Chapter Text
The plan was to meet Eloise at Mayfair’s, grab iced coffees to go, and then drive together to Aubrey Hall. That was the plan—and Francesca knows that was the plan because she had made the plan.
And, furthermore, Eloise had agreed to the plan.
So, when Francesca’s phone vibrates in her hand and the banner reads—running late. don’t be mad. bringing a surprise—her annoyance with Eloise spikes, “of course.”
It’s another ten minutes of waiting at one of the tables outside—Francesca unable to make herself go inside to order alone, and deviate from the plan of having coffees for the ride—before Eloise rushes over to her with a breathless apology.
“So sorry, Fran!” Eloise drops into the chair across from Francesca, “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“I’ve been waiting since the time we agreed to meet here, El.” Francesca explains coolly as if Eloise is ridiculous for making the statement, “obviously.”
Eloise holds her hands palm up in surrender, “sorry, my bad…but it’s with good reason!”
“Yes, the surprise.” Francesca deadpans as she holds up her phone, referring to the text, “what exactly is so important to put us this far off schedule?”
“Not what.” Eloise sing-songs as she stares over Francesca’s shoulder, “who.”
“Eloise, no.” Francesca whispers harshly under her breath, not daring to look over her shoulder, “you have not invited someone without telling me!”
“You’ll love her Fran!” Eloise gushes with a smile, “honestly, she’s fab.”
Francesca closes her eyes briefly, head dipping down, and tries not to groan in frustration, “you’re a menace.”
“I’m spontaneous.” Eloise replies, “and Michaela is chaos.”
“Perfect.” It’s sarcasm and Francesca knows that Eloise knows it, “where is she?”
“She—” Michaela lowers herself into the seat beside Francesca, “is right here.”
Oh, fuck.
Michaela is the prettiest woman Francesca has ever seen—not that Francesca keeps track; she doesn’t.
The way Michaela carries herself exudes a comfortableness that Francesca’s always been a little jealous of—a little in awe of. There’s no denying that Michaela easily captures the attention of whatever room—or outdoor cafe table—she decides to hang out at.
Francesca is still looking; observing—in greedy detail.
The faded denim of Michaela’s cut off shorts sit high across the muscles of her thighs, a burnt orange, low cut, cropped tank top pulls tightly across her chest, the loose white button down is long, rolled up to her elbows, and left completely open.
Michaela’s full lips are coated in a clear gloss and her dark skin is shimmering under the summer sun—a glittery sheen from whatever lotion she had applied before leaving her house still visible—it’s captivating in a way Francesca is not ready to analyze quite yet.
A few intentionally placed smooth coils of hair curl perfectly on either side of Michaela’s face, framing it beautifully, while the rest of them are swept up into a perfectly executed tousled bun at the crown of Michaela’s head.
And, for the first time in her life, an immediate, undeniable attraction consumes Francesca—it’s unbearably hot, flushing across her cheeks, licking down along her chest, and settling low between her hips—it makes her fingertips ache to reach out and touch, which startles her so much that she curls them into the tabletop.
Michaela watches Francesca’s internal struggle with curious eyes before thrusting her hand outwards, “Michaela Stirling, pleasure to finally meet you, Francesca.”
Francesca freezes—it’s painfully embarrassing the way her body just utterly ceases to function as a normal human being—Michaela’s hand is right there and all Francesca’s mind will allow her to do is stare at it until Michaela slowly drops it down onto her thigh.
Eloise nudges Francesca under the table, “you’re being weird Fran—like, weirder than normal.”
“Sorry, I’m, uhm, I’m sorry.” Francesca straightens up, her arm and hand shooting forward in an attempt to overcorrect, “I’m, well, I’m Francesca, Bridgerton—you already know that though.” But Michaela has already lowered her hand; obviously, because Francesca had seen her do it, and shit, Francesca really miscalculates the distance between them because the tips of her fingers end up brushing against the skin of Michaela’s chest, “oh, god.”
Michaela’s eyes flicker down to the contact and then travel back up to Francesca’s face full of amusement, “you could at least buy a girl a coffee first.”
“Jesus, Fran! I know she’s fit, but damn!” Eloise says through a smirk, “I honestly thought it was Gregory I was going to have to worry about around Michaela…apparently not.”
Francesca snatches her hand back and she just knows her cheeks are beyond flushed, “that’s the first time, uhm, I mean I’ve never, ever done that before—”
“Grazed a woman’s breast in lieu of a handshake?” Eloise teases, “you’ve never done that before Fran?”
Michaela laughs—it’s feminine and warm—and it makes Francesca forget her embarrassment for a split second; but not a moment longer.
“I’ve never.” Francesca shakes her head adamantly, her wide, hazel eyes on Michaela, “that was the first time—and last. I’m so sorry.”
