Abby and Violet (Yuri Light Novel)

I woke up and rolled in her bed, searching for Abby, but she wasn’t there. She had either gone out for a morning run or gym, or she had left me sleep to compensate the late hour we got into bed.

I didn’t feel like sleeping any longer, but getting out of bed was also such a drag. I’d stay in bed for now, lying face down and staring at the window’s curtains.

“Haah, I have to go there again,” I grumbled.

I didn’t if I had already told my manager that I quit, something I told myself immediately after.

“Today! I’ll do that today!”

“What are you going to do?”

I raised my head to look where her voice was coming from. Abby was walking inside, her hair slightly damp.

I told her about my plan to which she nodded approvingly as she sat by me. Then, she sat on me, using my butt as a pillow for hers and placed her hands on my shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze. It was painful, but in a good way. Not the pain per se, the relief I felt after.

“Let’s see if there are so many knots and tension on your shoulders a week after you take care of that,” she told me jokingly.

“Mmh, I hope not,” I moaned lazily.

She laughed and kept going while I tried not to let out any weird sounds, but a moan or two would escape after something in my muscles popped with a sharp pang followed by a sense of looseness in them.

“Seriously though, it wasn’t supposed to pop like this,” she said.

“Come on Abby, as if that wasn’t to be expected from me.”

“Babe, this is way beyond anything to be expected! I’m dead serious.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” I moaned back, feeling too relaxed to worry for once.

She had small hands but good grip strength, no doubt from going to the gym. That made her massage feel wonderful. It was reminding me of that time she gave me a shoulder rub in class, almost half a year ago. No, I think it might have been longer than that. I think it was around the time Mathilda talked with me about the Christmas diner. So, yeah, that made it…

“…Wait… what did you call me just now?” I asked.

“Hmm? When?”

“Just now, when you told me the way my muscles are popping are beyond reasonable.”

“Erm… dunno,” she said with a shrug. “I was too distracted with the sounds coming from you.”

“…Am I moaning too much?”

“Ah! Sorry, I meant the popping. Hehe, I don’t mind the moaning though.”

Neither did I, as a matter of fact. After everything we did together, most of my sense of shame had faded. I mean, I was practically in my birthday suit with her sitting on me, touching my bare skin, and I was almost falling asleep again.

“Hehe, don’t fall asleep now or I’ll turn off your phone.”

That would be problematic. I did want to quit, but I didn’t want to give my manager any fuel to be a bigger jerk.

As for what Abby called me… it could have been just a trick of my ears. And if it wasn’t… well, it was very sweet of her.

Come to think of it… will we start calling each other couple nicknames?

If we did, what would be a good one for her? Dear? Sweetheart? Babe too?

“…What?” she asked, curious about why I was suddenly staring at her so intently.

Honey. That could be it. She was sweet, “sticky” and her hair colour reminded me of it. Once we start dating, I might call her that. When nobody else is around, that is. My sense of shame still flared up in public, for better or for worse.

Our alone time run out, and I had to go to work. Today I was particularly miffed about it. Abby had an appointment with her therapist and I couldn’t go with her. She was in a good mood when she left fifteen minutes before me, so I was hoping she’d remain like that, but I was still fussing a bit.

“Why the frown?” Margaret asked while we polished glasses. Again. We had done that so often, liquid that was poured in them would seem like it was floating. It saved us from getting an earful from our manager, that was why we’d still do it. “Problems with your girlfriend?”

“No, not about her exactly. It’s just that…”

I looked at Margaret. There was a wide smirk in her face telling me I had confirmed suspicions she held for some time.

“That girl who came to pick you up on Valentine’s day, right?”

“Erm… w-we aren’t dating… yet… I think…”

She kept smiling, but she added a frown and a head tilt to her expression.

I didn’t have any other person I could talk about this sort of issue, and she didn’t seem to have any problems with me being lesbian, so… I talked to her about our relationship. And she heard me out. It felt nice to confide on someone about stuff I couldn’t with Abby.

I didn’t give any details about Abby’s issues, just that today she had an appointment we always went together but that today I couldn’t go due to work.

“Yes, that’s annoying, but think of it this way: when you get home, it will feel all the sweeter.”

Yeah, I could see Abby rushing me as soon as I opened the door for a tight hug and kiss on the cheek with more excitement than usual. That made me feel eager about getting home, but also that my time was being robbed by the restaurant. Fortunately, that would end today.

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you exclusively like girls, or do you swing both ways?”

“Erm, just girls. Why?”

Even in my answer I wasn’t too sure. I was interested in Abby, both as a person and physically. What about other girls? Well, I enjoyed looking at them a lot more than boys, but… did that make me a lesbian as I referred to myself just a bit ago? Abby was the first person I had ever liked, so I was questioning if I’d still have fallen for her if she was a boy.

Well, whatever. I like Abby, and that’s enough for me.

None of that mattered to me. I’d still love Abby and be me regardless of labels, so why worry so much about it? I’d just go with the flow, as I’ve been learning with Abby. That has been working out for me anyway.

“I just feel like it’s a bit of a shame a pretty girl like you not ever getting the chance of having kids.”

“…There’s a medical condition in my family that they’d inherit and most likely lead them to an early death, so…”

It was my first time seeing Margaret lose her composure. She poured excuses like a broken faucet let out water.

