A/N: another piece found on my computer. i wrote this almost one year ago to the day, when a close colleague submitted her resignation letter. it's not perfect, but it's complete. #finishwhatyoustart
Something More
"Wow, that's fascinating. I can't imagine life without my two brothers, but then again, there were definitely times I wished I was an only child," he said.
"Yeah, well," Andrea took another sip of her wine. "It's both a blessing and a curse."
"How so? I would think it's every girl's dream to be the center of everyone's attention," he said with a wink.
Andrea giggled—an effect of the wine. "Christian, it's not like that. I mean, that's great sometimes, but it's like I expect that all the time, from everyone. I suck at friendships, and I'm even worse at relationships."
"Hey, at least give me a chance. I'm not cook boy."
"I didn't mean it like that," she said, staring into her empty wine glass. "It's just really lonely."
"Well, mon cherie, I can't let you be lonely on my watch," Christian said, reaching over and taking her hand. "Let's get out of here."
The next day, after an uncomfortable silence on the ride back from the luncheon, Andrea watched as the editor softened before her eyes. She watched as the woman relaxed into the cool leather seat and let her shoulders slouch (just a little). She watched her lean her head back against the headrest, even though it would flatten her hair, and for the first time in ten months, she saw Miranda stifle a yawn.
"Miranda—"
"Andrea—" Miranda smiled and turned her head to the side to look at the young woman. "You first," she said.
Andrea blushed. "I was going to ask if you'd like me to push back your afternoon meeting with Balmain and schedule a spa treatment at the hotel."
"That sounds wonderful, but I am afraid I can't afford to miss this meeting." After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. "Andrea, I see a great deal of myself in you."
With those words, Andrea's mind came to a screeching halt. She was nothing like Miranda. She was still kind and generous and honest. She still believed that people are inherently good and that the world makes people act unethically.
She didn't even hear the rest of Miranda's words. She closed her eyes and gripped the seat as she tried rather unsuccessfully to calm her breathing. It wasn't until the car came to a stop that she opened her eyes.
"I—I—" she stammered.
"What is it?" Miranda hissed, sufficiently annoyed. She leaned back against the seat and motioned for the driver to stay inside the car. "Andrea, speak up."
"I—I can't…I can't do it. I just can't. I can't keep this up."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Miranda asked.
"I'm sorry. I just can't do this. I need to get out of here. I need to go back to New York, away from all this," Andrea rambled.
Miranda reached over and placed her hands on the young woman's forearms. "Andrea, listen," she said firmly. The softness was gone from her voice and Andrea couldn't help but do as the woman said. "We are a few minutes early. The driver can circle the block, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you, but I cannot have you"—she waved her hand in a circle in the air—"during Paris Fashion Week. You need to pull it together. Do you understand me?"
Andrea nodded and pulled her hand away to wipe the tears from her eyes. Once the car pulled into traffic, she took a deep breath and looked at Miranda.
"I'm so sorry, Miranda. This job—this life—it's just not for me. Between Nigel and Emily and Jacqueline, and all the manipulation with Irv and the Board—it's just not me. I'm a simple girl. I like reading Victorian novels and volunteering at local shelters. I want to expose schemes and write stories about great injustices in the corporate world—not have a front row seat to them. Am I even making any sense?"
"You are," Miranda said as she nodded. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I know exactly how you feel. I was at that point once in my life, many years ago."
"Really?"
"Yes. It was the early 1980s, and it was practically unheard of for a female to earn a position in a corporation without sleeping with the boss. It was against everything I was raised to believe about people and women and working hard—and yet, everyone was doing it, so did that make it okay? I get it. It's tough."
"Can I ask what you decided to do?"
Miranda clasped her hands in her lap and bit her lip. "I am not proud of my choice, Andrea. But because I was never proud of that, I worked even harder to get where I wanted to be. I felt that I had to work twice as hard to prove that I actually belonged. In the long term, I guess it paid off. I am glad to see things progressing for women in the workplace, though."
"I'm not like you," Andrea said, her voice shaky.
"I know, I know. I apologize for that comparison. You are smart and talented and focused and—I honestly hadn't thought about how difficult this position could be for a young woman."
"I don't want your sympathy, Miranda. I applied and accepted the role."
Miranda rolled her eyes. "It's not sympathy. Honey, I'm proud of you. Most young women in your position don't have the courage to stand up for their values like that, to walk away from an opportunity just because it's not right."
