[Last time on ADKOU: Sutton visited Ada's apartment, went on a run with her, and learned more about her life; at work, the team celebrated On-Delay's birthday and Marta announced that Cyntera officially acquired the company in Florida; Sutton came home late on a Thursday night to be greeted with the news that her parents are getting a divorce after almost 30 years of marriage.]
Her first instinct was to call Ada. It was the only thought in her head that made sense. Everything else was a jumble, a mad carousel of questions and bitter knowledge and images of her parents’ faces and echoes of their voices.
She paced around her bedroom, her face and neck flushed with uncomfortable heat, her throat tight. Wilson Phillips lay on the bed, watching her with bored, unimpressed eyes. Sutton dropped to her knees in front of the cat and smoothed her palm over its ears. “You don’t understand, do you?” she asked, but when she heard the question spoken aloud, she couldn’t understand anything either.
Sutton turned away from Wilson Phillips and rested her back against the runner of her bed. Ada’s presence pulsed all around her, even stronger than these ugly, raw emotions that were growling inside of her. She caught fragments of Ada's eyes, her voice, her elbows.
There was a rational part of Sutton that knew she should call someone else - someone who had been a constant in her life for the past few years. A month ago her first instinct would have been to call Amber, and if not her, then probably Taryn, her best friend from law school. But here she was, sitting on the floor of her childhood bedroom, learning that her greeting card Mommy-and-Daddy family was dissolving, and the only person she wanted to talk to was the best friend she’d had growing up.
Ade?
Ada texted back within a minute. Sutton?
Sutton deliberated, her chest building with heaviness. She didn’t want to be needy. She hated being needy. But her parents’ faces fizzed behind her eyes and she was overwhelmed by her raw need to be near Ada.
Parents are getting divorced. They just told me.
She stared at the words after she sent them. They looked fake, like they hadn't come from her phone.
The ellipsis bubble appeared on her screen, indicating that Ada was typing. Sutton breathed through her stomach while she waited for Ada's response.
Do you want to come over? Ada wrote. Are you okay to drive? Do you want me to pick you up?
I can drive, Sutton wrote back. Are you sure? You’re not busy?
Ada’s reply came quickly again.
No. Please come.
Sutton remembered how Amber and her college friends had reacted when her granny had died back in the spring of her sophomore year. They had burst into her dorm room and swooped around her, rubbing her arms and cooing like she was a stray puppy, their too-loud voices demanding, "What happened? What happened?" over and over again, and when Sutton hadn't been able to answer them, when she had sat there as if made from stone, they had switched to a never-ending refrain of "Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?"
She expected that now with Ada. She expected she would have to rehash everything from the last hour: the burnt smell of the eggplant parmesan, her dad petting at his bald spot like a nervous child, the sound of her mom's clinical, detached voice. She tried to string it all together as she drove mindlessly into the city, as she parked with automatic, programmed movements, as she dazedly took the elevator up to Ada's apartment.
But when Sutton knocked numbly on Ada's door, Ada simply opened it and stood aside to let Sutton in, her eyes anxious, her mouth turned down in worry. She said nothing; she asked nothing. When she had closed the door behind them, she faced Sutton and searched her with her big, deep eyes, and Sutton let her, remembering how Ada had always intuited her emotional state, how she could tell what kind of day Sutton was having based on whether she was biting her nails and how her laugh sounded. Sutton stood there and succumbed as if she was naked, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
And then Ada reached forward, gathered Sutton into her arms, and held her tight. Sutton burrowed her face into Ada's shoulder and breathed.
Ada made herbal tea while Sutton sat on the couch, wrapped in a burgundy fleece blanket even though it was 80 degrees outside. "I'll add milk, okay?" Ada said, looking over from the stove. Her eyes were fragile, worried. Not like she pitied Sutton - Sutton had seen Ada pity people before - but like she was hurting too.
Ada brought a steaming mug of tea to her, passing it carefully into her hands. It was a mint green mug with a pattern of dancing wolves, and Sutton fell away for a moment, imagining Ada buying it at a farmer's market on a sunny April day.
