4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

To Kinsey, the next couple of months seemed to fly by. Her current day job was as a waitress in a stupidly hip Nashville coffee bar. Her colleagues were nice enough and the customers seemed to fall into two camps - either rude or flirtatious - and Kinsey, being apt at both languages, was able to make enough in tips to make the otherwise lousy wage work for her.

"What are you doing, daydreaming?" The afternoon manager Chrissie waved her hand in front of Kinsey's face and gestured at the two waiting coffees in front of her she was staring at, glazed. She blinked, and ferried them out to the table, unsure how long she'd spaced for. It wasn't daydreaming she'd been doing but song-arrangement. Cassidy had brought something to her the day before - a cute sparkling new love kind of thing, with a solid hint of sex - which had chased her thoughts all morning, playing over and over until she had just about worked out the bridge.

She cursed the afternoon customers, cursed the fact she had a day job at all. All she wanted, was to run from the minimalist industrial decor and creative facial hair choices of the customers, sprint to her home and grab her guitar to Facetime Cassidy and cry listen, I've got it, then play it back to her, watching her eyes light up as she hummed along, Lane popping their face in the screen to give her a pretend high-five on the way past.

Right now, she and Cassidy saw each other almost every damn day. They played a couple more open mic nights and even booked a starter set on a Wednesday at Howler. They picked up a casual bassist called Eliza to join them for gigs, then had a new band with a bit of buzz behind them give them an opening set at a venue with seven-hundred people, their biggest show yet. There was a momentum happening that was palpable. Every damn show, Cassidy got better, shinier, more confident, cuter. She had crowds eating out of her hand and Kinsey got more and more hyped as she watched it happen.

Every other day they were rehearsing, writing, occasionally spinning up something magic, the kind of thing that made Kinsey dream big. Cassidy kept arguing that she wanted to be a country singer, that country was where her heart was, and that might have been true, but Kinsey was starting to wonder if it was pop music she had flowing through her veins. Guitarsy, lyrical, smart pop maybe, but pop all the same. They argued it back and forth but when they played it Kinsey's way, the songs spoke for themselves. Already they had a handful of good starts, the rest of their sets padded out with covers, but at this rate they wouldn't need them for long.

Kinsey and Lane had a vibe too, which Kinsey appreciated, bonding easily over a beer after most shows. It was a solid reminder that while she and Lane clearly had the same taste in women, Cassidy was thoroughly off limits. Not that it would have mattered if she had slipped up and hit on her bandmate; she knew all that would happen would be a swift rejection and red faces all round, a discomfort she'd rather keep out of their musical and personal dynamic.

Cassidy might be prone to the occasional blush around her, but it was clear she was beyond in love with Lane. It wasn't wildly easy not to want to crush on her a little however, as she drifted dreamily into Kinsey's apartment some afternoons, clearly freshly fucked and on cloud nine. And for god's sake, couldn't the woman wear a bra at least some of the time?

Cassidy didn't seem to have normal-people concerns like rent or a day job. When Kinsey had pressed her on it one afternoon as they took a break, sipping sodas on Kinsey's back porch overlooking the tiny bare grass yard, Cassidy had blushed, looking down at her painted toes. She told Kinsey how she lived with her sister and her family, rent-free, while she focussed on her music career.

"I thought you lived with Lane," Kinsey said, confused.

"Sort of?" she said, frowning at the back fence. "Not exactly. Lane is my sister's nanny."

Kinsey blinked, trying to take that in. Cassidy had never given off the vibe of someone who grew up with money, but nannies were for sure a rich people thing.

"You seduced the help?" Kinsey faked a scandalized gasp. "That's so fucking hot. "

Cassidy rolled her eyes and tried to look offended, then immediately relented.

"Oh my god, it was," she stage-whispered. "You have no idea."

"The temptation. The sneaking around." Kinsey shook her head. "The naughtiness …"

"Mmm," Cassidy had said, her smile suddenly private, refusing her further detail, even though Kinsey practically begged.

Lane had been barely more forthcoming when Kinsey quizzed them after the gig that night, though their eyes gleamed, flickering briefly over their girlfriend where she stood over at the bar, the bartenders practically fighting each other to come and take her drinks order.

"She's hard to resist," was their only comment. "Impossible, actually."

Kinsey could imagine.

Aria had shown up that night too, this time with a date, a tall lanky Black guy with short buzzed hair and a grin that slipped out every time he looked at her. Aria introduced him as Franklin.

"You know, Franklin plays keyboard," she said, her eyebrows raised. Kinsey and Cassidy exchanged a glance. It felt awkward having a date thrust at them as a potential bandmate. Who knew whether Franklin was good at keyboard or just in bed? Besides, their dynamic was tight. Too tight? Kinsey liked being a duo, but she knew more musicians would add a layer to their sound.

