Persona Non Grata
Vera flicked the affirmation band at her wrist. It stung. The pain was good, made her stop thinking about Bridget Westfall for 2 seconds.
Bridget Westfall and her infuriatingly calm voice that soothed Vera when she didn't want to be soothed. Bridget Westfall's exasperatingly beautiful smile which she turned on Vera, filling her with confidence she had no right to.
Bridget was taken. Bridget would never look at her twice. Vera is plain and awkward and no fun. Franky is everything Vera is not.
She remembered them standing on the porch, gazing at each other. No one had ever looked at her that way. When their foreheads pressed together Vera's heart actually hurt. It hurt to see them, to know she would never have that.
She snapped the band again. Harder. Her skin tingled unpleasantly.
Bridget is her friend. Bridget knows more about her than anyone. From Ferguson's true colours to her mother's death… her fears and weaknesses. All without judgement. Bridget is the only person who has time for her, who she can really talk to, trust, who understands…
But she goes home to Franky, she doesn't lie awake at night dreaming about kissing Vera. She doesn't imagine having illicit trysts in Vera's office. Doesn't fantasize about Vera knocking the papers off her desk, throwing Bridget down and doing sensual things to her with her tongue…
No. Westfall has someone to hold, someone to share her life with. Someone that is not Vera.
She yanked on the band again. Too forcefully - it snapped. Vera looked down, her wrist is red raw and the broken elastic band lies limp on the floor.
She sighed and picked it up.
There was a knock on her door and Bridget entered. The blonde smiled her maddeningly beautiful smile and brushed a strand of unwieldy golden hair behind her ear and Vera's breath stopped. Her heart raced and she felt dizzy with the bitter taste of unrequited longing in her mouth.
She doesn't want to want this. Her feelings for Bridget are unexpected and unwelcome. She doesn't wish to spend her life pining for things out of her reach.
Bridget sensed something was wrong. "Are you okay?" she asked.
There was genuine concern in her face and for a moment Vera was happy, so happy at this proof of feeling. But Bridget is kind, to everyone. It is nothing more. The surge of happiness fizzles away.
Vera forced a smile. "Fine," she lied because what else can she say? She can't say I think about you all the time. I enjoy spending time with you. I think you're beautiful. You make me happy. I think I might love you.
No. She would stay silent; that was best. She refused to be humiliated. Refused to put herself out on a limb. Refused to risk Bridget's rejection.
Still concerned, Bridget moved nearer.
Vera panicked. The last thing she needed was Bridget's empathy or undivided attention. She stood abruptly.
Bridget leaned against the desk and Vera tried to retain an impartial expression.
The blonde saw the broken affirmation band, pulled a rubber band from her pocket and offered it to Vera.
Vera glanced at it, then took it. Her fingers accidentally grazed Bridget's palm and a shiver ran through her and oh shit. She can't do this. Can't keep up the facade. She's exhausted from all the time spent at Ferguson's side; all the double-dealing and pretence and self-doubt had been gruelling.
"Ready?" Bridget said gently.
Vera nodded dumbly. She stepped out from behind her desk and moved towards the door, Bridget at her side. She put her hand on the doorknob and looked at Bridget.
"Thank you," she said softly. For everything, she didn't add.
Bridget smiled warmly.
Vera pulled the door open and they stepped through.