They sat on opposite sides of the couch, both of them turned so they were facing each other, their feet nearly touching. Ada rested her elbow on the seatback cushion and leaned her head into her hand, her eyes on Sutton. Sutton mirrored her, resting her head on the opposite hand, clutching the tea mug in her free hand. They sat without speaking, but not uncomfortably, not with any pressure to break the silence. Just the two of them looking at each other, Ada giving Sutton the time she needed.
"I know I should talk about it," Sutton said.
Ada gave no indication of whether she agreed with this statement or not. She blinked steadily, her eyes still on Sutton.
Sutton took a long breath and exhaled. Her throat was blocking up. She set the tea mug on the coffee table, kept her eyes away from Ada, and asked, "Can I--?"
Ada didn't know what she was asking. Sutton sat hunched forward, her body still curled from setting the mug on the table. She knew what she needed, but she didn't know how to ask for it. She hovered in limbo, her throat burning, while Ada watched her.
Her eyes began to sting. She let them fill with water, still unable to ask for what she needed.
"Sutton," Ada said, leaning forward, laying gentle fingers on her wrist.
"Can I--?" Sutton tried again, shifting her body a hair's breadth.
Ada figured it out. Her eyes deepened with tenderness and she reached for Sutton's back, pulled Sutton into her body, and cradled her like she had used to do in high school. They stretched out until they were lying down on the couch, Ada flat on her back and Sutton curled up around her, her head on Ada's chest.
The tears in Sutton's eyes began to leak out and crawl down her face, slowly and methodically. She felt them dampen Ada's tank top.
Ada must have felt them too, for she began to stroke Sutton's hair and comfort her in a low, half-whispered voice. "It's okay if you need to cry," she said.
Sutton's throat made it hard to breathe. "I can't. I want to--but it's like it's stuck."
Ada continued to stroke Sutton's hair, her heartbeat steady beneath Sutton's ear. "Long-term pain," she murmured.
"What?" Sutton said thickly.
"I mean...you've worried about your parents since we were young. You've carried that tension around for years. So it's probably hard for you to have an emotional release right now because you've gotten so used to beating the pain down."
Sutton inhaled, feeling the air move through her lungs. "Fucking sucks."
Ada held her closer, turning her face into Sutton's hair. "I'm sorry," she said, her lips brushing against Sutton's hairline.
They lay there for a half-hour, neither one of them talking, just being. Sutton felt calmer the longer Ada held her, like she was drawing some secret elixir from Ada's skin. Ada kept playing with Sutton's hair, combing her fingers through it and twirling the ends and touching the fine strands like a baker pressing flour between her fingers.
"Thank you," Sutton said finally, breaking the quiet.
"You want to watch a movie? Aladdin?"
For the first time in hours, Sutton smiled. "How did you remember that?"
Ada shrugged and Sutton's head rose with her shoulder. "Just one of those things."
They sat up and found Aladdin on Netflix, and within the first few notes of "Arabian Nights," Sutton slipped into a zone of contentment. Her body was tired and her mind was shot, but that made it easier for her to pull out of her thoughts and simply feel this real moment. She looked over at Ada and for the first time since they had reconnected, she was not afraid or embarrassed for Ada to notice her looking.
They were watching the scene where Aladdin almost drowns when the front door clicked open. Ada sat up so fast that Sutton cricked her neck.
An unapproachable-looking girl hovered in the doorway, holding a Target bag and a giant leather purse on her arm. Sutton's first thought was that the girl looked gray. She wore neutral colors and had pale skin and wispy, faded blonde hair. Her eyes took in Sutton and Ada's positions on the couch in a nosy roommate kind of way.
"Hey," Ada greeted her.
The girl's eyes took them in again. "Hey."
"Sutton, this is Linda," Ada said. "Linda, Sutton."
"Nice to meet you," Linda said. She strode to the refrigerator, grabbed a can of LaCroix water, and exited the room with her bags still on her arms, and that was all Sutton saw of her the rest of the night.
"She seems nice," Sutton said robotically.
"Mhm."
Ada was still sitting erectly, a foot away from where she had been lying with Sutton. She seemed flushed.
"What's the matter?" Sutton asked.
"What? Nothing."
They went back to watching the movie. Ada stayed in a sitting position, so Sutton sat upright next to her. She didn’t press the matter, but after a few minutes, when Ada seemed relaxed again, Sutton spread the fleece blanket across both their laps and purposely let her knee brush against Ada’s.