"We should hang out," Cassidy said easily, and arranged an audition. Kinsey tried not to resent it. But when Franklin turned up, she changed her mind, quickly.

"You think Aria would lower herself to dating an amateur, let alone sending one to play in front of her friends?" he laughed, as he easily joined in, even his ad libs slipping seamlessly into their songs. They sounded even closer to pop with his addition, but Kinsey didn't mind. Cassidy was clearly a little more on the fence but Franklin was also a nice guy, happy to come along once a week to rehearse and see how they felt with him live.

One Saturday afternoon, Kinsey answered Cassidy's FaceTime to find it was Lane at the other end.

"Hey!" she said, surprised.

"Hey," they said. They were sitting up in bed and looked pale and sweaty. "I have some kind of gross flu," they announced.

"Gross." Kinsey wrinkled her nose. "I'm glad you're far away."

Lane laughed, then coughed and winced.

"Are you free tonight?" they asked. "I have a favor to ask." Lane told her about a queer youth center that they volunteered at. "I usually do an art class," they said. "But it's not really about that. It's just basically being queer, and cool, and kind, and letting kids talk to you. Would you be interested? You could do, like, a song-writing thing or something?"

Kinsey considered. She had a gig that night, for the last of the other side projects she'd stuck with. It would probably be her last gig with them too, now that she and Cassidy were starting to get an increasing amount of work together. But when she checked the details, the time worked out.

"Sure," she said. "I'm flattered you asked. Sorry you feel disgusting; you look kind of disgusting too, if that helps."

Lane laughed again, holding back a cough.

"Don't feel too bad for me," they said, holding the phone out wide so Kinsey could see Cassidy was lying in bed with them, her head on their lap, blonde hair tumbling over her pale shoulders in a tight white tank top. "I have a hot nurse to take care of me."

Kinsey bit back a sigh.

"Your life is the hardest," she commiserated, before hanging up the phone.

The image was still slightly ingrained on her retinas as she walked into the youth center that evening. Yes, Cassidy was gorgeous, and yeah, they had an increasingly tight bond building between them, which was music, just music, Kinsey knew that. But there was something about Cassidy in combination with Lane that actually kind of got to her. It wasn't so much that she wanted Cassidy, though in all honesty, she did, a little, but she also wanted what they had together. They made it look so tempting, having someone who you desperately wanted to get naked with, but who would also snuggle you when you were sick and sorry for yourself. Ugh.

"Hello?" she called, as she approached the small office, within the downtown big square brick building. Her shoes echoed in the corridor. The place seemed to be deserted.

"Hi," called back a voice from within. Kinsey walked in through the doorway and every single thought she had about Cassidy vanished into smoke. Leaning back in the desk chair to look up at her was the hottest sight she'd ever seen.

She was an older woman - already Kinsey's kryptonite - somewhere in her mid to late thirties, her auburn hair tumbling down her back in the kind of accidental waves that came from letting out a tight updo. Her skin was creamy and the curves under her conservative green button-up shirt and neat black pencil skirt were eye-popping. Perhaps literally so; Kinsey quickly dragged her gaze up, somewhere slightly more north of respectful. It might have been a little too late though, because the woman's warm pink mouth dropped slightly ajar and her beautiful sea-green eyes went wide.

"Um hi," Kinsey said, her throat rough. She leaned her hand on the doorframe, pushing her body into a confident stance, trying not to show how extremely discombobulated she was all of a sudden. "I'm Kinsey. Lane sent me?"

" Oh . " The woman's eyes went even wider. "I'm Rosalie."

"That's a beautiful name," she observed and the woman's brows drew together. It was possible that Kinsey had in fact drooled a little and she'd noticed.

"Thanks," Rosalie said levelly. "I'm the center director here." The words were almost, but not quite a reprimand. Respect me, they said clearly. Kinsey went pleasantly weak at the knees.

"It's good to meet you," she said, not dropping her eye contact, reaching out a hand for her to shake, without leaving the doorway. Rosalie leaned forward to lightly grasp her hand, an action Kinsey more than appreciated, though she kept her eyes up, respectfully. Rosalie's skin was smooth and warm and it was only when she tugged her hand back with a slight jerk that Kinsey realized she'd held on too long.

"Have a seat." Rosalie gestured at an office chair across the room, but Kinsey couldn't help bringing it closer, dragging it up next to Rosalie's to sit. A tiny hint of color hit the director's cheeks as Kinsey sat near her and looked at her with their eyes level. Holy god, she was even more attractive up close, her lips pillowy and her long lashes the same auburn as her hair. There were the slightest lines around her eyes that just made her sexier. Rosalie cleared her throat.

