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HuniePop: Valentine's Rush

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It's a small relief that the hallway is deserted, Beli decides. She's certain she'll die of shame if anyone catches her, the yoga and fitness specialist, struggling to push down a simple office stapler.

"Come on now," she pleads, bearing her full weight onto the little paper pincher. "Just one staple? Please?" Now is not the time for her office supplies to be growing a stubborn streak, not when that day is fast approaching.

February the fourteenth. Valentine's Day to the lucky few who have found someone worth sharing their lives with, a day of tender exchanges and romantic gestures. A day to reaffirm your feelings for that one important person who sets your heart ablaze.

To Beli's side of the population, it's a day of shame and oppression. A "what, you're still single?" day. A "honey, you can't be so picky" day. A "madhu, why haven't you called that nice Indian boy your auntie told you about?" day. Every exclamation makes her sink a little deeper into her den of insecurities.

Well Beli Lapran has had enough of living in the shadow of February's judgemental fourteenth day, thank you very much! This will be the year that everything changes. Grunting and giving a good push on her stapler, she steps back and admires the poster she's tacked onto the fitness center's bulletin board:

Single Women's Appreciation Retreat

February 14th - Hosted by Beli Lapran

A day of rejuvenation and female companionship.

$20 for activities. Lunch is provided.

Yes, she smiles firmly, this is exactly what she and her friends need to strike back against Valentine's oppression. A day all to themselves, no grumbling over cocktails about the lack of good men and the abundance of rotten luck. No, this year the focus would be on themselves – to celebrate the freedom and fulfillment of single living!

She has the day planned to a tee. They'll begin with a meditation at Dawnwood Park to imbue themselves with energy and positivity. To invigorate their bodies, a healthy picnic luncheon of finger sandwiches and sparkling lemonade will follow. Afterwards, they'll attend a group poetry reading at the Blue Note café, and they'll cap off the afternoon with a road trip to the local winery just outside of town for a special tasting session. As the sun sets over the vineyards, she and her friends will laugh gaily and sip from the finest cabernet sauvignon as they enjoy the delightful conversation and camaraderie that can only be found among the female sex.

It will be elegant, it will be refreshing; it will be everything wonderful and feminine!

It will be unattended.

Jessie is the first to bow out. "Sorry, hon, I've got a hot date booked that day; not to mention I'm hosting a very special cam show for all of my single fans."

"Oh, I see…" It stands to reason that February 14th would be a prime work day for people in Jessie's … profession, but – "Won't that be a problem? Will your date really be okay with you … um, camming?"

"He'd better," Jessie grins. "After all, he's co-starring!"

Aiko is next, and at first the math teacher is game. "Singles party, sounds fun. Hang on, lemmie check my schedule." Her Asian friend retrieves her phone from her bra and swipes at the screen. "Hmm… I'm good, I'm good, I'm –" Aiko's finger pauses. "Very good! Sorry Beli, but I'm spending the day with –" she consults her phone again, "AsianTrucker69."

The Tinder username doesn't actually read 'Trucker' but Beli can't even bring herself to say something so vulgar, never mind narrate it. Aiko is out.

That leaves Lola, and while the flight attendant will be in town that weekend, she'll be sequestering herself in training. "Big tennis tournament coming up and my coach is making me work all day," Lola explains, all the while cracking tennis balls tossed her way by an automated pitching machine. Beli is careful to keep her distance from the power shots but she's getting desperate at this point.

"Couldn't you at least join us for the winery?" she pleads.

"Wish I could." Lola levels her a sly grin, "but let's just say I'll be making my coach work all night long."

Like a stray tennis ball, disappointment hits Beli in the gut. Her friends – her pantheon of strong, single women – they all have dates.

But then Beli scolds herself for not wishing well of her friends. She admires them all dearly to the point of dreaming she could be more like them. In her mind, she imagines herself saddled up on a bar stool in a strapless cocktail dress, radiating Jessie's effortless poise, Aiko's lackadaisical charm and Lola's bubbly confidence as she sips a dirty martini and lets the men vie to light her cigarette. In her mind, she is the one commanding the attention and offering apologies to her friends. "Wish I could stay, ladies, but I have a long, hard meeting tonight," she purrs, gesturing to the two gorgeous specimens paying her bar tab and fetching her coat.