Andrea doesn't respond, but at hearing Miranda's words, she cannot hold back her tears.
"Oh, come here," Miranda said, the softness once again present in her voice. She wrapped her arm around Andrea's shoulders and pulled her closer, gently pressing a kiss to the top of her head, just as she had done countless times to her daughters. "I want you to know that you are under no obligation to stay at Runway. If you need to leave, I understand, and will hold my word that I will find you another position in the career of your choice. If you'd rather switch departments here, I can find something like that, too. Okay? I just need you to pull it together for the rest of this trip."
"I don't know. I don't want to give up," Andrea said, sniffling. "I won't be able to afford my rent without a paycheck." She began crying again.
The editor gently rubbed her shoulders. "Shh, it'll be okay. You don't have to decide right now. Look, I'm going to go to the meeting with Balmain. Paul will drive you back to the hotel. Make yourself some tea, take a shower, change into something comfortable, and we'll talk when I return this evening. I'll give you the afternoon to compose yourself."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Miranda said as the car came to a stop once again in front of the building entrance. "I have to go. I'll expect to see you later."
"Yes. And Miranda—thank you."
The editor nodded sharply before putting her sunglasses on and exiting the vehicle.
That evening, Andrea was surprised when she heard a knock at her door. It seemed like she had just sat down to refresh her resume and look at job postings, but a quick glance at the clock proved it was nearly midnight.
"Andrea," Miranda said with a tired smile. "May I come in?"
Andrea nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind the editor. "Look, about this afternoon, I'm really sorry—"
"We won't speak of it. Every woman has her moments and I trust you have regained your composure. Have you had any time to give thought to your future?"
Andrea sat at the edge of her bed, gesturing for Miranda to take the armchair. "I think I want to leave," she said nervously. "It's not that I don't like Runway, because I do, and I've learned so much respect for you and your team and everyone in the industry that contributes. It's just—I want to write. I want it to be meaningful to my existence as a human being on this earth. I know that probably sounds crazy, but I think I just need to be that starry-eyed, rose-colored-glasses fledgling reporter for a while. I'm not ready to be jaded just yet," she added with a half-smile. "Do you hate me now?"
At that, Miranda laughed out loud. "Goodness, no. What ever would make you think that?" she said. "I think that is a very respectable decision you've made. Do I want to tell you that the bulk of your job will be administrative duties and lowly assignments in the suburbs? Of course. But I also know that you need to discover this for yourself and come to your own conclusions. So, I will support you however you need in that regard."
"Thank you, Miranda. I really appreciate it," she said. "It's a relief to know I don't have to sleep with the boss, you know?"
Miranda raised an eyebrow and gave Andrea a questioning glare.
"Ah! No! Sorry, that came out wrong!"
"Why, am I so…unattractive?" Miranda asked with a smirk.
"No, I'm sorry. I just meant it's a relief to…well, you know. Sorry, I should keep my mouth shut."
"Andrea, I don't know what it is about you that makes me smile. You realize how uncommon that is, don't you?" Miranda said.
"Actually, it's a little scary," Andrea said.
"You have nothing to be scared of," she said, standing up from her chair. "But it is late, and we have an early flight back in the morning. We'll talk more in New York, as I also want to introduce you to my husb—to Stephen's—niece who's a writer at Slate."
"Okay. Thank you."
Once they returned to New York, neither woman spoke of the conversation that afternoon. With Emily on crutches, Andrea was busier than ever, adding all of the first assistant's errands to her own.
Late one evening, when most of the other employees had gone for the weekend, Miranda quietly called Andrea into her office.
"Yes, Miranda?" she asked, standing with her notebook and pencil in hand.
Miranda looked up from her computer screen and noted that the young woman had exchanged her stilettos for flats, which, given the late hour, was not entirely unacceptable.
"If you're interested, there's a black pair in your size in the Closet," Andrea said.
Miranda smiled and met the young woman's eyes. "Yes, I think that would be acceptable. But first, have a seat." Miranda took the next half hour to discuss options for Andrea's future. She began with the different types of positions that exist at Runway, then suggested Andrea research some New York publications and browse their online job boards.
"Oh, um, sure," Andrea said, scratching a note on her pad. "I just—never mind."