"Lane said you would lead a songwriting session?" she asked.

"Yeah." Kinsey met her gaze, trying to stop watching her mouth move as she spoke, but it was a struggle. She'd always enjoyed a good Southern accent but the honeyed vowels from those lips were doing something to her. She tried not to fidget. "They also said what I teach is kind of beside the point, it's really more about being a role model and listening to the kids."

"That's right." Rosalie nodded, her fingers fiddling with a strand of her lovely hair. "Have you done any kind of outreach before?"

"I have," Kinsey said, glad to have something to offer. "In college I used to volunteer for a program teaching inclusive sex-ed at public schools in New York."

Rosalie's eyebrows shot up, considering Kinsey more closely.

"If only that were a thing in Tennessee," she said with a small sigh.

"Right?" Kinsey sometimes couldn't believe where she'd moved to. Her eyes drifted to Rosalie's mouth again. "It's not like people don't have queer sex here."

She'd done it deliberately, but it was still gratifying to see the immediate flicker in those pretty green eyes.

"It's not sex-ed specifically that we're talking about here." Rosalie neatly pivoted, reaching out to briskly rearrange some papers on her desk. "But if it comes up somehow, we have stacks of resources to direct them to. It's really just being open and friendly and non judgemental to whoever shows up, so they know they can come back any time they need to. Do you have any questions?"

"Will you stay for my session?" Kinsey asked. Rosalie's fingers stilled on the paper she gripped. For just a second it looked like she too was looking at Kinsey's mouth.

"Of course," she said. "Lane had nice things to say about you but you're not exactly vetted or trained, so I'll stick by to supervise and help out wherever needed."

"Thank you. It's good to know you'll be there to hold my hand." She smiled guilelessly and Rosalie gave her the same faint look of reprimand, her head tilting and eyes narrowed. She clearly knew Kinsey was flirting with her but couldn't quite make up her mind as to whether to put a stop to it. She stood, so Kinsey stood too. Rosalie wasn't particularly short but she wasn't quite as tall as Kinsey either - yet another thing she liked in a woman - those lovely green eyes gazing slightly upward at her.

"I'll go down with you," Rosalie said. Kinsey raised her eyebrows, just for a second and instantly Rosalie's pale skin turned ferociously red and she turned on her heel to walk down the corridor. Kinsey bit back her grin and followed behind her. Oh god, the view was great from that angle too.

By the time they reached the big open classroom the blush had faded to a thoroughly appealing soft pink and when they stepped in to set up the room together, Rosalie seemed extremely keen to keep things neatly professional. Kinsey obliged, but there was an edge to the quiet between them, like they were both extremely aware at all times of where the other person was in the space.

"Um, hey?" a soft voice said behind them. Kinsey turned and saw a young androgynous person with big brown eyes, hovered hesitantly in the doorway. "I'm here for Lane's art class."

"Hi Jay." Rosalie smiled. "Come on in. Lane's sick tonight but they sent Kinsey for you instead."

Jay didn't move, their face falling. It looked possible they were going to turn and leave. Kinsey smiled at them too.

"Lane is disgusting right now," she told them. "They called me from bed covered in snot; it was one of the grossest things I've ever seen."

A flicker of interest cracked across Jay's face.

"You're friends with Lane?" they asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Not close enough to be snot friends though." She screwed up her nose. "I'll leave that to Cassidy."

Jay edged into the room.

"Cassidy came to one of Lane's sessions once," they said, looking over at her. "She's so hot," they added wonderingly. Kinsey met their eyes, seriously.

"Right?" she groaned, and they grinned.

Jay came all the way in and took a seat at the big center table, grabbing up a name tag on the way. Hesitating for just a second, they scrawled their name and they/them beneath it. Rosalie looked over at her and smiled. Kinsey smiled back and the center's director very quickly dropped her eyes, as if neatening up the pile of name tags was extremely pressing business.

Gradually, another ten kids trickled in, all initially disappointed to be faced with a Not Lane, but all pretty easily won over once they knew Kinsey was Lane Approved. Kinsey hadn't had a lot of time to think through a lesson structure and she'd brought nothing with her, but the center was surprisingly well set up for a small non-profit. Rosalie had produced a couple of high-quality acoustic guitars and a top of the line keyboard. She placed a small stack of notebooks in the centre of the table. Kinsey introduced herself and made up a silly song on the spot, strumming along to explain how she normally wrote songs, then once the ice was broken, she prompted the kids to talk about what they'd like to write about.

The group hesitated, peeking at their peers out of the corners of their eyes. Kinsey squirmed, begging for anyone to say something. Slowly, Jay raised their hand and just like that, the floodgates opened. Crushes and loneliness, fear and abandonment, loss and being lost. Lyrics spilled everywhere, about cute boys passing in the street and girls that wouldn't meet your eyes. Melodies of being alone in a world and being held tight on a cold day. Kinsey met Rosalie's eyes across the room, wonder and delight sparking inside her chest. Some things were universal, no matter who you were and who you liked.