It was after 11 when the movie ended. Ada muted the credits and turned to Sutton in the dim light.
"Do you want to stay here?"
Sutton paused. "You don't mind?"
"No. I'd feel better about it, actually. I'd worry about you driving home right now."
Sutton smiled. "What time do you usually go to bed?"
"Around now. Are you sleepy?"
"Yeah."
"Come on," Ada said, pulling her up from the couch. "We'll re-create one of our eighth grade sleepovers. We're already halfway there after Aladdin."
Ada lent Sutton an Atlanta Braves t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. She found a simple, plastic-covered toothbrush under her sink (“I steal them from hotel concierges," she explained) and offered Sutton her make-up remover and face wash. They got ready for bed together, Sutton entranced by Ada's nighttime routine just like she had been on the company retreat.
"Are you sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch?" Sutton asked while Ada pulled the bed sheets back.
"What? No, don't be ridiculous. We'll be fine. Eighth-grade sleepover, remember?"
"Not twelfth-grade?" Sutton joked.
Ada smirked and tossed a pillow at her.
They folded into the bed and lay facing each other, their bodies only inches apart. Sutton’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in Ada’s profile – the curve of her shoulder, the bump of her hip, the way she lay with one hand burrowed under her pillow. It was familiar and new.
"Did you tell your parents where you are?" Ada whispered.
"No. They'll be fine."
"Yeah. Are you feeling any better?"
"Right now, yeah. I’ll probably be churned up again tomorrow when I go home, but for now I’m fine.”
Ada shifted her head on her pillow. "I'm glad you called me."
"Me too. I missed being able to call you.”
Ada took a beat to reply. "You don't have to miss it anymore."
Sutton absorbed this promise, swallowed it into her stomach and let it warm everything inside her. She pushed her hand forward and danced her fingertips over Ada’s bare arm, and Ada let her.
“Hey,” Sutton said, “why were you so weird in front of Linda earlier?"
Ada’s eyes moved toward her in the darkness, her umber irises lit by the city outside. She looked resigned, like Sutton would always be able to see right through her.
"She doesn't know me that well," Ada hedged. "I don't normally have people over."
Sutton thought about this. "Have you had a guy over before?"
Ada's mouth twitched with thinking. "Maybe once."
“But not a girl.”
“Well, no.”
"Are you embarrassed?"
Ada breathed in. "I don’t think that’s it.”
"You worry about how it will make her perceive you?" Sutton suggested. "Because you don't want her to put a box around you?"
Ada's shifted her head away and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I don't want to obsess over it," she said quietly, “but I’m just—I don’t know—I guess I’m hyperaware of these categories. Of how people get an idea of you and then they treat you like the idea rather than a person. If they’re going to do that, I want to be in control of the idea they get. That’s why, like, at work, part of me wants to be perceived as a bitch. Then they know I'm serious about shit. I'd rather them have this idea of me being cold or unapproachable rather than a woman, or a minority, or someone who sucked at school--"
"They don't know how you did in school."
Ada shrugged. "Like I said, I get obsessive."
Sutton digested her words. She skated her nails over Ada’s wrist. “Are you maybe hyper-hypersensitive about sexuality categories? Like, the idea people will get if they see you with me?”
Ada exhaled in a way that meant Sutton understood her. “Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t want to be an idea, Sutton.”
Sutton watched her for a moment. She studied her deep eyes and the springy curls on her hairline and the angles of her elbows and the scar on her chin from when she’d had a rollerblading accident in elementary school. She thought about all the atoms inside Ada and how they made her this living, breathing person with a stubborn beating heart. She thought about how Ada had taken her driving for the first time two months before they turned 15, and how Ada had cried angry tears when she didn’t qualify for the state track meet their senior year, and how hard Ada worked at her job now, and the way a room felt when she walked into it, and the fire in her eyes when she looked at Sutton sometimes.
"You are way too real to be an idea to me," Sutton told her.
Ada’s breath hitched, and her eyes went to Sutton’s mouth, and she shifted toward her and kissed her.
It was one distinct kiss, hardly longer than a second - Sutton barely even had time to press her lips back against Ada’s. But it was the kind of kiss that lingered afterward, like they were waiting to see how it would change anything, if at all.
