(Posting a day early. Enjoy!)

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Nat took Aspen to a small locally-owned café called Spill the Tea – which was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from any Not A Moonbucks in BC. Given the name, it wasn’t surprising to see a Progress Pride sticker in the front window.

Their anxiety quietly ratcheted up a notch when they looked around and observed several queer couples flirting. Another tally in the date column, then.

Aspen stepped up to the counter to place their order and had a nervous moment as the man at the register, a short, dark and slightly scruffy man with a no-nonsense attitude and green nail polish, pinned them with a sharp look. “You’re the new witch in town, right?” The maybe-trans vibe they got from him was strengthened when his gaze flicked to the pronoun pin on the lapel of their jacket and back.

Aspen blinked, then shot Nat an apologetic look. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to interrupt what you’ve got going on,” he said, the ghost of a knowing smile on his lips. “But I’ve got something I need help with. Do you mind stopping by later when you’re free?”
“Oh. Uh. Sure.” They fumbled in their purse and pulled out a card. “Let me know when would be a good time.”

Once the two of them had their orders, Nat led them to one of the small round tables and pulled her chair… not exactly next to Aspen’s, but not across from them either, causing their heart to give a hopeful lurch in their chest.

Aspen had been so afraid that their previous encounter had been a fluke, a one-time stroke of lightning never to be reproduced. But reconnecting with Nat proved to be as easy as fitting a missing puzzle piece back into place. They had both gone through a tremendous amount of change in the past twelve years, but Nat was even easier to talk to now that they weren’t both keeping important pieces of themself secret. Aspen found that they liked this new and improved version of Nat an awful lot, and – shockingly – it seemed like she felt the same way about them.

Their anxiety might still have been able to stand against that realization, but was completely undone by Nat’s easy affection, which seeped into places long left unwatered by William’s indifference. As a result, Aspen’s fear was replaced by the expansion of something scintillating and luminous in their chest, an intoxicating impossible something that grew every time they were able to make Nat laugh, and every time she playfully laid a hand on their knee, on their arm, on their shoulder. Given how good Aspen was at self-sabotage, they should have found the strength of these feelings overwhelming. But somehow, they managed to let go, exist in the moment, and enjoy being… happy.

Finally, as closing time approached and the café started to empty out, Aspen guiltily looked at their phone, then at the barista who was pointedly cleaning a nearby table. “I guess we should get going,” they said reluctantly.

Nat grimaced at the time, sounding just as reluctant when she said, “maybe for the best. I’ve got an early morning client tomorrow.”

As they drifted back to Nat’s car, the anxiety beast clawed its way back with a vengeance, keeping Aspen from working up the nerve to take Nat’s hand. What if they had misread Nat’s interest? What if all she wanted was to be friends? Surely it couldn’t be this easy the second time around? It was only when they pulled up in front of their house that Aspen managed to wrestle their anxiety down enough to blurt out the question that had been burning in their mind the entire night.

“Was this a date?”

Nat smiled, as calmly unflappable as ever, and cocked her head. “Did you want it to be?” she asked softly.

Aspen felt their face grow suddenly, painfully warm and nodded, unwilling to trust their voice.

Nat’s smile grew, and Aspen’s breath hitched as she slowly took their hand and stroked their palm with her thumb. “Then yes, it was a date.” She leaned forward slowly, looked down at their lips, then back up into their eyes. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

This time, Aspen wasn’t able to prevent the embarrassing sound that escaped as they tilted forward to close the small distance between them.

Nat’s kiss was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how far to take it. Aspen surprised them both by tilting their head and deepening the kiss, which had the delightful effect of provoking a small gasp from Nat. The kiss was slow, with the promise of so much more. Aspen’s blood burned, and they felt as if they might crack open, unable to contain the excess of sensation.

When Nat broke the kiss a moment, a week, a year later, she looked as flushed as Aspen felt. That visible proof of her very real interest caused something to shift painfully inside them as the previously pleasant jumble of feelings became suddenly sharp and overwhelming.

