Page 11 of Not My Problem

She headed towards a metal shed that was set up against the back of her garage, bringing out gloves and some tools before pulling out a lawn mower. She parked it in front of me, then turned towards the garden.

“Wait,” I called. “I don’t know how to work this.”

To her credit, she kept her face neutral as she showed me how to turn the mower on and off.

“You want to move up and down in lines to save yourself from doubling back,” she said. “Whatever you do, keep your hands and feet away from the blades.”

“Got it.”

“Hold it here,” she demonstrated squeezing the handle. “If you see a rock or a stick or something in your way, release the handle and stop the mower so you can move it. If you run it over, it might kick back from the back of the mower and hit you.”

“Okay.”

She watched as I started it the way she showed me and began cutting the grass. Once she was satisfied that I’d gotten the hang of it, Gretchen walked over to the garden, kneeling down to reach the plants, periodically pulling something out of the dirt. It all looked the same to me, so I was glad I’d picked the mowing. With my luck I would have pulled something she wanted to keep growing.

Mowing was surprisingly meditative. I moved up and down the lawn, eyes carefully fixed on the grass for potential hazards while my mind quieted and I zoned out. Before I knew it I’d finished the entire back yard. I turned off the mower, then called out, “Should I get the front too?”

“Yeah, that would be great. And get your grandma’s too.”

“Got it.”

By the time I’d mowed both of the front lawns I was pleasantly tired, super sweaty, and dying of thirst. Gretchen was just finishing with her weeding, so we packed the tools back into the shed and headed back to the deck.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll bring us some cold drinks.”

I sank into one of the Adirondack chairs, slouching down and propping my feet up on the post in front of me. Gretchen returned with two glasses full of lemonade with ice.

“Damn, this tastes good,” I said as I drained half the glass in one long gulp.

“I bought some premade lemonade at the store this morning,” Gretchen said, leaning against the railing a couple of feet away from me. She had a smudge of dirt across her cheek, her nails were filthy, and her hair was plastered against her head. She looked adorable.

“You have dirt there,” I said, pointing at her cheek.

She swiped at her cheek.

“Other side.”

She swiped some more but managed to miss it.

“Hold on, I’ll get it for you.”

Setting down my drink on the table, I pushed up to stand and walked closer. I used my thumb to swipe the mud off Gretchen’s cheek, then of its own volition my hand stayed by her cheek and I pressed my palm against her soft skin. Her eyes flew to mine, and I read the question there as we both stood completely still, staring at each other.

I leaned closer, waiting for permission, and when she set her lemonade glass on the railing and stepped closer, I took that for the invitation it was. My hands came to her shoulders and I lowered my head, stopping when our lips were only an inch or two apart.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

“This.”

I’d seen enough of those Hallmark Christmas movies to understand the moment when people kissed for the first time, and everything shifted between them. I just hadn’t believed that happened in real life. But it did. My lips pressed against hers, both of us still for a full ten seconds, then as if we’d choreographed it, we moved closer at the exact same time.

Gretchen opened her mouth and when I dipped my tongue between her lips she sucked it into her mouth. I made a needy sound as our tongues tangled, not exactly fighting for control, more like sharing it. My heart started racing and I immediately wanted more.

Gretchen’s hands slid down to my ass, drawing me closer until I was plastered against her, pinning her between my body and the deck railing. She was a couple of inches shorter than me and our bodies fit together perfectly, her breasts slotting in just beneath mine, my pelvis grinding against her belly.

Gretchen tilted her head, getting a better angle, and I explored her mouth while her hands explored the curves of my ass. I could feel my nipples tightening almost painfully against the fabric of my bra as my panties grew damp with arousal.

When I finally pulled back we were both breathing heavily and I was sure that the shocked look in Gretchen’s eyes mirrored my own. I’d had dozens of first kisses, maybe more. Men, women, nonbinary, I’d always been attracted to a wide variety of people with very little focus on their physical appearance. But every kiss, every attraction that I’d ever experienced faded compared to what I was feeling right now. It was electric.