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Maybe it was being outside that made us less hostile to one another. If it was, I liked it, and I needed it to last a little while longer.
"That stuff about you not being seen as bisexual," I started, because of course I'd pick the potentially uncomfortable topic. "It must get old."
Sage stared at me for a second. "It does. I like being taken seriously. It's frustrating when people are convinced I'm going through some sort of phase."
I nodded. "My extended family thought that about me, too. They suggested I call myself bi in case I ever wanted to change my mind."
Sage scoffed. "Wow. What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything at the time. When I was younger, I was too embarrassed to argue." I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shrugged. "But my mom did. She told them if I said I was a lesbian, then that's what I was. Period."
Sage's smile lit up her entire face. "Your mom sounds great."
I nodded, smiling too. "She can be, yeah. Both my parents are supportive when they try."
"That's why you're a viper," Sage decided.
"In pastel?" I joked, tilting my head to the side. "I know you're the one who came up with that nickname, by the way."
Sage laughed a little. "Sorry. If you want it changed, I’ll gladly set the record straight."
"It's fine." I shook my head. "It's growing on me."
She nodded, seeming pleased. "Good, because yes, you can be a viper in pastel. It's near impossible to pull off, but only you could do it."
"You're right. Only I could pull something like that off, like my momentous jump to the top ten next week."
Sage shook her head and looked away for a second to laugh. I admired the harsh line of her jaw as she did so. She had always been beautiful, but hot? This hot? No…at least, not from what I recalled. It was the motorcycle, right? The motorcycle was the reason why I wanted to pull her body against mine and kiss her silly. That dangerous vehicle was the only reason I imagined her gripping me tight when I pulled her against me.
Nope, nope, what we're not going to do is think about…that.
Forget all the obvious reasons, like we were part-time rivals and full-time co-workers. I couldn't be with Sage because Sage wouldn't want to be with me. She didn't date women who wore pastel colors and had anxiety problems. She'd made it perfectly clear in college that I wasn't up to snuff.
As I tried to refortify my wall against her, Sage bulldozed through it.
"Do you want to do something? After work?"
I blinked and replayed the question—surely, I'd misheard her. "After work?"
Her expression hardened a bit, but she persisted. "Yeah."
"Like…not in the office? Not doing something for Leisah? Just…us?"
Us. This overgrown maze that got more confusing to navigate each day.
"You know what? Never mind." She finished unclasping her helmet and tugged on her gloves. Sage wasn't meeting my gaze anymore, and my heart was racing to fix that.
"I wanted clarification–"
She waved her hand at me. "Forget I said anything, Noah."
The hard tone she used as she said my name made any butterflies in my stomach die. I frowned. "I don't want to."
"Well then it sucks to be you, because I am," she snapped back. Here we were again, on opposite sides. No camaraderie. No us.
"Fine, Sage. Whatever you say. Whatever you want." Because it was apparently her world, and we were just living in it. I finally unlocked my car door and snatched it open. "Drive safe."
"You too." She turned on her engine before either of us could say another word. I scowled at her as she pulled out of the parking space, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. With a clenched jaw, I slipped into the driver seat of my Beetle and dug my fingers into the steering wheel in frustration.
