The dog park is supposed to be a good place to meet people. Everyone told me the same—my parents, sister, bestie, and anyone else who’s heard me gripe about how hard it is to make friends in Los Angeles.

“Be bold and get out there!” they all said.

Well, my disaster of a dog is rolling around on a dead fish, and I don’t know who’s going to talk to me when my supposed conversation starter is covered in decayed salmon.

“Moose, no! Come here.” I race down the beach, heat rising in my face.

He’s led three other dogs to the jackpot and they’re all rubbing their chests in it. Their owners race over, shouting and cursing. We become a tangle of limbs as we try to catch our pets.

“Sorry,” I stammer. “I’m so sorry. He’s a hound mix… when he catches a scent he’s relentless…”

“No worries,” a guy grumbles, his tone saying otherwise as Moose knocks him sideways.

Ugh, I should give up hope of making friends or finding a girlfriend in the city. I can’t believe I put on makeup for this.

I lunge for Moose, who thinks I’m playing and jumps up. He plants two muddy paws on my chest.

“Get off! You smell like hot garbage.”

He barks and zooms in a wide circle, apparently thrilled by all of this chaos. Other dogs follow him until the park is a furry vortex.

Okay, my dog is officially a terror and I can never show my face here again.

With a huff, I take off my flannel shirt and tie it around my waist. The clear spring morning is chilly, but a t-shirt is better than standing here with muddy paw prints on my boobs. I gather my blond locks into a messy ponytail, giving up on looking nice.

Someone shouts behind me. An English bulldog with an underbite trundles toward the fish, and across the muddy field near the park entrance, his owner sprints toward us, arms waving.

They’ll never make it in time to stop the bulldog.

Not wanting anyone else to suffer as I have, I grab the chonky pup before he lands on the fish, scooping him up like a football. I hold him, trying to keep other dogs back with my knees, while his owner catches up, panting.

“Good snag. I thought I’d have to go to work smelling like a dead fish.”

I hand over the squirming bulldog, and I lift my gaze to a pair of light brown eyes. My heart stutters.

“My—my pleasure,” I say, lips tingling. “I already smell like a dead fish, so…”

Smooth, Meg.

The bulldog’s owner takes him from me and sets him down away from the offending fish. “I’m Ava. They/she.”

“Meg,” I say. “She/her.”

Wow, an introduction! That’s the closest I’ve come to making a friend at a dog park. Okay, time to retreat in shame and never come back.

Except…

A couple of inches taller than me, Ava traces their gaze over me in a way that makes my belly flutter. They’re rocking a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, relaxed-fit jeans, and a bold leather watch. Their dark hair is buzzed on the sides and wavy on top, perfectly styled. The contrast of their feminine makeup and masculine clothing makes my knees weak. Is it suddenly hot out here?

“I-I was just going to head home and give my dog a bath,” I say.

Moose barks, demanding my attention. I peel my gaze from Ava to find him chest-deep in the waves, wanting to play fetch.

“I think your dog has other plans,” Ava says with a cute twist of their lips. Their voice tingles pleasantly in my ears, smooth and calming.

Flushed, I find the nearest stick and chuck it into the water. Moose and several other dogs chase it, and Ava’s bulldog lumbers after them.

“I guess the salt water will help clean him off,” I say begrudgingly.

“It’s happened before at this park,” Ava says, glancing at the dead salmon. “A bit unavoidable on the beach.”

I grimace at the yapping vortex. “All dog parks are so out of control. I kind of hate them because you never know who or what you’ll find.”

Moose runs back and drops the stick on my shoes. I throw it again.

“You hate dog parks?” Ava says.

“I mean—no—I love dogs. And parks. But I’d rather go somewhere more controlled and… predictable…” I shut my mouth before I say something else that comes out wrong.

Ava shrugs. “I like the chaos. It’s exciting.”

A breeze wafts the fish smell in our direction, triggering my gag reflex. “Should we, um, move away from…?”

“Yeah.”

We shuffle sideways a few paces.

“I would just rather not get muddy and frazzled before work,” I say, trying to redeem myself so I don’t come off as a fun-hater.

“Is that why you moved to the city? Work?” Ava says.

“How’d you know I moved to the city?”

“I come to this park every morning and have never seen you here. Also, the patch on your backpack tells me you went to high school in the burbs.”

I automatically glance at the patch. The Wildcats. My high school volleyball team. “Perceptive.”

“I’m a detective.”

“Really?”

“No.”

I laugh. Cute.

The bulldog returns to Ava and sits, leaning against their calf.

Ava rubs his ear. “Good boy, Pretzel. Go play a bit.”

“Pretzel,” I echo, putting a hand over my heart.

Ava flashes a stunning smile. “My six-year-old nephew came up with it.”

Moose races up, and after a year with him, I know him well enough to read his body language: he is about to greet Ava with all four paws and a tongue.

“Don’t!” I shout, diving between them.

Pretzel yips and scoots away.

I grab Moose around the middle and knock him aside, which he takes as permission to roughhouse. He comes back at me with a vengeance, front paws batting, haunches tucking under him for a burst of speed.

Ugh, the indignity of fending off my own dog like this.

There’s mud on my boobs again, and I’ve run out of layers to shed. I’m never returning here.

“Go bug the other dogs!” I say, stumbling as I try to stop him from ruining Ava’s clothes.

“Another good save—oops!” Ava catches me around the waist and holds me upright, saving me from toppling into mud that’s had god-knows-what in it.

“Thanks,” I say, panting.

Their breath tickles my lips. My pulse races at the closeness. Their arms are warm and strong around me, and I have the ridiculous urge to just stay like this. They smell like lavender, which is blissful after suffering through a whiff of Moose a moment ago.

A husky bounds over, and Moose diverts his attention to his new friend. How come he’s having such an easy time making friends and I’m over here drowning in awkwardness?

Ava lets go of me and steps back. If I’m not mistaken, they look a little flustered. Was it the unintentional embrace or are they upset that I got mud on them?

“What job brought you here?” they say.

“I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Ava grins, their smile contagious. “Walked into that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.” I try not to stare, but god, Ava’s cute.

~

Part 2 coming tomorrow! Read the full story right now on “Sweet & Spicy Sapphic Stories” at patreon.com/tianawarner. Plus you’ll get early access to next week’s story (which is gonna be spicy!).