A shabbily dressed and sickly-looking Jessie fawns enviously before hacking up a lung. "You're an amazing woman, Beli! I thought my life of adult film-making would shower me in glamour, but all it brought me are venereal diseases and loneliness…"

"Oh Beli," a worn-down Lola sighs, "if only I could live the high life like you; instead, I'm constantly harassed by obnoxious airline passengers and uppity baristas. Even my many chintzy tennis trophies can't bring me satisfaction…"

Dream Aiko gives her a thumbs up. "A threesome - nice work, kiddo. I gotta go finish this cold can of Spaghetti-Os before AsianTrucker69 comes to plow me."

In her mind, everyone pauses to blink.

"What?" Dream Aiko shrugs as she flips through a worn copy of Jugs. "My real life's already in the shitter. I just don't give a damn."

Beli shakes herself back to reality, where she scolds herself for indulging such vindictive fantasies. She wishes each friend good luck and happiness on their Valentine activities, reminding herself what a privilege it is to be allowed into their social circle.

But it does sting, knowing she's been left behind.


When Judgement Day rolls around, Beli plods dutifully to the park, yoga mat and picnic basket in tow, reasoning that, even though no one's RSVP'd, she could still get some last-minute hits through her posters, and it would be terribly ungracious if she as a host didn't show up.

And so she waits, glancing at the passing couples, trying to play it cool as she checks her watch. Trying not to fidget nervously. One of her students will show up, right?

Five minutes past the meeting time – an eternity of torment – but just as Beli is preparing to give up and leave, the sound of sandals crunching through the grass perks her up like a sunflower.

"Hiya, Bels! We ready to get this party started?"

She immediately wilts. Oh truck, Beli moans. Truck, truck, truckity-truck!

It's Kyanna Delrio, the new student in her evening yoga class, and the last person Beli wants to spend an entire day alone with.

"Am I early?" Kyanna checks, palm to her brow as she scans the field. "I thought you were throwing a kick-ass party. Where's everyone else?"

"Oh, ah, I suppose they made other plans," Beli murmurs. Inside, she's frantically scrambling for an escape route. "I was just about to pack up –" but as soon as she rises to her feet, Kyanna scoops her arm around Beli's shoulders, squishing the taller woman tight with a forceful hug.

"Guess the two of us will just have to party it up for the whole group, huh? Aw, this is sweet - I get some one-on-one time with my favorite yoga buddy! Damn, I should've brought my workout gear, flash a little downward dog for all the passing studs, eh Bels?"

The younger woman claps her on the back like they're best bros at a football party, and Beli tries not to wince at the forceful hit. "Yes... How wonderful, Kyanna..."

God, Buddha, Allah - whoever's out there listening, what horrible, horrible past lives had she lived to earn a day with Kyanna Delrio?


It was a month ago when the Latina first barged into her yoga class – thrusting her crumpled application form into Beli's face and flashing a big, goofy grin. "Kyanna Delrio! I'm gonna be an actress someday, so I figured I should grab some yoga classes to stay flexible. You know, keep my body loose and limber for those action and chase scenes, right?"

"Umm… of course…" Beli nodded politely. Facing Kyanna's smile was like staring into a high-intensity sunlamp; she couldn't help but avert her eyes. Beli could already sense her hair curling with nervous stress. "Um, so you know, we start at five o'clock sharp, so … next time, could you…"

"Whoops, my bad! I'll totally set my timer," Kyanna smiles, offering a wave to the irritated students sitting through this exchange. Casually, she adds, "by the way, I'm a hairdresser, so if you ever wanna fix that cut you've got, I'll totally score you a discount!"

Wha-? Beli's locks burst like worn springs. She knew she'd cut it short, but... not oddly short, right? There wasn't something wrong with her hair … was there?

