To those who are interested: another snippet from my modern AU Niylarke fic, The First Law of Motion, below the cut...
Octavia slumps into the lawn chair beside Niylah and passes her a beer from the cooler. Over at the grill, Lincoln turns the burgers and hotdogs while Nate and Monty toss a baseball with Aurora. She’s only three but she’s already got a strong throwing arm.
“She’s pretty good, you think you might enrol her in little league once she’s old enough?” Niylah asks, after taking a long, refreshing pull on the bottle.
Octavia gives a proud smile. “Well, baseball is flavour of the month at the moment. Last month it was soccer. So who knows what it’ll be by then?”
Niylah hums, watching the scene behind her shades. They’re quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the fading rays of the evening sunshine, watching the smoke rising from the grill, that wonderful smell of charcoal and sizzling meat filling the air.
“So… Monty tells me you’re seeing someone.” It’s dropped too casually while Octavia picks at the label of her bottle and watches her daughter take a turn to catch the ball.
Octavia looks at her dubiously.
“Really.” Niylah’s shoulder lifts. She sips at the beer, the hoppy taste of it thick on her tongue. “It’s purely physical.”
“Fuck buddies?” Octavia whispers behind the cover of her hand.
“Yeah. Although I’d hardly say we’re friends. We, uh, don’t really talk much.”
Octavia’s jaw drops slightly while she stares. “Niylah, you dark horse. What does she look like? Do you have a picture of her?”
Niylah squints behind her sunglasses. “Why would I have a picture of her?”
“You could be stalking her on Facebook.”
“That’s more Lincoln’s style than mine,” is her wry response. She purses her lips, conjuring an image of Clarke in her mind. Unable to suppress an absent smile. “She’s blonde, blue-eyed, 5’4”, great figure. Amazing rack.”
Octavia lifts her beer in salute. “You always were a boob girl.”
“True,” Niylah laughs shortly, clinking bottles. “And Clarke’s are...” She blows out a slow breath.
“So hot. Her voice, O. It’s kind of low and gritty and it’s honestly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Remind me again why you’re not dating this woman?”
Across the yard Lincoln starts plating up the food, Monty leaving the game of catch to help him with the bread and buns. Niylah sighs quietly into the lip of her bottle, swallows another mouthful of the pale golden liquid.
“I think her last relationship hit her pretty hard. She clams up whenever things get too personal.”
“Hm, what? You disapprove?”
“No. You go girl. Yay orgasms. Et cetera. Just…” Octavia levels her with a serious look. “I hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all. That you’re on the same page. Otherwise things could get messy.”
Despite herself, Niylah’s mouth ticks up in a fond smile. “I do and we are. But your concern is duly noted.”
“Someone’s gotta look out for you. So, tell me more about the mysterious Clarke. What does she do?”
Lincoln wanders over, a plate in each hand filled with salad and chargrilled meat. He stoops to press a warm kiss to Octavia’s cheek as he passes her one plate. “You guys need another beer?”
“We’re good. Thanks, babe,” Octavia says.
Niylah takes the other plate off him. “Compliments to the chef.”
There’s a short lull during which Octavia ogles her husband’s ass while he walks away. Niylah shakes her head in good humour.
It takes Octavia half a moment to recover. “Sorry, you were saying? About Clarke?”
“She works in the arts. A gallery curator.”
“Oh, no. Is she pretentiously WASP-y?”
“Tell me she’s not a hipster douchebag.”
“O, you think everyone under the age of twenty five is a hipster.”
“Usually they are.” Octavia reaches over to poke Niylah on the arm. “And I’m including you in that bracket, by the way. I hope Clarke likes Bon Iver, Wes Anderson movies, and eating weird street food.”
“I mean, maybe? We don’t spend a whole lot of time discussing our musical preferences and what’s on our respective Netflix queues,” Niylah smirks.
“Seriously, all you do is…?”
Niylah pops a leaf of salad into her mouth. “That’s essentially the definition of a fuck buddy. I know you’re living in the suburbs now but surely you’re not that out of touch?”
“Har har. Don’t you feel a little…” Octavia makes a face. “Used, though? Maybe I’m old fashioned but I’d at least like someone to buy me dinner first.”
“No. At least we’re being transparent with each other about what we want without all the other bullshit getting in the way.” If Niylah sounds a little defensive, she hopes Octavia doesn’t challenge her on it. “It’s just casual sex.”
“Well.” Octavia settles her plate in her lap. “If you’re happy with the arrangement then good for you.”
Niylah gives a decisive nod. “I am.”
They tuck into their food in companionable silence and Niylah purposefully doesn’t think about what Clarke might be doing right now, whether she would get along with Octavia and the rest of her friends.
