarf collection or something.
Cya led him inside, clicking on the overhead lights. He didn’t recognize most of what he saw, beyond several work benches, a stand-alone, industrial sink, and numerous tall shelving units holding boxes and boxes of stones. The air smelled like metal and rock and burning things.
“This is where I make my jewelry,” they said as they released his hand and moved further into the space. “I store my rough stones here, and after they’ve finished their tumbling cycles, I move them to the racks over here.”
They moved around the shed, pointing everything out.
“I smelt some metal, but I’m still not very good at it,” they admitted, gesturing to a furnace-like contraption. “I’m much better at soldering."
With every question and curiosity he voiced, the more animated Cya grew as they described how they prepared their stones as main pieces for their jewelry. They showed him the tumblers and the machines that spun them, then they explained all about media, polishing agents, and the different abrasives they called grit.
“You can tumble different kinds of rocks together but only if they’re the same hardness. If you mix hard and soft rocks, then the soft ones will break or get ground to dust,” they said as they inspected a small pile of shiny stonethrough a large magnifying glass. “Even then, they can still scratch each other sometimes.”
Tugging on his arm, they directed him to study the magnified rock. “See this?” Their fingernail traced a small imperfection on the rock’s surface. “This could be a malformation in the rock itself, but it could have been caused by another rock in the tumbler.”
“Can you fix it?” he asked, and they shook their head.
“Not exactly. I’ll still put it through to the next phrase and hope it smooths out, but it also might crack all the way through. You don’t always know.”
He watched them sort through the pile, inspecting each one carefully before they moved to the next. “How come you don’t just buy the stones already shiny?”
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” With a wry smile, they knocked his shoulder with theirs. “I really enjoy the refining process, actually. It’s interesting and challenging. Each batch of stones is different, every rock unique.”
They led him to one of the shelving units and rose high on their tail to pilfer through the boxes on the top shelf. When they teetered on compromised balance, Dex steadied them, hands on either side of their butt, and they shot him a chiding brow arch but didn’t condemn him further. So he didn’t move his hands.
Lowering back down, Cya faced him, a rock in each hand. “This is the same stone.”
In their right hand was a smooth, polished stone of cloudy white with veins and large splotches of deep green throughout. In their left hand, they held a rough, jagged chunk of grayish rock. They didn’t look at all alike.
“These are both moss agate,” they expounded, holding up the ugly one for him to see. “This is what it looks like normally, untouched by everything but nature. It’s dirty and sharp and even a bit ugly. No one would look twice at it or think it could be useful beyond thickening your driveway.”
They lowered their left hand and lifted their right. “This is what moss agate looks like at the end of the process. The sharp edges are smoothed out, the dirt washed away. Every rough crevasse has been polished until the design can finally be seen.
“It’s the same stone,” they repeated, cheeks flushed with passion. “It only needed someone to look past the exterior to discover what’s inside. Every stone is like that, its own unique beauty hiding under the layers built up to protect itself from the elements. You never know what you’ll get until you reach the end.”
A soft smile curled their lips as they gazed down at the rocks in their hands. “I think there’s something quite lovely about that. Even when we think that what we see is all there is, there’s usually more; we just have to look.”
“It’s beautiful,” Dex whispered, and Cya’s smile grew until their dimple carved into their cheek.
“Yes, moss agate is gorgeous. It’s one of my favorites.”
He hadn’t been talking about the rocks, but he didn’t bother clarifying. “That’s really cool how you know all this stuff.”
Cya ducked their head, cheeks darkening with a bashful blush. The contrast between the brazen Sypent who’d sent him a recording of their orgasm and the shy, inexperienced person standing before him now was difficult to marry. Cya’s surety and even their vanity were hot, but he liked their softness even more.
They wore confidence like armor, but with Dex, they trusted him enough to lay their shield and weapons down. It made him feel special and important. It made him feel powerful and strong, like he could be their armor instead. He’d protect their gooey center so they wouldn’t feel the need to hide it away anymore.
Turning away from him, they returned the moss agate to the shelves. “It’s probably a bit silly, getting excited about rocks—”
“It’s not,” he interjected, hooking them around the waist and pulling them in. “It’s awesome, and you’re awesome and talented and creative. It’s really cool hearing how passionate you are about it.”
They smacked his chest half-heartedly, even as their rattle shook happily. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he challenged, and they clicked their tongue at him.
“You just want to make out,” they accused, and he shrugged.