Miranda stood from her desk and stepped out of her heels before walking around to the other side of the desk. "What were you going to say?"
"I thought that you were going to find me something," she said quietly. "But it looks like I'm back to the job hunting on my own."
"Andrea, I hate to break it to you, but I have more important things to do than find you a job. I have a magazine to run. However, I will remain true to my word, I just need your help. It will do me no good to call over to Richard at the Times and ask him to hire you if it's not something you're interested in. Does that make sense?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I guess it's just overwhelming. It was so hard to find something before…"
The editor took a seat next to the young assistant and gently placed her hand on the woman's knee. "I know. And I apologize, I did not intend to overwhelm you. We will work together on this, okay? You will look through open positions this weekend and bring me any of the ones you are interested in. We can talk again next week, and I'll see who I know at those publications."
Andrea nodded slowly. "And what if there aren't—what if the only positions that are posted are crap like Auto Universe?"
Miranda laughed. "Auto Universe? Oh, do be serious, Andrea."
"I am! That's where HR tried to send me when I first came to Elias-Clarke."
"Are you serious? Good god, if that's how our Human Resources department positions a career at a premier fashion magazine, it's no wonder I am surrounded by such incompetence!"
Andrea just shrugged. "Yeah, I can't imagine when that would have come up in conversation."
"Well, listen, you spend this weekend looking through available positions. If you don't see something you like, we can talk more. There is no doubt a handful of unposted positions that I may have access to internally if I make a few calls. But let's start there. Will that work for you?"
"Yes, thank you, Miranda," she said with a smile. "Um, so I'll go get the new Tod's for you now."
When Andrea returned, she already had her bag and coat. She slipped into the luxurious leather flats and smiled as she wiggled her toes in sheer comfort.
"Is there anything else?" Andrea asked.
"Yes. How are you doing otherwise? We haven't really spoken since we returned."
"To be honest, we never really spoke before either. Um, but yes, I am doing well. My boyfriend finally moved the last of his boxes out of our—well, my—apartment, so I have a lot more space now," she chuckled nervously.
"And I imagine you need that space for all the clothes you brought back from Paris, no?"
"Oh, no. I brought almost everything back in Emily's size. She hasn't been able to wear anything yet because of her cast."
Miranda stared at the young woman for several seconds. "That should surprise me, but it doesn't. And I think that's because you are so genuinely warm and generous." A few seconds later, she continued, "Are you heading out? I can give you a ride home if you'd like."
"No, I am going to stay here and finish up some things. Thank you. Oh, and have a good weekend."
"You as well, Andrea."
Over the next several weeks, Andrea eagerly scoured the online job boards and made a list of potential positions. Miranda gave her some tips for her resume and portfolio, and she even had a few interviews.
After meeting with Miranda's niece at Slate, she decided she wanted to work for more of a traditional news publication, so that helped her narrow down her search. Andrea and Miranda spent most evenings quietly chatting in her office as each worked on her own thing. Most nights, they ordered dinner. Sometimes, they would get so deep in conversation that they spent hours just chatting without doing any work.
Andrea loved it, but she was too afraid to mention anything. She feared Miranda would become self-conscious and they'd lose the rapport they had.
One evening, they were both sitting on the couch in the editor's office having a cup of tea when Miranda turned and said, "When you're working for some other editor, I would really like to stay in touch with you, Andrea. I know I will be able to follow your professional career by checking your by-lines, but I have really come to enjoy your company."
"Oh, yeah, me too. I mean, I like chatting with you after work. I'll kind of miss this," Andrea said.
"We will figure something out," Miranda said.
The following week, Andrea had two more interviews, and The New York Mirror called her back for a final interview the week after that. Miranda had already spoken with Gregg, the Editor in Chief of The Mirror, and she knew this interview was just part of the process. Miranda and Gregg mutually agreed that the young woman's start date would be three weeks from Friday, provided she accepts the position.
"So, how did it go?" Miranda asked as she handed the young woman a glass of sparkling wine.
"Well, they made me an offer. So, I guess it went well," she said, smiling.
"Andrea, that's wonderful, congratulations!" she said, softly clinking glasses with the young woman.
"Yeah, I guess I'm just not sure what I should do."
Miranda nearly spit out her wine. "Wait, what do you mean? You haven't accepted?"