Beli quickly realized that Kyanna was the sort of person she would struggle to get along with. Too blunt, too outspoken, and completely lacking in any filters.

"Hey Teach - you're Indian, right? How come you don't have one of those red dots on your head?"

"Okay, heads up, girls – I totally chowed down a bean burrito for lunch. You ladies might wanna grab the front rows today, just sayin'."

"Yo Bels, you ever get porn stars in your classes? I could totally see this yoga stuff helping in the bedroom!"

When she's not talking, Kyanna is scanning her phone for text messages in-between poses. Every session she plops her phone next to her yoga mat, breaking the meditative stillness to giggle or give a cute 'aww' – probably over some cat picture on her Facebook feed. Beli figures she's a shopaholic signed up for real-time sale updates, because sometimes after glancing at that screen, Kyanna's face will go dead serious and she'll drop everything and leave. "Sorry, gotta go," is all the explanation she ever offers.

Not only that, but when she does manage to stay until the very end of class, Kyanna is always prodding at her to take things faster. "Can we speed it up a bit, Teach?" It's practically Kyanna's motto at this point. She's always rushing through the poses, always insisting that Beli show her something more challenging when she's barely mastered the basics. Yoga is about finding peace and stillness – the perfect tranquility of a pond of water – and Kyanna is the five year old giggling as she stomps her boots through the mud.

She's constantly late for class and misses every other session, she's forever blurting whatever nonsense pops into her head, and her concept of personal space is non-existent. This is the person she's expected to spend her Valentine's Day with?

"Hey Bels, isn't it a total relief to know you're not the only dateless chick on V-Day?"

In just five minutes, her hair has sprouted more curls than Lola's ringlets. Please, Beli begs mentally, please don't lump us together…


With every activity, Beli learns a little more about her student. For starters, Kyanna has no sense of etiquette.

When Beli serves the finger sandwiches, the Latina snatches them three at a time, layering them into a triple-decker sandwich and stuffing them in her mouth all at once. Then she tries talking with the crusts still in her mouth, spitting out bits of bread and cucumber while gossiping about her flamboyant salon customers.

"And I'm like, cholo, don't yammer to me about how you're getting your hair done for your chica. We all know you're queer as three dollar bill! … Hey, you gonna finish that, Bels?"

Beli gladly surrenders her sandwich. Her stomach is far too knotted to eat at this point.

Kyanna's excited for the poetry reading but she's under the delusion that it's an open mic audience participation event. The first reader dances on stage like a kite in the breeze - a pale-faced free-spirit decorated with frizzy red hair and tye-dyed scarves and shawls. She tip-toes up to the microphone and, in a silvery voice, whispers her ode to the female sex:

"A wind of refreshment, a wall impregnable and strong. I am woman – hear my roar."

Kyanna pumps both fists in the air. "WHOO, preach it, sister!"

Beli cups a hand over her face and offers apologetic smiles to the neighbouring tables.


Kyanna is intrusive.

To keep the car ride soothing and peaceful, Beli has brought a CD collection full of pan-flute music and Kenny G smooth jazz. Kyanna piles in shotgun and assumes the role of road trip DJ. "Hope you don't mind, but I mixed a pretty sweet playlist last night. You ready to jam to my girl, Beyoncé?"

The iPod is jacked in before Beli can offer a word in edgewise, and now Kyanna is bouncing in her seat, hands beat-boxing on the dash in accompaniment to her shrill karaoke. "WHOO! ALL THE SINGLE LADIES, ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! C'mon, Bels – sing it with me, girl!"

And that's another thing – where did that nickname come from? Bels? It makes her sound like a cheap, musical souvenir, a colourful charm to be swatted about for the amusement of a high-strung kitten. The way Kyanna keeps laughing and slapping her on the shoulder, she wonders if the Latina really is trying to coax a jingle out of her.

When they finally arrive at the winery, Beli realizes there's been a grave misunderstanding. Tasting etiquette dictates that one sip their wine – absorb the flavor, take note of the subtle palette, and then spit. Kyanna is swallowing the sampler glasses left and right, tipping her head back and chugging like a college girl on spring break!