“Good night,” they whispered, half-afraid that she would be upset.

They needn’t have worried. Nat’s answering smile was unworried, her expression so, so soft. “Good night, Aspen.”

Torn between the need to escape a potential meltdown and their need for certainty, Aspen paused with their hand on the door handle. “Can we do this again?”

Nat nodded. "I'd like that," she said, though Aspen's brain was too overloaded to derive any meaning from her face other than the fact that she was still smiling.

Aspen let themself out of the car and wobbled their way into the house where they staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Their feelings were at such a fever pitch that it was physically painful, feeling as if their chest was full of light while their brain was full of bees. Finally, with a shock that felt like a joint snapping back into place, they were able to name the fear-beast trying to devour them.

William was wrong. They were desirable. They were lovable.

Aspen felt a surge of relief so profound that they burst into tears.

They’d gone on a date with Nat, and it had gone well enough that she wanted to do it again. Furthermore, Nat had asked to kiss them. Aspen forced themself to remember the naked hope in her eyes as she’d leaned in, the delightful noise she’d made when they’d licked into her mouth, the look of stunned enjoyment on her face when she’d pulled away…

Ten years of his dismissive disinterest in their feelings had made it feel impossible that anyone else would ever – could ever – find them interesting, let alone desirable. A conviction that had been entirely invisible to Aspen until Nat had broken through the wall he had left around their heart.

Aspen cried in great, wracking sobs of relief, the tears healing something inside them, until they ultimately cried themself to sleep.

✯ ✯ ✯

They didn’t wake until morning and immediately regretted it once they had. The violence of their emotions the previous night had left them with what felt like an epic hangover, one of their least favorite anxiety side effects.

With a groan, Aspen picked up their phone and checked their messages and couldn’t help smiling goofily when they saw a message from Nat, though they opened their sister’s messages first.

Becks
HAVE A NICE DATE.
Well?
????!???

Aspen laughed. They struggled for a response but found themself completely unable to capture any of what had happened last night in words and finally settled for a message whose brevity they knew they would get razzed for later.

Aspen
Date.
She kissed me.

Thumbing over to the message from Nat, they saw that she had sent a selfie from the gym at the unholy hour of six that morning. In it, she was wearing another crop top – sleeveless – that highlighted her muscular arms and shoulders.

Nat
Thinking of you.
[kiss face emoji]

Aspen
Same.
…I’m getting the feeling you like crop tops.
NOT a complaint lol [heart eye emoji]

Nat
Since you’re not complaining, there’s more where that came from.

Nat attached a link to her Insta profile, which seemed to consist largely of gym selfies in equally enticing outfits.

Aspen
BRB creeping all your socials

Was that coming on too strong? However, Nat’s immediate response made it clear she was in on the joke.

Nat
[devil face][kiss mark][bicep]

As tempting as it was to stay in bed scrolling Nat’s profile, Aspen felt compelled by a nagging sense of duty, knowing they’d feel marginally less terrible if they ate something. Dennis must have thought so too, as Aspen heard the tell-tale sound of the coffee maker gurgling to life.

With a groan, Aspen levered themself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen.
KISS GIRL?

“She kissed me, yes.” Aspen chuckled as they added cream and sweetener to their favorite mug. “I might have kissed back.”

HAPPY?

The brain fog that usually accompanied an anxiety hangover made the answer to that question less obvious than it should have been. Aspen took a moment to probe their feelings and was relieved when that introspection revealed the simple and uncomplicated truth. “Yeah. I am. Really happy.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Corey had sent back the completed form as promised, which meant they were obligated to follow through on their promise to let him help with their aunt’s records, no matter how awful they felt. Grudgingly, Aspen completed their portion and submitted it. By the time Corey returned, Aspen had managed to not only get dressed and make themself somewhat presentable but also to eat an actual breakfast, well aware that Corey needed them functional at this meeting so he could start getting caught up on his volunteer project.

