Queen of Love

Genevieve drummed her fingers against the bartop. “Do you like women, Ms. Aya?”

“Please. Just Aya in English.” She said it too quickly, as if she were covering up the thundering of her beating heart. “I… I’m in a girl bar, Ms. Gen… Jenna…”

Was she struggling to say Genevieve’s name? Considering she’s nailed it every other time, I must really be tripping her up. “Just Genevieve in English, please.”

“Gene… beeb. Shimatta.”

Laughter caught the bartender’s attention. Luckily for Genevieve, another couple entered the bar and distracted the woman who reminded her a lot of the last person to steal her heart. I have such a soft spot for alternative-looking bartenders. Somewhere, her dear Nyla was spending her evening with another woman. Another older woman.

No wonder she was practically throwing herself at Aya.

“Yes, we are in a girl bar. Neither of us has a significant other. It’s a slow night with not much else to do. So…” Genevieve closed her notebook and slipped both it and her pen into the tote bag she tucked beneath the bar. She wanted to be ready to leave, regardless of Aya’s answer. “I’ll be honest, I prefer it if the other woman is the forward one, but we have a professional relationship you don’t want to compromise. I should ask the awkward question of whether you want to come back to my hotel room, Ms. Aya. That way, if you reject me, there’s no harm no foul, lah.”

She snapped her lips shut but kept her poise. She could not, however, contain the blush swelling in her cheeks as she thanked the dark bar for saving some of her humility.

“Lah?”

You’re killing me, Aya. “It’s Singlish. I didn’t mean to say it. I sound so silly when speaking to non-Singaporeans, sometimes.” Great. There went her composure. Now that the dam was broken, Genevieve hid her face between her hands and steadied her breaths. She was used to rejection, but usually, she sounded much better setting herself up for it!

Aya slipped off her stool, straightening out her jacket and nodding to the bartender. Great. See her later, I guess. Any moment now, Aya would politely decline Genevieve’s invitation and head out for the evening. To Meguro, wherever that is.

“If my memory serves correctly,” Aya said, delectably close to Genevieve’s ear, “you’re staying in Shibuya. We can take the subway or a taxi. Either way, it’s not far at all.”

Genevieve plucked her bag off the footrest beneath the bar. Aya extended her hand to help Genevieve off her stool and onto her feet. For the best. Their first touch of the evening should be so harmless. That way, when Genevieve completely lost herself later, she would no longer be a stranger to the woman whose hand felt like a reassuring cloud on a hot summer’s day.