"No way, all this shit is free? Par-tay, Bels!"

The other guests are outfitted in well-pressed polo shirts and elegant summer dresses. Kyanna has come in cut-off jean shorts and a striped tank top that keeps flashing her bra straps. She looks like a pool cleaner who stumbled out of the servant's quarters. Everyone is whispering and making faces at Kyanna's antics and, by proxy, her thoroughly embarrassed host.

And Beli has had enough.

She strides up to Kyanna with her features scrunched up in a death glare and throws her drink in Kyanna's face. "How dare you," she bellows, emphasizing every word like a slap across the cheek. "I have never been so humiliated in all my life!"

At least that's how it plays out in her mind's eye. In reality, Kyanna is having a marvelous time mingling with the other guests, deflating the stuffy air with her crude jokes and celebrity gossip. She gets the women talking about their hair or their manicures and suddenly they're long-lost friends, enjoying a glass of wine and reminiscing about the good old days.

Beli, as she's come to expect of herself, hovers on the sidelines. She wants to join in - add a story, recommend a local shop - but her tongue freezes up where Kyanna's flows so freely. No one wants me here, she realizes. Everyone's far too excited to speak with the fun and boisterous Kyanna; what would they ever want from a poor, pathetic mouse like herself?

Slowly, quietly, Beli falls back to the corner, wondering how her perfect day slipped away so quickly.


"-and she has no filter! She just says whatever nonsense pops into her head!"

The facilities inside the winery include a restaurant bar with dark, oak counters and dim lighting, and it's here that Beli retreats to, spilling her woes to a fellow patron at the bar, who nods understandingly.

"Señorita, you've got the patience of a saint to put up with someone like that."

Her companion – she never did get his name – is such a good listener, and he's easy to look at too. A dark, Latin tan with impeccably trimmed hair and a smart business-casual suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders and tall build. The top buttons of his shirt are popped, and Beli can't help but dream about what that exposed skin would feel like under her hands. What his hands would feel like all over her body…

"I'm so sorry for unloading on you like this," she stammers. How Kyanna-like of her, barging in on this man's time and making a spectacle of herself. Like a gentleman, he shrugs off the apology.

"Don't say another word. We all need a chance to unwind." Thoughtful as ever, he motions for the bartender to refill Beli's glass.

"Thank you, but I really shouldn't have any more." As if to prove her point, her body pops up in a little hiccup, and they laugh together at her drunken tic. She's being so silly but he continues to smile and keep her company.

"If you're worried about driving home, you should come back to my place. I have a wonderful Australian merlot, aged twelve years. I could use a pretty woman to share it with."

"Mm, that does sound nice," she agrees, but a glance at her watch makes her wince. "It is getting late though, and I don't want to impose."

"It's not like I'm going to throw you out," he laughs. Growling into her ear, he adds, "I'd insist you stay for breakfast."

As if to make sure there's no misunderstanding, he scoops an arm around her shoulders, bringing them side by side. His remaining hand slips below the bar to squeeze her thigh.

Beli goes stiff with fright.

"Oh… I mean, I don't know …"

"C'mon, you don't want to be all alone on Valentine's Day, do you?" Closer still, his breath is burning against her ear. "Look, I'm clean as a whistle, I've got protection. I like you, and you like this, don't you?" Beli gasps in fright when his fingers slide up her leg, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"Feels good, doesn't it? I want you, Bella. I want to make you feel so good. Your first time should be special, shouldn't it?"

Amid her panic, Beli manages a small, mental wince. Is it something about her traditional clothes - her sari - that gives the impression of being sheltered? Or is it some general assumption that a women who's nervous and introverted must be a virgin? Despite the teasing of her friends, Beli has dated, and she has shared her bed with a man before, but she can't say she's ever truly enjoyed herself…

"I'm not … I mean …"

But his hand is worming up her thigh and she can only whimper. Not again. She's played through this scenario before; she recognizes the subtle pressures seeping through her paper-thin defenses. Familiar doubts re-surface in her mind. Maybe I am just being a prude… Jessie and Aiko seem so much happier with casual flings, and he does seem considerate. Maybe I am just worrying too much… Maybe this one will be sensitive to her needs, realize when she's crying out in pain instead of pleasure.