The session was pretty loose, some of the more confident kids trying out rhyming verse, some even humming some tunes, trying to sound out ideas on the keyboard. Jay was actually learning guitar and shyly accompanied Kinsey as she sang some of the words that the kids had come up with together. Some of the quieter kids used the time and notebooks just to sketch out verse, guarding them zealously from other eyes and Kinsey didn't push.

Rosalie wandered around, talking to all the kids, some conversations quiet and gentle, others more of a mutual teasing session. It was clear the kids trusted her. Some looked at her with something like adoration, while others, like Jay, blushed bright red when she smiled at them. Kinsey did not blame them one bit. She too, felt slightly electrified every time those green eyes skimmed over her, which, she was gratified to notice, wasn't exactly infrequently.

"Will you come back again?" a spiky-haired girl named Chloe asked Kinsey as the session ended, her eyes bright. She'd never played any instruments before but she'd already picked out a pretty good melody on the keyboard, humming along with a sweet, tuneful voice. Kinsey grinned.

"I hope so." She looked to Rosalie, who'd smiled too.

"Hopefully we can entice her back," Rosalie said, her tone perfectly neutral.

"You won't have to try very hard," Kinsey told her honestly and watched as Rosalie bit back another smile, this one just for her.

The kids filed out, chattier as a bunch than they had been when they'd each walked in alone. Rosalie and Kinsey watched them go, the room suddenly very quiet.

"You did great," Rosalie said, as she moved around the room, pushing the chairs back into place. Kinsey tried not to stare, but there was something in the movement of her hips that kept drawing her eye. "They loved you," Rosalie continued, oblivious. "Plus songwriting is a great way to get them to open up. I don't know why we haven't done that kind of session with them before."

"Are you asking me back?" Kinsey glanced over her shoulder where she stood putting the guitars back in their cases.

"Our schedule is arranged pretty far in advance," Rosalie hedged, "but we could figure something out. If you're keen."

"I'm so keen." Kinsey said lightly. She was especially keen to see Rosalie again. In fact, she wanted to see her again right now. She tried to figure out how to play it as Rosalie switched off the light and they walked back up the corridor together. "Are you single?" She went with direct.

Rosalie stopped walking.

"Is that relevant?" she asked sharply. It made Kinsey's lip twitch as she fought off a smirk.

"It is to me," she matched Rosalie's serious tone, "since I want to ask you out."

Rosalie shook her head, her mouth quirking. There was the slightest flush staining her cheeks and Kinsey was captivated. Rosalie started walking again, her pace brisk. Kinsey matched her.

"I'm very flattered." Rosalie kept her gaze firmly ahead. "How old are you, exactly?"

"I'm twenty-six," Kinsey told her. "How old are you?"

Rosalie made a sound like a scoff.

"I'm practically forty," she said. "You're far too young. But like I said, I'm very flattered."

"How old are you?" Kinsey repeated and she huffed.

"I'm thirty-seven."

"It's amazing you're even walking," Kinsey breathed. "Have you still got your own teeth?" Rosalie spluttered out a laugh and Kinsey pushed her advantage. "Have a drink with me."

They reached the office and Rosalie seemed to be wavering. She hadn't yet said no and Kinsey really wanted to know which way she was going to fall.

"Listen," Rosalie said, "you're very beautiful, as you clearly know." Kinsey shrugged and smiled, not denying it and Rosalie rolled her eyes. "You're friends with Lane," she pointed out, "and I've known them since they were fourteen. They still seem like a kid to me, in some ways."

"So don't go on a date with Lane." Kinsey tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and watched Rosalie watch her fingers. "That would be inappropriate and frankly it's weird you're even considering it." Rosalie choked out another small laugh and Kinsey grinned, pressing further. "What are you doing right now? Like right this minute, on a Saturday night, now your work day is over?"

Rosalie hesitated.

"Not," she said, "that it's any of your business, but I'm headed home, for a quiet night. Alone. "

"That sounds boring," Kinsey pointed out. "I actually have a thing," she remembered, checking her phone. "I have to be on stage in twenty minutes, but it's like a half hour set. And it's barely ten minutes walk from here. Come and listen to some music, on a Saturday night, in Nashville. You can walk out at any time. But if you don't, we'll have a drink together and you can tell me more about your prejudice towards younger women. I'll listen, I promise."

Rosalie shook her head even as she smiled. Kinsey chanced a step closer to her and watched as she looked up.

"Rosalie," she said, her voice low. "Live a little."