Delilah Green Doesn’t Care

STELLA’S WAS PACKED tonight. Of course, as the only gig in town, it usually was. Also as usual, the smell of sawdust and beer and cheap perfume permeated the air, the patrons loud and laughing as they relaxed at the end of a workday.

Delilah Green walked through the door in her jeans, boots, tank top, and bomber jacket, just as she had on so many other occasions. But something was different tonight. Tonight, Delilah, for the first time in her life, didn’t walk in alone.

Claire Sutherland’s shoulder pressed against hers, their fingers tangled together as they looked for the rest of their party.

“Over here, bitches!” Iris called from a table in the center of the room, her red hair in two Princess Leia buns and a vodka soda already in her hand. Astrid was there too, offering a much more staid wave, but a wave nonetheless.

In the three weeks that had passed since Delilah had come back to Bright Falls, she’d moved into an apartment over her father’s former architectural firm. Josh’s old apartment, incidentally. It was surprisingly clean and exactly what Delilah needed. Ruby had been helping her decorate it, slowly, because despite her sales from the Whitney and several new commissions her agent had arranged for her, she still needed to budget carefully. Iris even came over one evening, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a paint roller in the other, and helped her coat the walls in a steely blue. The night ended with the both of them drunk off their asses and laughing hysterically over nothing and everything in the middle of Delilah’s living room floor. The next morning, a hangover the likes of which Delilah had never experienced assaulted her head and stomach, but she couldn’t seem to keep a smile off her face. Everything felt so new, every day—living in Bright Falls, Claire, Iris who felt like an actual friend. She’d even gone out to lunch with Astrid. Twice. Isabel was another story. Delilah wasn’t sure she was ready to climb that mountain, but she kept telling herself she had time. Right now, she was discovering Bright Falls all over again, living inside this cozy town the way she’d always wanted to, the way her father had always wanted her to.

Now, Claire pulled Delilah toward the table, kissing her once on the mouth before they both settled into the chairs.

“Do you two have to be so damn cute all the time?” Iris said, rolling her eyes.

“Cute?” Delilah said. “You mean like this?” She reached over and hooked her finger into the collar of Claire’s polka-dotted button-up and pulled her closer for another kiss. Closed mouth, no tongue, nice and soft and the cutest fucking thing this town had ever seen, if Delilah had to guess.

“Exactly like that,” Iris said, then made a gagging face.

Claire blushed and grinned, and Delilah winked at her. It would never get old, making that woman’s cheeks pink up like that.

Astrid just smiled and poured Claire a glass of wine from the bottle of Riesling already at the table. Delilah ordered a bourbon neat, and soon all four women had a glass in their hands.

“What should we toast to?” Iris said. “Oh, I know, I know—to Astrid getting her ass good and laid.”

Astrid spluttered on her wine. “What?”

“It’s been almost six weeks since you kicked shit boot prime to the curb,” Iris said. “It’s time.”

“It’s time for you to pull your nose out of other people’s sex lives,” Astrid said.

“I’ll second that,” Claire said.

Iris’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? My nose is what got you two sickening lovebirds together.” She motioned between Claire and Delilah.

“Wait, what?” Delilah said.

Claire groaned. “Iris.”

Iris just cackled.

“What’s going on?” Astrid asked.

“Oh my god, I forgot we never told you this story,” Iris said, slapping the table.

“Hello, in the dark over here too,” Delilah said.

Claire dropped her face into her hands while Iris launched into a story about trying to get Claire laid nearly two months ago in this very bar, challenging her to get someone’s number, which resulted in her unknowingly hitting on Delilah Green.

“Is that how all of this started?” Astrid said, eyes wide.

“Well, my ass does look fabulous in a good pair of jeans,” Delilah said.

“Oh my god,” Claire said, and Delilah laughed.

Astrid shook her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t know who she was.”

“It was dark!” Claire said, and the other three women gave her a look. “Darkish. And okay, fine, but come on, look at her.” She motioned to Delilah, a smile on her still-blushing face.

“Aw, sweetheart, you thought I was hot?” Delilah said in a teasing lilt, taking Claire’s hand and kissing her palm.

Claire pursed her lips. “I guess I did.”

“And just look at them now!” Iris said. “So, my meddling worked, thank you very much, and now it’s your turn, my darling Astrid.” Then she stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Bright Falls! Who wants a chance with this fine-looking lady next to me!” Here she motioned to Astrid. “She’s in desperate need of a good fu—”

“Oh my god, Iris, shut up,” Astrid said, pulling her friend down. Claire was too busy cracking up to defend Astrid, and Delilah just enjoyed watching all of this unfold, the dynamic of friends, old and new, the give-and-take. It was wondrous. A miracle, if she was being honest and a bit dramatic. But dramatic felt right. It felt perfect for a night like this.

“I’m not looking to date, okay?” Astrid said.

“Who said anything about dating?” Iris said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Well, I’m done with that too,” Astrid said. “No more men, ever.”

“Women, then?” Iris asked, and Delilah couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful tone to her voice. An all-queer coven was probably Iris’s dream come true, but Astrid just blinked at her.

“Okay, okay,” Claire said after she’d finished laughing. She sat up straight in her chair and held up her glass of wine, her other hand resting on Delilah’s thigh beneath the table. “A toast for real.”

“About something other than my love life, please,” Astrid said.

Iris stuck out her tongue.

Delilah lifted her bourbon and took a deep breath. “To us,” she said. “All of us.”

The other women looked at one another, small smiles on their faces.

“Perfect,” Claire said.

“Hear! Hear!” Iris said.

Astrid nodded and lifted her glass, a tiny smile on her face as she looked at Delilah. “To us.”

“To us,” Iris said.

“To us,” Claire said.

They all clinked glasses, the music and laughter and life bustling all around them. A full, happy feeling filled Delilah’s chest as she looked at her friends, her partner, her home. She lifted her glass once more into the air, tipping it to each of them in turn.

“To us.”