Still, they weren’t entirely themself when they answered the front door, which Corey seemed to pick up on right away – as his shoulders immediately ended up by his ears.

“Bad brain day,” Aspen said shortly.

Corey relaxed, then nodded, as though that was the only explanation he needed. And maybe it was.

“Next time you can take the path up past the house to the back door. For now, just leave your shoes on the mat and come in.”

Corey followed Aspen into the kitchen, where they put on a new pot of coffee. Meanwhile, Corey got out his own laptop and pulled up a surprisingly polished-looking slideshow, which he launched into once Aspen had their coffee – giving a lengthy and very cogent explanation of the four best-reviewed options for systems that were searchable and could sync across multiple devices. They were more surprised than they perhaps should have been to learn that he didn’t have any trouble speaking when infodumping to an interested audience as he spoke clearly and precisely, in stark contrast to his earlier taciturn mumbling. Aspen was extremely impressed – both the depth of his research and the polished presentation.

When he had finished, they dug out what they considered to be the worst offender among Aunt Marcy’s folders of loose papers and slid it across the kitchen table. “So. This is what my aunt left me to work with. Does that help make things clearer?”

Corey glanced at them for permission, then started flipping through the contents of the folder while Aspen sat quietly and sipped their coffee, both out of a desire to avoid pressuring him and because they weren’t up to the task themself. After only a few minutes, however, Corey surprised them again.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, going back to his second slide, which laid out the four options side by side. “A lot of these have notes about moon phases. Which. I guess it doesn’t always make sense to work on something right when someone asks for it?”

Aspen nodded. “Correct.”

“So, yeah. That eliminates two of these right off the bat, because you need something that comes with task management and calendar reminders.”

Aspen blinked in surprise. “Huh. Okay then.” They looked speculatively at the box full of records, which for the first time didn’t make them feel like they needed to lie down. “So. Next steps… I need to decide between these two and set up an account. I’ll also need a document scanner, I guess.” They drummed their fingers on the table. “Today’s Tuesday so... want to come back Thursday afternoon? I should be able to get something sorted by then.”
“Sure.”

“Do you have anything you need me to sign for today for your hours?”

Corey nodded and handed over a form which looked to be in much better shape than the last paper he’d had them sign. Amused, Aspen filled in the date. “That was about forty minutes plus… how long did you spend putting this together?”

Corey blinked at them as though he hadn’t expected to be asked. “I mean, I didn’t. It wasn’t… You didn’t see me do it.”

Aspen snorted. “You obviously worked hard on it and should get credit for that time, which was…?”

“Three hours.”

Aspen wrote ‘4’ in the hours column and signed without further comment. Corey looked stunned to have gotten their approval without having to justify his work, which provoked a pang of sympathy for the obvious lack of understanding or support he was getting from his teachers for his (also very obvious) neurodivergence - the poor kid was clearly used to arguing with his teachers about his special interests. “See you Thursday,” they said, voice and expression carefully light as they handed the form back.

Corey nodded, packed up his things, and slunk out the front door.

Aspen was surprised when the knock at the door thirty seconds later turned out to be… Corey, holding what first appeared to be a small bundle of wet, bedraggled black fur. It was only when the bundle squirmed and turned large golden eyes toward them that they realized he was holding a scrawny black kitten that couldn’t have been more than four months old. “Your cat got out,” he said. “I found him crying by the door.”

Aspen looked down at the cat, then back at Corey, stunned. “I don’t have a cat.”

✯ ✯ ✯

“You’re not getting volunteer credit for this,” Aspen cracked as they threw a towel in the dryer.

Corey stunned them by actually laughing. “That’s okay,” he said, beaming at the skinny kitten trying to burrow into his sleeve.

Aspen grabbed a second towel and began trying to dry the kitten, which was soaked to the skin – a task which ended up requiring both of them as the squirmy kitten was not at all interested in having its fur rubbed in all different directions.