"No, I told him I would get back to him tomorrow morning," she said. "I mean, I don't even know what I'm looking at with the base salary and performance-based incentives and health benefits—I just, I don't know if I'll be able to make it."
"Do you mind me asking what they offered?"
"Oh, sure," she said, pulling up the offer letter on her screen and handing her laptop to the editor.
"Andrea, you realize this is approximately 20% more than you are making here? The benefits are nearly identical as well."
"I know, I can do the math," she snapped. "Sorry. I mean, I know that. It's just, some of the other 'perks' that come with this job—mostly clothes and food—are two expenses that I will have again. I will just barely be able to afford my rent, and I won't have any opportunity to save money and get a better place."
Miranda set the computer down on the small table along with their wine glasses. She reached over and took Andrea's hands.
"Honey, this is a great offer. This is better than what most journalists will get for an entry-level position. As a friend and mentor, I am telling you that this is a great opportunity for you and you should take it."
"A—a friend?"
"That's what you extract from that?" Miranda said, rolling her eyes.
"I'm serious, you really consider me a friend?"
"Yes. I've told you that before. I look forward to our staying in touch when you no longer work right outside my office."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I find that very hard to believe," Andrea said.
"It's not as if there is a right way to take that. You think me incapable of having a friend, don't you?"
"No! Just—that it's me. I'm not a celebrity or socialite or fashion person. It just doesn't make sense."
"Don't be absurd. You are a superb human being, and you are kind and generous and intelligent and witty and I generally enjoy your company and your friendship, so just let it be."
Andrea rolled her eyes and reached back for her wine glass.
"Fine. I am accepting the position. My last day here will be Thursday the 29th."
On Andrea's last day, several of her coworkers took her out for a drink after work. One drink led to another, and with Miranda out of town with the girls at their grandparents' place, the rest of the staff took the opportunity to let go a little, too. While everyone—including Emily—was congratulating her on the new career as a journalist, the remarks about how she was "Miranda's favorite" were too bittersweet. She hadn't seen Miranda since Tuesday afternoon, and she was supposed to be back in the office the morning of Andrea's last day. Because of that they hadn't said their official goodbyes, but one of the girls had a minor allergic reaction and Miranda stayed with them in Tampa for another day.
When the bar started turning lights on to indicate last call, Andrea knew it was time to leave. She hurried out and miraculously hailed a cab, then pulled out her phone—her phone, not the company phone. She had sent Miranda her new contact info earlier in the day, and part of her was hoping to see a text message from Miranda. Seeing no messages, she decided to reach out first. They were "friends," she justified, so this was not at all an inappropriate drunk text choice.
Miranda, it's Andy, my new number. I am on my way home from my little impromptu going away party and i just wanted to say i missed you. i am going to miss you a lot in the next few weeks—it's going to suck. In addition to having a new job and new people, i'm also losing you. i guess this is goodbye. xo
Less than thirty seconds later, she received a reply: Have your driver bring you to the townhouse. -M
Why? I'm confused. I left my key at the office with my phone.
I'll explain. Just come here. -M
I thought you were in Tampa b/c of Caro's bee sting?
Caroline is okay. I am home. -M
Isn't it kind of late?
Andrea was waiting for a response when suddenly her phone rang. "Hello?"
"Andrea. Where are you?" Miranda said softly.
"In a cab. There's traffic, so I'm on 48th by…um…"
"Never mind. Just give the cab driver my address, 41 East 70th."
"Okay, hold on," Andrea said. Miranda could overhear her giving the driver the new destination. "Alright. Ten minutes. You're home right? You will let me in?"
"Yes, of course. I am here to let you in," Miranda said.
"Good. I really have to pee."
"Have you been out all evening?"
"Sort of. We left the office a little early at 4—oh shit, I wasn't supposed to tell you that." She heard Miranda chuckling. "Anyway, we went to Barrel, then headed over to Oak & Rush. Have you ever had their sage pink lemonade? It's soooooo good," Andrea said.
"I have not. I will have to try it sometime. I'm glad you and everyone else were able to have some fun. Are you tired?"
"No, not at all, why? Oh gosh, it's late. And I probably woke you up! I'm so sorry. Oh, Miranda, I'm just going to go home. It's too late."
"Don't be ridiculous, I am obviously awake. And you are five minutes away and need to use the bathroom, so obviously you will come inside."
"Okay," she said. "Miranda?"
