Iman starts at Greta's voice, turning with mingled embarrassment and relief Whatever she'd been about to think or say, however, screeches to a blinding halt and the sight of her, that color, that neckline, that everything.
She only distantly registers that the voice that speaks is not her own narrator, though the words fit well enough - the voice is different, and the way it sort of drifts into audibility doesn't fit with how hers has been clear as a bell the whole time.
Oh no. Oh no oh no. She'd thought no one could hear her voice but with increased proximity she's hearing Greta's. And if she can hear Greta's-
:Iman turns to greet Greta in kind but doesn't make it that far, standing instead rooted to the spot at the sight of her, speechless. She really ought to pull herself together but she can't. No amount of imagined daydreams could have prepared her for the actual sight of Greta in an elegant low-necked evening gown. She's stunning. She's flawless. Iman staggers back like she's trying to escape. She feels the pull sit down abruptly, but defies the urge with every scrap of will she has. She will not make more of a fool of herself than she already has. She covers her face to hide the blush, minutes too late.:
"Noooo," she whimpers from behind her hands, praying for the voice to just stop already, before she actually ignites from the heat of her shame.
:This is agonizing. It reminds her of the texts her phone sent, the premature truths she worked so hard to conceal. She still remembers every word. They might as well be etched into her heart. Greta I know we just met in the relative scheme of things and you don't know me all that well but I think I might be in love with you. You probably didn't realize a woman could love another woman like that? I don't know we've never talked about your relative understanding of gender and sexual norms. But I can teach you about that stuff. Not for ME, for you. You're so lovely, I hope this isn't too much.:
"STOP IT," she shrieks at the ether, flailing away from Greta as if to protect her, like she might be a bomb about to go off. She reaches out at random, grabs a bottle of wine off the table, stares at it, then breaks into a run.
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She only distantly registers that the voice that speaks is not her own narrator, though the words fit well enough - the voice is different, and the way it sort of drifts into audibility doesn't fit with how hers has been clear as a bell the whole time.
Oh no. Oh no oh no. She'd thought no one could hear her voice but with increased proximity she's hearing Greta's. And if she can hear Greta's-
:Iman turns to greet Greta in kind but doesn't make it that far, standing instead rooted to the spot at the sight of her, speechless. She really ought to pull herself together but she can't. No amount of imagined daydreams could have prepared her for the actual sight of Greta in an elegant low-necked evening gown. She's stunning. She's flawless. Iman staggers back like she's trying to escape. She feels the pull sit down abruptly, but defies the urge with every scrap of will she has. She will not make more of a fool of herself than she already has. She covers her face to hide the blush, minutes too late.:
"Noooo," she whimpers from behind her hands, praying for the voice to just stop already, before she actually ignites from the heat of her shame.
:This is agonizing. It reminds her of the texts her phone sent, the premature truths she worked so hard to conceal. She still remembers every word. They might as well be etched into her heart. Greta I know we just met in the relative scheme of things and you don't know me all that well but I think I might be in love with you. You probably didn't realize a woman could love another woman like that? I don't know we've never talked about your relative understanding of gender and sexual norms. But I can teach you about that stuff. Not for ME, for you. You're so lovely, I hope this isn't too much.:
"STOP IT," she shrieks at the ether, flailing away from Greta as if to protect her, like she might be a bomb about to go off. She reaches out at random, grabs a bottle of wine off the table, stares at it, then breaks into a run.