By the time they were done, the towel in the dryer was warm. The kitten stopped trying to escape as soon as it was transferred to the new towel, and in short order they had a bundle of warm, contentedly peeping golden eyes.

Aspen laughed and conceded defeat. “Okay. I guess I have a cat now. Corey, can you find me a vet that’s open? I’ll see about finding us a ride.”

“Sure.”

While Corey got to searching, Aspen took a selfie of themself holding the towel-wrapped kitten and sent it to Nat.

Aspen
Uh. Car emergency? Found this stray kitten, no sign of mama. You free to take us to the vet?

Nat
OMG BRT

Nat arrived just as Aspen got off the phone with a vet’s office that had promised to squeeze them in before the end of the day. Any fears that Aspen may have had about imposing dissolved the moment Nat squealed in delight over Corey giving the kitten cream out of a teaspoon.

“Hashtag blessed,” she whispered when the kitten licked her outstretched finger. “Best end to a workday ever.”

Aspen grinned. “Nat, this is my new volunteer, Corey. He found the kitten on my porch. Corey this is. Uh.” Aspen paused, wondering how they should introduce Nat. (They were definitely more than friends, but ‘girlfriend’ felt awfully presumptuous.) “Nat,” they finished awkwardly. “She’s going to help me get this little guy to the vet, and I’m sure your mum will want you home before we’re done.”

Corey nodded reluctantly and gave the kitten one last skritch between his ears before departing.
The next hour was a blur of activity. Thankfully, there was nothing seriously wrong with the kitten, that they had named Lucifer, aside from being underweight. Once Lucifer had been checked over and gotten his shots and a chip, Nat took them to a nearby pet store where Aspen stocked up on the necessary supplies, including a soft-sided carrier that Lucifer didn’t care for in the least.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Aspen said when they arrived back home. “And, like, sorry for being so awkward introducing you to Corey. I didn’t want to seem like I was ashamed to be dating you, but also does one and a half dates count as dating? And. I…”

“Hey,” Nat smiled and put a hand on Aspen’s knee. “It’s okay. We’re okay. But if it helps your anxiety, the fact that we have previously dated and have also agreed to do it again does mean that the present tense of that verb applies if you want it to.”

“Thank you,” Aspen said softly, daring to lay their hand over top of Nat’s. Whatever they might have said next, however, was interrupted by a series of furious peeps from Lucifer. “Sorry. I’d invite you in but. I. It’s.”

Nat gave their knee a squeeze. “It’s okay,” she repeated.

“I just. I want to,” Aspen said, their words coming out in a jumble. “But it’s also been a bad brain day and I’m. Just. Really tired.” At Nat’s concerned look, they shook their head. “Nothing about you, or our date. Just. Brain not braining well.”

“Then thank you for taking care of Aspen, who I like an awful lot.”

They stared at Nat for a long moment in mute shock, then floundered for an explanation when Nat’s expression grew concerned. “No one—I’ve never been thanked for asserting a boundary before, like, romantically.”

Nat’s expression sharpened into one of fierce protectiveness, and Aspen had the sudden uncomfortable sensation of being in the same situation they had been in earlier with Corey, only this time the roles were reversed and Nat wasn’t trying to hide how dismayed she felt. “Then it must have taken a lot of courage for you to say something,” she finally said.

Nat seemed to understand that they weren’t up to expressing any of the feelings that accompanied that revelation and didn’t press for further conversation as she helped Aspen carry the new supplies to the side porch, then left with a final admonishment to Lucifer to behave himself.

After setting out food and water in the kitchen, they then set up the litter box in the laundry room and made sure Lucifer knew where it was. These two basic tasks accomplished, they felt an overwhelming urge to lie down and, since the old couch was out of commission, headed for the bedroom, where they promptly fell asleep.

At some point during the night, they woke up briefly to Lucifer settling himself between their knees as they slept on their stomach. The kitten’s purring promptly put Aspen back to sleep.