They watched each other’s eyes as the kiss settled around them. Sutton’s lips were buzzing and her heart was pounding hard.
“Are you okay?” Ada asked.
“Yeah,” Sutton breathed.
They stayed like that for another ten seconds, just looking at each other, and then they inched forward and kissed again.
It was longer this time, and Sutton was surprised to find that she didn’t feel manic or wild or urgent about it, like she’d thought she might; instead she felt calm and steady and patient, like she could draw the kiss out as long as she wanted to. They kept kissing, and Sutton’s body hummed with life the way it always did when she kissed someone, but tonight there was a symbiosis between her body and heart that hadn't been present in years. She didn’t have that frenzied impulse she'd had with other girls--the impulse that made her chase skin and heat and touch for those few fleeting moments when everything was carnal and pulsing. Here, with Ada--Sutton wanted to kiss her even more than she wanted to make her come. She could have spent hours kissing her mouth, relearning her lips, smelling her perfume in those mysterious moments when it was swept up from her neck. Her heart was swelling and her lungs were swelling and the room was swelling with sweetness, and she and Ada were kissing each other in a way that was gentle and grateful and old and new.
“Okay,” Ada said, smiling as she broke their kiss.
"What?"
Ada shook her head. "We said we were going to go slowly. And you've had an emotional night."
Sutton smiled. "I'm fine. But you're right, we should go slowly." She touched Ada's jaw and kissed her one more time, and then she rolled back onto her own pillow.
Ada sighed as she stretched out on her back. Sutton grabbed for her hand and held it beneath the sheets.
"Sutton?"
"Yeah?"
Ada was quiet for a beat. Then: "Nothing, I just wanted to say your name."
Sutton felt her smile stretch up to her closed eyes. "Goodnight, Ada," she said.
Ada's phone alarm woke them in the morning. They smiled sleepily at each other in the golden light shimmering through the curtains, and Ada squeezed Sutton's hand before scooting out of bed.
It felt weird, getting ready for work together. It reminded Sutton of when her parents had gone out of town when she was in eighth grade and she had stayed over at Ada's on a school night. They had thought it was so radical, so fun, to wake up and get ready for school together the next morning.
Ada lent her a flowy shirt that was big enough to accommodate her larger bust size. She tucked it into the slacks she had worn yesterday, assessed her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and walked out into the kitchen.
"I feel like I'm pulling a Walk of Shame," she said.
Ada laughed. "Even though we didn't do anything?"
"I just have that vibe, you know?"
Ada rolled her eyes playfully. She stood at the counter with a half-eaten pear in her hand and two mugs in front of her. "Two sugars, right?" she said, passing one of the mugs to Sutton.
Sutton glanced down: it was fresh coffee, colored with cream. She let out a laugh of disbelief. "You remembered how I take it?"
"I told you I would."
Sutton's stomach sprung. She set the mug down, stepped near to Ada, and kissed her delicately.
Ada stayed in place when Sutton pulled back. She had never been one to blush, but now she ducked her head and hid her eyes while her mouth shaped into a smile.
"That was my way of saying thank you," Sutton explained. "For more than just the coffee."
Ada met her eyes for a shining second before she looked away, bashful again. Sutton grinned and leaned next to her at the counter. "Aren't you going to offer me a pear, too? Kind of a rude hostess, huh?"
Ada rolled her eyes and slid the fruit basket toward her. "Drink your coffee," she said. "It's a million times better than the shit at work."
They left the apartment and walked side-by-side down the hallway. Sutton smirked, realizing they would have to drive separate cars to work and act like they hadn't woken up together. She would have to feign saying "Good morning" to Ada when she walked past her desk. It was sneaky and silly and sexy.
They rode the elevator down to the parking lot, and just after they separated to their cars, Ada called, "Sutton?"
"Yeah?"
Ada stepped back toward her. She searched Sutton's eyes and she kissed her.
"That was myway of saying thank you, for everything," she said, a secret smile on her face, and Sutton stood there while a secret smile bloomed on her face in return.
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[Author's Note: Thanks for your patience with this update! I recently celebrated the one-year anniversary of publishing my first novel, Her Name in the Sky, so I may be hosting a live web chat in the next several days in which I'll talk about HNITS, ADKOU, and other writing - check my Tumblr (littleoases) for more info!]