"Hmm?" the editor's voice was soft and thick, reverberating through the line.
"I'm excited to see you."
"And I you, darling."
Andrea couldn't help but smile as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the majestic steps. Miranda descended the stairs in her silk robe and slippers, handing the driver a crisp $100 bill as she linked her arm with Andrea's.
"Miranda, hi!" she said, wavering in her heels.
"Hello. Why don't you take those heels off?" she suggested.
"Straps. Too hard to unbuckle."
"Ah, of course. Zannotti really should build a quick-release into the shoe somewhere," Miranda added as she led Andrea up the stairs.
"OMG, he should!" Andrea exclaimed, stopping mid-way up the stairs. "Mir, you are so smart! Can you tell him? Will he do it?"
Miranda laughed and guided Andrea up the last few steps and into the house. "I will most certainly mention it to him the next time we speak," she added as Andrea hurried to the bathroom.
When she emerged, she tossed her heels on the mat by the front door and headed towards the kitchen where Miranda was brewing some peppermint tea.
"I'm really glad I got to see you today," Andrea said.
"Well, I am glad, too. You look lovely in this little dress," Miranda said with a tired smile. She finished preparing two cups of tea and carried them to the sitting room. The two women sat in silence for a few moments, just watching each other.
"I spent a long time preparing what I was going to say to you today," Andrea began. "I was going to slip into your office after your 10:30 and before your lunch, and officially say goodbye."
"Now, we talked about this—"
"Stop interrupting me. Please. Please," she said, her voice softening as tears welled in her eyes. "Miranda, I am going to miss you. I'm going to miss the ridiculous things that come out of your mouth, the way everyone scurries around you, the relaxed look you have each night when you're ready to leave. I am going to miss that. I know you say we will still be friends, but, you should have seen me when you emailed that you would be taking a later flight."
"Andrea, do not be ridiculous. You're not thinking straight—perhaps we should have this conversation in the morning. You will stay upstairs tonight. Come on, I'll gather a few towels and something for you to sleep in," she said, standing and making her way to the stairs.
Andrea sat motionless in her chair. Her mind was working a mile a minute. What she wanted, quite possibly more than anything, was to be closer to Miranda. She wanted that intimate connection. Physical touch—not necessarily sexual, but she couldn't deny her intrigue.
"I have two types of cleanser—wipes and an exfoliating scrub. Your skin seems fairly sensitive, so I would imagine the wipes would be more gentle, but I'll leave both out," Miranda called from the hall closet on the second floor. "Are you coming?"
Without saying a word, Andrea set down her tea cup and followed Miranda's voice upstairs.
"There you are," she said. "Everything is set here. This guest room has an ensuite—it's actually a jack-and-jill with my study, but I have a bookcase in front of the door. So, you will have your privacy." She looked around at everything else in the room. "There's a hanger on the back of the bathroom door for your dress, and I put a few bottles of water and some aspirin on the nightstand if you should need it. Phone charger is part of the alarm clock, so that should work just fine."
"Are you going to the office in the morning?" Andrea asked.
Miranda thought for a moment. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering if I'd be able to finish my conversation from earlier," she said, rolling her eyes.
"What? We were through."
"No, we weren't. You interrupted and changed the subject. You always do this. When I was working for you—which, coincidentally, my employment ended about three hours ago—I attributed it to the fact that I was your assistant, so it was part of my job to listen to your stories, your complaints, to focus on you and you alone. I get it," she said. "And I think I did that really really well. It's just this friendship thing, I guess I thought there'd be more balance, that you would listen to me for a change."
Miranda rolled her eyes. "Andrea, please. Of course I listen to you."
"No, you don't, not completely. Just earlier you got up and walked upstairs in the middle of our conversation. You totally changed the subject."
"I did not," Miranda insisted. "You were finished."
"I definitely wasn't. I need quiet time, silence—I don't speak quickly and I thought maybe you could be someone to share that silence with me. But it's not fair to you—I realize that. I am imposing unrealistic expectations on our relationship. It's selfish of me to ask so much of you, I get that. I just have no one else," she cried, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.
"Andrea, please—" Miranda said resting her forehead against the door.
"No. It's just too much. I have too much to do right now. I can't think straight, I can't focus. I am terrified that I won't be good enough for The Mirror, that everyone will say I only got the job because of you. I've done nothing to deserve this. I can't do it. I don't even know what to say or think anymore. I just hate everything about my life so much," she cried.