Maybe I can make something out of this... Maybe this one will actually return her calls.

At the same time her heart is jackhammering, tight with unbearable tension. "I, I mean, my car is here and-"

"Well why didn't you say so?" Suddenly his hand is cuffed over her wrist; he's rising to his feet, slapping down bills for the bartender and pulling her along. "C'mon, we can grab a quick one in the back seat if that's your thing."

And as her leads her to the door, she sees her future oh so clearly. She doesn't want this. She wants him to let go, to let her breathe. She wants to wake up tomorrow without feeling dirty with shame. 'No!' Such a simple word, and it races through her mind like a caged animal, desperate for an outlet. Why does it always end like this? Why can't she muster the nerve to part her lips and speak?

The doors to the parking lot are so close now. Someone … please, anyone…

"¡Oye, cabrón! ¿Qué haces con mi amiga?"

The Spanish bark makes them both stop and swivel their heads at the interloper. Beli flushes red with embarrassment. It's Kyanna, and she's marching across the bar like a soldier on the warpath. The anger in her eyes is downright unsettling.

The man rolls his eyes wearily. Unlike Beli, he seems to understand Spanish, and dismisses Kyanna with a quick snap of the foreign language. "Quédate al margen, borracha," he snorts, but with a sly grin he adds, "¿a menos que quieres unirtenos?"

Kyanna recoils like she's about to vomit, but she doesn't back down. "¿Eres un puto pervetido, lo sabías?"

They trade Spanish barbs back and forth, and Beli can only stammer politely and wonder what they're saying. It all comes to a head when the man steps into Kyanna's face and swaps back to English.

"You think she even wants you here? I've been listening to her bellyache for the past hour about this bitch from her yoga class – a loud-mouthed lout who's been ruining her day and who can't take a hint about how much she wants her gone!"

Kyanna is rendered silent, eyes wide and astonished as she glances to her host. The light is gone from her violet eyes, but Beli still can't bear to meet them. She ducks her face in shame. Kyanna … I'm so sorry…

"So what if I'm loud?" Kyanna's voice startles Beli back to attention. The Latina is gritting her teeth and clenching her fist. "So what if I'm irritating and troublesome and just get in the way? She's still my friend, and I don't let my friends get carried off by some smooth-talking douche-bag who thinks he's king of the pump-'n-dump!"

Beli isn't the only one startled by Kyanna's intensity. She feels the vice-like hand around her wrist slip away, nervous from all the stares and attention Kyanna's shrill voice is attracting. The Latina makes her move – Beli gasps as a new arm sweeps around her shoulders and yanks her into Kyanna's side. The move is so quick and forceful that Beli loses her balance, catching a hand on Kyanna's chest to keep herself from falling.

"Ella es mi chica," she declares. "¡Así que lárgate!"

The man's eyes go wide like he's been shot in the gut. He scans Kyanna, then the gathering staff, then snorts and turns away, muttering a curse – "Malditas lesbianas," – as he storms off into the night.

Beli finally remembers to exhale.

"Fucking assholes…" Kyanna fumes, "think they can just strut around, take what they want and waltz off the next morning. God damn, I hate shitheads like that."

Kyanna holds her, powerful and secure, and though she's younger than Beli, this woman is suddenly radiating with ancient strength, a violet-eyed sun goddess. Her eyes burn with anger, but Beli doesn't feel afraid. Her heart beats rapidly, but securely, when Kyanna looks down on her and whispers,

"We should probably go."

Beli nods quickly, shivering from a sudden chill when she steps apart from Kyanna.


The car ride into town is long and filled with awkward silence. They leave the radio off, and it's so dark and still that Beli swears she's all alone on one of her driving trips to the suburban gyms. But every time the glow of a highway light sweeps through the car, she catches Kyanna - chin in her hand, a morose reflection on her face as she gazes off through the window.