“Breathe Francesca.” Michaela’s smile is genuine, “it’s all good, it was an accident, so, no need to apologize.”
“It was.” Francesca confirms, nodding, “an accident, that is.”
“Was it good though Fran?” Eloise questions curiously, leaning forward, her elbows landing on the table, as she glances at Michaela, “and I mean this as a compliment Mich—you are very grope-able.”
“Eloise!” Francesca squeaks out, it misses the admonishing tone she was aiming for by miles, “I did not grope her!”
Michaela laughs, completely entertained.
“I mean it kinda looked like it was heading in that, you know—” Eloise nods towards Michaela’s breasts and is delighted to see her uptight sister’s gaze fall there once again, “in that direction.”
Francesca’s eyes snap back up to meet Michaela’s as soon as she realizes what she’s done, “I’ve only been with men, and barely even that…and I definitely don’t grope women.”
Michaela smacks Eloise’s shoulder, “leave her alone before you give her an aneurysm.”
“What?” Eloise feigns innocence, “I’m trying to help…maybe a woman is exactly what she needs!”
Francesca swallows thickly, “need a woman for what?”
Michaela tilts her head to the side and her smile alone is enough to do damage, “amazing sex.”
“What?” Francesca’s not sure she heard Michaela correctly over the pounding of her own pulse in her ears, “that’s, well, how do you even know it would be amazing?”
Eloise pushes away from the table and stands, “I am going to go grab our drinks—Michaela, iced dirty chai, Fran, iced black coffee—I hope when I return it’s to the blinding vision of enlightenment.”
Francesca waits until Eloise disappears through the doors before looking at Michaela, “have you?”
Michaela is more than fine with letting the whole conversation drop—after all they’ve literally just met and will be spending the next few days together—she actually fully expects Francesca to change the subject, “have I what?”
Francesca’s mouth bypasses her brain, her voice coming out in something rougher than a whisper, “have you ever had amazing sex with a woman.”
Michaela arches her brow, shifts a little in her seat, and can’t quite help but stare at the way Francesca’s teeth are biting into her bottom lip, “would you really like to know.”
Francesca nods, “I’ve never had amazing sex.”
Michaela swallows down a sound suspiciously close to a groan, “that is a travesty.”
“It’s never really bothered me.” Francesca is being honest; because it hasn’t. “It’s always been fine, but nothing more than that—sorry, my god, I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.”
“Please, Francesca.” Michaela’s smile is teasing, “at the rate you and I are becoming acquainted—well, there is no need for apologies.”
“This is the most bumbling first meeting I’ve ever had.” Francesca confesses as if Michaela isn’t living it with her, “which is a feat because I’m naturally awkward.”
“Well, it’s the most entertaining first meeting I’ve ever had.” Michaela tosses Francesca’s words back at her, “which is a feat because I’m a notoriously hard woman to entertain.”
Francesca taps out an unfinished melody against the table top as she thinks about what to say next. Usually she can mentally plan her way through any conversation but Michaela seems to be upending any control Francesca once had. Normally she would follow Michaela’s statement with: well, what do you find entertaining? But instead she asks what she actually wants to know, “so, you have had amazing sex with a woman then?”
Michaela tips her head back and laughs, “you, Francesca Bridgerton, are trouble.”
It’s the first time Francesca has ever been accused of being trouble, and she assumes it’s not supposed to make her want to continue being trouble, but the way it sounds coming from Michaela’s mouth has her rethinking that assumption, “so, that’s a yes?”
Eloise pushes through the door, a cardboard drink holder precariously held in her hand, with three drinks and three crinkly bags of pastries, “ladies, the goods have been acquired, shall we head out?”
Francesca doesn’t look away from Michaela, and makes no move to stand, but addresses Eloise, “we shall, you’ve already made us late enough.”
Eloise huffs in annoyance as she turns towards the parking lot, glancing back over her shoulder with a glare, “it seems like you’re enjoying the surprise I brought though.”
Francesca doesn’t respond—she’s a terrible liar and she’s also not about to admit Eloise is right.
Michaela though—she smiles, pushes herself up from the chair, and steps forward, fully into Francesca’s space. Something about the way Francesca sways a little more forward into her orbit makes Michaela want to devour her—she settles for leaning down until her mouth is hovering at Francesca’s ear, “since you’re so curious Francesca, the answer is yes. I’ve had sex, amazing sex…with women.”
Francesca bites down on her bottom lip to try and trap the whine that’s desperately trying to escape. Michaela’s warm breath against her ear has Francesca fighting back a shiver as she tries not to squirm against her seat.
Michaela pulls back quickly, almost as if nothing had even happened, and grabs her bag, “I’m more than happy to answer any other questions you have Francesca, all you have to do is ask.”
All Francesca can do is nod.
And try to survive.