Page 61 of Obedience

Moving onto her side to face Greta, Dylan gently brushed her hair over her shoulder. ‘You want me?’ she asked softly.

‘I don’t know what it will look like. I don’t even know you, for Christ’s sake, but I want you. I don’t just want sex with you. I want you, Dylan.’

A single tear fell down Dylan’s face, her tattooed fingers scrubbing at it quickly. She draped herself over Greta again, resting her head on her chest. ‘We can get to know each other properly. We can date,’ Dylan said.

‘Date?’ Greta scoffed, tousling Dylan’s soft curls with the tips of her fingers.

‘Yeah, date. Like, I’ll date you, you’ll date me, we’ll date each other. Dates will be had, and dating will happen.’ Dylan’s hopeful smile pushed against Greta’s chest. ‘Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend. We can just—’

‘Well, thank God, because forty-nine is too old to be someone’s girlfriend.’

The numbers felt heavy as they left her mouth. She braced herself with a long, steadying breath.

‘You’re forty-nine?’

‘A-ha.’

‘Do you like dogs or cats?’ Dylan asked, without missing a beat.

‘What?’ Greta laughed at the unexpected question, making Dylan’s head bob on her chest.

‘It’s a simple question, Doctor Vincent. Dogs or cats?’

‘Dogs.’

‘Oh, thank fuck for that,’ Dylan breathed, rolling onto her back and splaying a hand dramatically on her own chest. ‘I don’t like cats. Never trust something that will look you dead in the eye while it knocks your drink over.’ Greta laughed as Dylan kissed her before wriggling closer again. ‘So that’s the important question out of the way.’

‘That’s it? That’s all you need to know?’

‘Yep. You’ll come to know I’m very surface level, Greta,’ she joked. ‘I don’t need anything else. I know you’re a U-hauler, so we’ll have to decide where we’re living soon, and I know we’ll be adopting some dogs. I think that’s everything. Isn’t it?’

Dylan draped a leg over Greta’s thighs. Greta’s hand rested on Dylan's calf, holding her there.

‘Nothing about the fact that I’m almost fifty? No?’

‘I couldn’t give less of a shit, G. My mum will probably die young. She can’t take much more. I’m watching her ebb away. I have no family…I’m trying to get through my fucking dissertation. I’ll need to get a job soon. I really don’t see how you being a bit older has any bearing on whether or not we try.’

‘A bit?’ Greta drew in a breath. ‘Although your generation loves to YOL— ’

‘My generation?’ Dylan snorted.

‘You can’t YOLO your way through something so significant.’

‘I’ve never said YOLO before in my life and I don’t intend to start now.’ Dylan blew a huff of air through her nose. ‘Did you hear any of what I just said?’ she asked earnestly.

‘I’m listening, yes.’

‘You didn’t hear me, though, did you?’ Dylan pushed her arm under her head, eyes fixed on Greta’s as she straightened the throw over them. Greta’s brow furrowed. ‘Of the things I just said, you plucked out age as the biggest issue? The biggest hurdle we’d face?’

‘Real life doesn’t care about issues and hurdles,’ Greta countered. ‘It cares about what it can gossip about. What it can hate, what it can other, rather than face or try to understand.’

‘Listen, Greta,’ Dylan said, sounding suddenly serious, making Greta’s stomach lurched. ‘If Sarah P and Holland T can do it—’

‘Steady on, Dylan, I’m not eighty.’

Dylan chuckled and pressed a kiss to Greta’s chest. ‘Greta, it isn’t the nineties. Things are better now. People don’t care who’s with who and if they do, fuck ‘em.’ Greta quirked a brow. ‘Do you like me?’ Dylan asked quickly.

‘No, it isn’t the nineties but—’