"I'm sorry I messed up your day," she finally mumbles. "You had this big, fancy-pants gala planned and I came and wrecked your shit." Kyanna's eyes are puffy and ready to cry; Beli immediately jumps on damage control.

"No! No, not at all. It was umm, nice … nice to have the company."

"You don't have to lie," Kyanna sighs, "and you don't have to feel bad about not liking me. I get it, y'know. I'm not the easiest person to get along with. When I see shit I don't like, I call people out. When I get excited… well, I'm not exactly great at knowing when to shut my big, fat mouth."

Excited? "People don't exactly get excited about my yoga classes," Beli replies.

"Oh, the classes are fun and all, but you're the one I like hanging out with," Kyanna explains.

"Me?" Beli nearly swerves out of her lane, she's so startled. Kyanna doesn't seem to notice.

"Hells yeah," she continues, "I mean, you're always so chill and helpful, not to mention you're a single woman running her own business. That's pretty damn cool in my book."

Beli is flabbergasted. Her? Cool? "I guess I'm doing all right on my own," she stammers. She's never really thought of herself as a businesswoman. That's a title for doctors or pharmacists, or the lawyer her parents always insisted she become. Teaching yoga isn't a business, just a coward's way of disappointing her family, but … a businesswoman. It's got a certain ring to it.

"You're really too kind, Kyanna."

Her passenger chuckles in reply. "Glad I did one thing right today. Look, I won't come back to your classes anymore. Keep my cheque, I don't need a refund."

"No!" Beli blurts. "No, Kyanna, I'm sorry. I … I should have said something. I mean, I have trouble saying things. I mean –" Her head is pounding so she gets right to the point. "I… I'm glad you came today, because otherwise I'd be alone and miserable, and I don't know what kind of trouble I would have gone home with." A quick swallow. "And the classes, I want you to stay."

Her passenger nods her head, slowly and gratefully. "Thanks, Beli. I'd … like that a lot. It's just… I don't get a lot of chances to hang out with girls my age. I'm kind of the spring chicken at work, and all the daycare moms are in their forties."

Beli's ear pricks. "Daycare?"

"Yeah," Kyanna confirms after a long exhale. "I've got a little man at home. Name's Phillip. He'll be … six months, this week."

At the next red light, Kyanna takes out her phone and shows her the pictures of her red-cheeked cherub. Beli smiles. "He's adorable." Inside, her mind is performing mental backflips trying to calculate this woman's age. Kyanna, she's … twenty-one, twenty-two? And a mother?

"Got myself knocked up last year," she explains, as if sensing Beli's thoughts. "My bae, he said he'd promise me the moon, never let me go, but the minute he sees that line on the test stick, it's vamoose. 'Have fun taking care of my kid while I live the good life'."

Wait a second … "Six months? But you look amazing! How'd you lose that baby fat so fast?"

"Hey, the gym is pretty much my second home. Having to slow down my routine in that last trimester was a killer, but as soon as I could, I was back running and pumping irons. I just get to run my cardio with a carriage now."

Beli nods. "What's it like?"

Kyanna's eyes glaze over. "It's … strange, you know? He takes up so much of my time, day and night. You can't just do whatever you want anymore. Sometimes it's scary, having this little guy depend on you for everything. Makes me realize how much growing up I have to do. Of course, my mother's been a god-send, looking after my little man while I'm at work. She's the one who pushed me to come to your little party. Said I needed to do something for myself today."

She was never looking at shopping ads, or social media posts, Beli realizes. Kyanna was a vigilant mother hawk, even on her downtime.

Perhaps realizing how pessimistic she sounds, Kyanna quickly adds, "I'm not saying I'm regretting anything. I mean Philly, he's a total sweetheart but, if I'd been able to say 'no' back then… well, my life would've been a different story."

That tone stings at Beli. Kyanna speaks as though her story has already ended.

"Well, this is my stop."

