Sparks in the Yard
Sparks in the Yard
The yard was quieter than usual that evening. The constant hum of welding torches, the clank of spanners, and the harsh whir of engines had all gone silent with the workers. What remained was the faint metallic scent of grease and oil, the sharp tang of electricity still lingering in the air, and the pale orange wash of sunset cutting through the half-open hangar doors.
Ree leaned against one of the broken-down vehicles, watching the light hit the dust motes as they swirled lazily in the air. She had been restless all day—her mind darting between fragments of memory she didn’t want to linger on, and the strange, warming pull of companionship she had found in Tasha.
And Tasha was here now.
Bent over an engine block, her hair tied back with a grease-stained rag, Tasha looked like she belonged to the yard. Her toned arms glistened faintly with sweat, her overalls folded down to her waist, leaving a dark tank top clinging to her curves. There was strength in the way she moved, a kind of bold ease that pulled Ree’s eyes again and again without her permission.
“You’re staring,” Tasha said, not looking up. Her voice was amused, smooth, carrying a hint of playfulness that made Ree’s stomach flutter.
Ree straightened quickly, her cheeks heating. “I wasn’t. Just… thinking.”
Tasha finally looked up, and her grin was quick and knowing. “Mm. Thinking with your eyes, maybe.”
Ree swallowed. “You’re too full of yourself.”
“Or maybe you’re too quiet,” Tasha countered, setting down her wrench. She stepped closer, wiping her hands on a rag, the smell of oil and soap clinging to her. “I’ve noticed something about you, Ree. You carry tension like armor. Always coiled. Always braced.”
Ree blinked, caught off guard. “I—”
Tasha didn’t give her a chance to finish. “But I’ve also seen the way you soften when you laugh. Like the other day, when you couldn’t stop giggling about that old hover-bike I tried to fix. That laugh looked good on you.”
Ree’s chest tightened. Compliments always made her uneasy, but coming from Tasha, they sank deeper, brushing places inside her she hadn’t let anyone touch in a long time. She tried to deflect, whispering, “You’re just saying that.”
“No,” Tasha said simply. She tossed the rag aside, then leaned back against the hood of the car beside Ree, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “I don’t just say things. I mean them.”
The contact was small, but it sent a crackle down Ree’s skin. She kept her eyes on the floor, aware of her heartbeat quickening, aware of the warmth radiating from Tasha’s body so close to her own.
“Why do you look at me like that?” Ree asked softly, almost against her will.
Tasha tilted her head, considering. “Like what?”
“Like you’re… seeing something I don’t even see myself.”
Tasha’s smile softened into something gentler. “Maybe that’s because you’ve spent too long hiding from yourself.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Ree’s cheek, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
Ree froze, breath catching. The touch was simple, tender, but it lit something inside her—something electric, dangerous, and thrilling.
The silence stretched, thick with tension.
Ree forced herself to breathe. “You make it sound easy. Like… like I can just stop being guarded.”
Tasha’s eyes held hers, steady and sure. “You don’t have to stop all at once. Just… let yourself be here. Right now. With me.”
Something in the way she said it broke past Ree’s defenses. She nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Tasha caught it.
The next thing Ree knew, Tasha’s hand was cupping her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Ree’s lips parted, unsteady. The distance between them felt unbearable. And then—Tasha leaned in, slow, giving Ree every chance to pull away.
Ree didn’t.
Their lips touched—soft at first, tentative. Ree’s body jolted like a wire sparking to life. Her fingers gripped the edge of the car behind her for balance, because her knees suddenly felt weak.
Tasha pulled back just enough to murmur, “See? Sparks.” Her breath was warm against Ree’s mouth.
Ree couldn’t stop herself. She leaned forward, chasing the taste of her again, more desperate this time. The kiss deepened, Tasha’s lips sure and coaxing, her hand sliding to the back of Ree’s neck. Ree’s heart thundered, her body pressing closer as heat pooled low in her belly.
She hadn’t felt this alive in so long. Not with Kellan’s memory haunting her, not with the shadow of danger always at her back. With Tasha, here in this quiet yard, she felt something different. Something raw.
Tasha broke the kiss, her forehead resting against Ree’s. “You’re trembling.”
Ree let out a shaky laugh. “Maybe because you… you make me nervous.”
“Good,” Tasha whispered, brushing her thumb along Ree’s lower lip. “Means you care.”
Ree wanted to deny it, but the truth was written all over her body—her flushed skin, her quick breaths, the way her hand had unconsciously slipped to Tasha’s waist, holding on like she couldn’t bear to let go.
The yard seemed to fade—the cars, the tools, even the sunset outside. All Ree could feel was the thrum of Tasha’s nearness, the warmth of her body, the promise lingering in every brush of their lips.
For a moment, Ree forgot everything else. The world’s dangers, her fears, the constant watchful eyes she imagined at her back—it all slipped away. There was only this. Only Tasha.