I love this scene for so many reasons. It's buzzy and earnest and it’s the first time Michaela lets herself look at Francesca with plain desire. (with the exception of a few stolen glances when Fran’s annoyed with her.) But my favourite thing is that Francesca is openly enjoying the attention. She holds Michaela's gaze, she lingers. And that's new.
In Francesca's experience, being looked at meant one of two things: a social misstep, or male interest. She either said something off-putting again, or she's being appraised by an elligible suitor. And with the exception of John, the attention of men always brought a kind of suffocating dread. It made her body go tight. Her skin crawl with the urge to escape. She's been told all her life that masculine performance of desire is welcome and flattering. So she thinks something must be wrong with her.
(And John is the exception for a reason. When they first meet, he's looking at the night sky. She looks at him first. She speaks first. She's charmed by how he takes her as she is. How he only wants her to be as she's always been.)
And as it turns out, when it’s a gorgeous, fast-talking, devilishly charming woman who is looking at her, rather than some man, it feels different. It feels warm. It spreads slowly, a soft heat under her skin. A pleasant tingle. Francesca's a little tipsy, a little unguarded, and she wants to hold Michaela's gaze. She doesn't know why. Only that she wants to feel it. To stay there, close, suspended in it. And she does.
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gummygunk
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