Beli pulls the car over. Kyanna's neighbourhood is a cramped street with dingy, high-rise apartments, and she's hard pressed to find a patch of grass that isn't dry or overgrown with weeds. Even at this later hour, the neighbours are blasting loud music and yelling at one another. Beli doesn't mean to judge, but it's not the sort of neighbourhood she'd be comfortable spending too much time in. Kyanna steps out the door with sombre resignation before waving.

"Well… see you in class, I guess."

She turns away, into the night. Quickly, impulsively, Beli snaps off her seatbelt and bolts out the driver's side door.

"Kyanna, I …"

A list of farewells race through her mind: Thank you for watching out for me. Chin up, you're stronger than you think! I'm looking forward to our next lesson together.

But all of those carry a weight of finality.

"Are you hungry?"

The Latina blinks.

"I mean, those sandwiches, they weren't very big, were they? And we probably shouldn't go home on an empty stomach after all those drinks and –" She swallows. "Do you know any good restaurants?"

Kyanna's smile begins to build up again. "Bels, I know just the place."


The Taco Shack isn't exactly Beli's kind of dining establishment. It's ginchy as all get-out with silly road signs over the walls, brown butcher's paper rolled out as tablecloths, and because Kyanna lied about it being her birthday, now she's stuck wearing a tacky paper sombrero with an elastic string digging into her chin.

Then there's the food - the tortilla shell entrees fall apart faster than you can eat them; the grease and sauces drip down her fingers and smear all over her cheeks. It's sloppy, it's messy and it's completely undignified!

It's the most fun she's had in ages!

"Seriously, you've never had tacos before?" Kyanna asks through a mouthful of nachos.

"Do the grocery store kits count?"

"Ha! Not by a long shot, amiga. Okay – fish taco with guacamole, you gotta try this one with the hot sauce!"

There's so much more to Kyanna than what she originally saw, Beli realizes. Kyanna is courageous, marching through life with the odds stacked against her, and always coming out smiling. Kyanna is compassionate, always looking out for her family and for those around her.

Most of all, Kyanna is so enthusiastic! There's an infectious excitement in her laugh and in her smile that makes it okay to step out and try something weird and new. Even when her meal slips from her hands and leaves an obvious stain on her lap, she can laugh it off and toast to a day well spent.

"Hey, Beli? Thanks. This is the best Valentine's Day I've had in ages."

Beli nods and raises her glass. In her mind, she can't help but think forward – to the next time she'll see Kyanna, to the next activity they'll plan, and to all the wonderful ways her friend will fill the days with laughter and wonder.

A toast, but not to Valentine's. "Here's to us!" Beli declares. To the start of something wonderful.

Kyanna flashes a thrilling smile as she clinks her glass. "Chica, you know I'll drink to that!"

Part II of Beli and Kyanna's Story

I've been sitting on this story for a while, having originally drafted it for a holiday contest, but I finally found a way to fit it in with my previous one-shot. This is now the official start to Beli and Kyanna's story, which continues in 'Braving the Plunge'. Enjoy!

Special thanks to Azumarill Tank and :iconasfoxger: for helping me with Kyanna's Spanish phrases!  Be sure to check out Foxger's comics, including A Yurist's Closet, of which I've done some collaborations.

© 2017 - 2024 Cypher-DS
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AsFoxger's avatar
I helped! :D

The writing, great. The conflicts, awesome. And the conclusion, as Yurist as possible, which I love it! :) I listened to the official OST I bought in Steam as I was reading. The HuniePop ambience music works like a charm.

Changing subject: It's been a while without reading your stories, I honestly forgot about reading the story of Tiffany becoming a fairy (sorry), I've looked through your gallery and there was one story that was catching my attention more than the other one, that is the Bounty Hunter Escort. Since it seems that there's an alien (I won't mention the character's name in case someone didn't unlock all characters in the game) I believe that is heavily related to the sci-fi genre, correct? Because personally I'd like to read more of that story, mostly because one of my works is a sci-fi story, and I want to be more inspired by works related to that genre. Sure I can play Stellaris or Endless Space, but I'd like to be inspired that doesn't apply to videogames. xD

Take care, mate! :)