Souvenir

Lilian returned late, still carrying the scent of salt and spice from the trip. She set the souvenir on the table, but Kaylie never glanced at it. Her eyes were on Lilian, dark with hunger that had no use for trinkets. Months of missing her had turned soft longing into something hotter, a craving she no longer tried to hide. Kaylie stepped close, hands trembling with how much she needed the real thing—Lilie's arms around her again, the brush of soft lips at the corner of her mouth, the slow melt of skin on skin she’d ached for every night. Lilian understood without words. The gift she placed on the table stayed wrapped; her hands instead went to the line of Kaylie’s jaw, thumbs stroking once before she pulled her friend closer and gave her everything she had been waiting for.