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“Is that what you’re writing about in your stories?” Paige asked. “Guys?”
Orange frozen yogurt was spat back out into its cup. “What?” Rhea gasped. “No!”
“Because, believe it or not, I wouldn’t judge you for that.” “Well, it’s not what I’m writing about. Absolutely no guys in any of my stories.”
“All right, all right. I was mostly joking, anyway.”
Still, Paige was curious. Finding out that her wife was putting men in her erotica, even if she wasn’t interested in real life, would have been a revelation. A part of her was partially relieved that wasn’t the case – because that sounded like a potentialminefield –but it also meant Paige still didn’t know what to expect from her wife’s subconscious. She could respect Rhea’s need for privacy. If Paige were writinganything,she wouldn’t want her professional author of a wife to read it. Not until Paige was ready to share.
“I want to know what you’re thinking.” Paige’s spoon, licked clean from the last of her frozen yogurt, waved in Rhea’s direction. “Doesn’t have to be about sex, you know. That’s the danger of marriage between two women. We are the epitome of,Babe, what are you thinking?”
“I bet she’s thinking about another woman…” Rhea quipped.
“Really, she’s thinking about what an actual Barbenheimer movie would be like?”
Rhea grinned. “Can you imagine?”
“Is that what you think about when we’re lying in bed?”
“Yeah, sometimes during sex, too.”
“I knew it.” Paige wadded up her napkin and after grabbing the others that had already been there, shoved them into her empty bowl. “Thinking about Margot Robbie.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not presently.”
“Then what areyouthinking about?”
Paige said the first character to come to her mind. “Kate McKinnon.”
“Come on. That’s a cop-out. We’re all thinking about her.”
“In bed?”
They both got up. “In bed, while making dinner, changing the car oil…”
“Destroying your favorite dolls…”
“They call it ‘playing too hard,’ get it right.”
“Were you the type of girl to destroy your dolls?”
“I felt bad if I even pulled a strand of hair out on accident.” Rhea gathered all the trash into her hands when they reached the garbage bin. “Why?” The door flapped shut. “Were you?”
“Maybe.” Her parents had not been impressed with Paige’s need to cut Barbie’s hair all the time. Didn’t she know it wouldn’t grow back?
“You would be the destructive doll player between the two of us.” Rhea helped herself to some of the hand sanitizer nearby before walking away from the frozen yogurt place.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
They held hands as they wandered back to the park. “You like to play rough, Paige.”
She leaned in closer to her wife when she asked, “Don’t you like it when I play rough?”
Although Rhea froze up, Paige thought nothing of it. If anything, she enjoyed how flustered her wife could get when the topic came up.We don’t want to be too predictable.People with little imagination looked at them as a couple and assumed that Rhea must be the “man” because she had short hair and rarely wore a skirt. First thing Paige always said in return?“There is no man in this marriage. That’s the point!”Yet she also thought about how much she appreciated Rhea not being predictable. Predictable was boring when it came to personalities.
They toured the small amusement park, stopping long enough to watch families with children take on the bumper cars and couples with too much bravado attempting to win prizes at the midway games. Both Paige and Rhea knew better than to try their luck. Besides, that cost money, and if they were spending anything…