"Andrea, sweetheart, listen," Miranda said. "Take a shower, take a few deep breaths. We will continue this discussion, I promise you."
Miranda heard the shower turn on, so she made her way to the other side of the room and sat in the armchair. When the young woman emerged in a cotton nightshirt and her hair wrapped up in a towel, Miranda smiled.
"I'm sorry—I just can't do this!" Andrea cried, flinging herself onto the bed and curling up into a ball.
Miranda walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, gently stroking the young woman's back. "Andrea, I apologize if I am taking this too far, but I care about your well-being, and, have you ever seen a therapist?"
Andrea's eyes widened and she sat up slightly.
"I only ask because last year Cassidy was struggling with some pressures at school and her counselor recommended a therapist. Initially, I took offense that he was labeling my daughter as crazy, but I realized there are some things she just couldn't tell me. Or, maybe she was telling me, but I didn't recognize them. I didn't know how to help her."
"I saw one in college once. I know I have issues. I'm anxious, and I know I'm a perfectionist, and I know it's unhealthy. I know I ruminate. I can usually handle it. I just—never mind," Andrea said.
"Okay, but you shouldn't have to struggle. Cassidy only saw her therapist for a few months. He gave her medication, but she's only ever needed to take it once. It might help."
"It's not about fucking therapy. I don't mind that—I would go if it wasn't so expensive. It's just—forget it."
"Okay. It's been a long day," Miranda smiled, remembering that the young woman was still probably more than a little drunk. She lifted the comforter for Andrea to crawl in. "Why don't you get some rest. I will be here in the morning, and you can continue this conversation and tell me whatever you were going to say when you said 'never mind' and 'forget it,' okay?"
Andrea began to protest, but the pillow was too soft and her head too heavy and Miranda's smile too bright. "Okay."
Miranda turned out the light and pulled the door shut before heading to her own bedroom. She imagined that once the effects of the alcohol wore off, Andrea would calm down.
The next morning, Miranda was sitting at the breakfast bar reading through her emails and sipping her coffee when Andrea came downstairs in a pair of ankle-length yoga pants, her face clean and makeup-free.
"Good morning," Miranda said, smiling and closing her laptop. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please." The brunette accepted the cup of coffee and took several long sips before taking a seat on the barstool next to Miranda. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry I couldn't keep it together," she said.
"Andrea, please do not apologize," she said. "It is I who should be apologizing to you. I don't always know what to say to you, and I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing, so sometimes I just change the subject."
"I just feel like I am such a burden on you. Like you're only talking to me because you feel obligated, and like there is a lot of better stuff you could be doing with your time—better people you could be spending time talking to."
"You need to stop thinking that I don't want to be friends with you. I like you, Andrea Sachs. You are witty and generous and smart, and I would like to be friends with you for many years to come. What do you need from me to know that I am serious?" Miranda asked.
Andrea shrugged and got up from her stool, walking over to the window. She was struggling to keep her tears from falling. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? Miranda said she wanted to be friends. But still, it felt like she needed something more.
"Andrea," Miranda said softly. She was standing directly behind the young woman now. "Andrea, can I touch you? Do you mind?" she said as she tentatively placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders.
Andrea flinched, then relaxed and nodded. "Yes, go ahead." It was in that moment that she realized what she had been missing—Miranda's touch. She wanted the woman's arms around her more than anything.
Miranda gently kneaded the young woman's shoulders before sliding her hands down her arms, reaching for her hands. Andrea squeezed the woman's hands and turned around, linking her own arms around Miranda's waist.
They stared into one another's eyes for a while, and for the first time, Miranda recognized the desire in the young woman's gaze. After taking a few moments to process, she quickly realized she, too, had been holding back her own feelings. But now, with Andrea officially employed by another publication and both of them officially single, she decided to make a move.
Miranda reached up and softly brushed Andrea's cheek while she pulled Andrea closer with her other hand, still firmly planted at the young woman's lower back. "Andrea, I—"
The young woman reached up and took Miranda's face in her hands. "I really want to kiss you right now. Would that be acceptable?" she whispered, her lips an inch away.
Miranda nodded and crushed their lips together. This was more than okay.
The end. Please let me know what you think! :X