Before I could get another word out, the door leading to the kitchen flung open and the man who was the chef stormed out shouting curse words. Following him, beet red with anger, was our manager.

“Don’t turn your back to me! If you leave through that door, I swear, you’ll never be able to work in this town!”

“Oh yeah!?” the chef shouted as he turned. “I’m sure they’ll listen to a two-cent, cheap wine drinking, business illiterate, money burning jackanape! Who better to tell if someone is a good worker or not than the guy driving a business to the ground, right!?”

Margaret and I kept watching them from the sidelines, our hands not stopping working, while the two men hurled insults at each other. I get that they were furious, but did they really need to use such colourful language?

“Whatever! A prison serves better food than this dump!” the chef proclaimed before turning around and leaving, completely ignoring the shouts from the manager.

“And you two!” he shouted, now focusing his attention on us. “What are you two doing?”

I was lucky to have Margaret there to deal with him. She took the brunt of his foul mood while I got to hang behind until he went inside his office.

“Humph. Time for us to start looking for another job.”

“Oh, I’m quitting today.”

“Today?”

Well, maybe not today. I wasn’t looking forward to it before, and after seeing the man foaming with rage… No thanks. Maybe if he had calmed down around the night shift, but I wasn’t holding my hopes up.

“Haah, and to think I’ll have to go through the hassle of looking for work after ten years of working here.”

“Ten years?”

“Yeah. This place hasn’t been this mess from the start. It all began going downhill after the owner was diagnosed with cancer and the manager started running things like he was the boss of the place. It was around the time you started working here.”

If that were the case, then how was Le Perrot back then? As fancy as the manager pretended it to be, or was it actually more down to earth while still maintaining a nice level of service?

It was without all the pretence, she assured me.

I then remembered something that could help her.

I took out my phone, my pen and block of paper and wrote down the contact number of Mrs. Fletcher, tearing away that page and handing it to Margaret.

“This lady is looking for someone to work at her bed-and-breakfast. She offered me a part-time job, but maybe she’ll have something for you?”

“Are you sure about it?” she asked, clearly touched by my gesture. “I might steal the job from you.”

“T-that’s fine… I don’t want it and… I want to be free this summer for… you know…”

Before taking the paper from me she gave me a hug I was neither expecting, nor knew how to requite. I also felt like I was cheating on Abby a bit.

“Welcome back!”

As Margaret had suggested and me guessed, us meeting again was sweeter than normal. I didn’t even have time to close the door and I already had her pouncing on me for a hug.

“Fufu, I’m back,” I said, squeezing her back.

Abby pulled her head back a bit and I saw her nose twitch as she sniffed me.

“I smell another woman.”

“W-what!?”

“Another woman hugged you,” she repeated, sounding absolutely certain. Not particularly jealous though.

“I erm, I gave Mrs. Fletcher’s contact to Margaret because she wants to find a new job and she hugged me because she was feeling thankful.”

“And that Margaret, she’s a co-worker?”

“Y-yeah. And she’s about double our age and a mother of two.”

“Hmm. It’s fine, then.”

“…Were you jealous?”

“Oh please. It’s not like you’re a person who freely gives hugs, right?”

I couldn’t understand if she was being sarcastic and indeed felt a bit jealous, was telling me she didn’t because she knew I had a good reason for being hugged, or that she was admitting to feeling jealous because if I hugged someone, it was because I was close to them.

“No, silly, I was not,” she told me, seeing my confusion all over my face. “I know you only hug me and Oliver.”

I thought back to when Margaret hugged me, and also to when her sister did the same. How I felt then compared to how I was feeling now with our arms around each other, it was night and day. With the others, it felt clumsy, unnatural. With Abby, my arms felt perfect around her.

“…You know… she was the second person besides you that I hugged and I felt like I sucked at it.”

“Hmm? You do it pretty nicely with me though. Ah! Are you saying I’m the only person you know how to do it properly?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

Her body began swaying side to side while her shoulders bobbed up and down. She was having another giggling fit.

Yup. It’s nice to be back home.

“You know, I really think you’re great at taking care of others. I admire that side of you a lot, but—and please, don’t get offended by it—but you suck at taking care of yourself.”

I’ve had those words echoing in my head the whole time after she spoke them until it was time for me to go back to the restaurant. Hopefully, this would be my last time going there.

“Do you think you’ll be able to come back sooner?” she asked at the door.

How was I supposed to know that? It all depended on that man and how well he took the fact I was quitting.

Her father heard our talk from where he sat and asked exactly how late I would be arriving.

“In that case, I’ll go and pick you up,” he said after we told him how late I was getting home on average.

I told him that wasn’t necessary, but he was adamant about it. He wasn’t going to let me, an underage girl, walk home that far into the night. I was his responsibility as long as I was sleeping at his place.

I had no doubts part of his reasoning was also a feeling of being in dept towards me for the things I did for Abby. That knowledge was the main thing weighing towards me accepting his offer.

Maybe Abby was right. Maybe I really sucked at taking care of myself. If that was the case, maybe I should accept the help others offer.

“Well, see you in a bit,” I told Abby before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Hehe, be safe and good luck.”

Luck I already had, I had her after all, what I needed was to not chicken out again.