Thanks so much for the comments, you guys. I know this isn't a terribly original idea, but every writer has to take a shot at what she wants to write, right? This is an exercise in something different for me, and it's been fun. I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't, that's cool, too.
As always, let me know what you think!
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4:12. 4:13. 4:14. 4:15. Maura stared at the clock glowing on her nightstand. She picked up her phone, which she'd left facedown on her stomach. No messages. Not that there should be any messages at 4:15 am, but she hoped Jane would have responded to her earlier missives. She'd sent a quick, "Hey," text message a few hours after Jane left, hoping that Jane would be on her couch, a couple of beers down, enjoying the Red Sox and their winning streak – and that she'd be willing to talk. But Maura had gotten no response. She'd tried again with a "What did Cavanaugh say?" hoping that maybe a work question would entice Jane to respond. But, she got nothing.
Now it was nearly time to get up. Well, if she and Jane were going for a run she'd have to be ready in a few hours. But were they going for their regular run? Maura had replayed the incident from last night over and over in her head. It wasn't really that big of a deal, was it? Just a neck nuzzle. It wasn't like she'd even kissed Jane's neck. Not really. Just a graze. It wasn't something she'd even thought about doing before she did it – it felt so natural. It was more like, how could she not have done it? Surely Jane could understand that. Surely something so pure of intention, something so simple, wouldn't create a huge barricade between them… right?
But then Maura replayed Jane's reaction over and over again in her head. Jane's hand flying up to her neck as if Maura had bitten her. Her eyes so wide, her mouth working to speak, but saying nothing. Obviously, to Jane, the so-natural-it-just-happened neck thing didn't seem like a simple response to a tired, end of the day hug. Obviously, Jane was surprised. Surprised and… Maura shuddered to think what else. Had those huge eyes been angry? Maura had never seen Jane flee a scene like she did when she bolted from the kitchen. There was even a little black scuff mark on the floor from Jane's boot stumbling out the front door.
4:31. 4:32. 4:33. 4:44. Maura closed her eyes, her hand still gripping her phone. It wasn't even a kiss. It wasn't more than their usual hand grabs or butt slaps or shoulder nudges. It wasn't anything. But if it wasn't anything, why was she still awake? Why hadn't Jane texted back? Maura groaned and flipped over on her stomach. She pulled a pillow over her head. Because it was something. She knew it was something. She knew it from the warm feeling that had overcome her body when her face made contact with Jane's neck. She knew it from the fact that she hadn't stopped thinking about it for nearly nine hours. She knew it from the look on Jane's face. From that nearly imperceptible shift in Jane's posture when Maura's lips committed their treachery. Jane had stilled at first. Had almost melted, really. But then just as quickly, her defenses were up. And she was gone.
Maura pressed the pillow over her head. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. Not just what had happened earlier, but the whole thing – the whole tangle of confusing feelings she had for Jane. They had been friends once, just friends. Then they'd become good friends. Then best friends. Then Maura realized she never stopped thinking about Jane. She talked to Jane in her head as much – or more – than she did in real life. She conspired to make her laugh. Her day didn't start and didn't end until she'd seen Jane's face, heard her voice. Somewhere, somehow, over the years, Maura had fallen in love.
It was so irrational. So unlike her. You don't fall in love with your best friend! She'd secretly watched enough romantic comedies to know that this sort of thing was a fantasy. It was a trope. She could probably find a dozen studies proving that-
Maura's phone buzzed.
Her heart leapt so suddenly and violently, she felt the bed shake. Taking a deep breath, she tossed the pillow off her head and flipped over. Laying flat on her back she held up her phone. The glow from the screen was the only light in the room, and it cascaded over her face.
Jane: you up?
Maura: Yes.
Jane: you sleep at all?
Maura: No. You?
Jane: no
Maura didn't know what to say next, so she waited. She was using Jane's own trick on her, which felt a bit traitorous, but if Maura had learned anything about detective work it was that sometimes just staying quiet made people talk more than any question could.
5:03. 5:04. 5:05. 5:06.
Jane: you still there?
Maura: Yes.
Jane: the sox won
Maura: I know.
Jane: you watched the game?!
Maura: No. But I kept track of the score. I need to be able to gauge your mood.
Jane: I would type a tongue sticking out face if those weren't so stupid
Maura: They aren't stupid. Sometimes it's difficult to understand a person's emotional state when you're just reading text.
Jane: :P
5:10. 5:11. 5:12. 5:13.
Jane: so
Maura: So.
Jane: i'm sorry i ran out like that
Maura: It's OK.
Jane: don't say anything else right now about it, though, ok? Just... don't.
Jane: do you want to go running?
Jane: maura?
Jane: did you fall asleep on me?
Maura: You said not to say anything else right now.
Jane: :P
Maura: :P
Maura: Yes, I would like to go running, Jane.
Jane: i'll be there in half an hour
Maura sat up, her messy hair falling over her shoulders. She felt exhausted, but lighter. Jane didn't want to talk about it. Fine. They were going to have to talk about it some time, but Maura didn't feel rushed. Not now that she knew Jane didn't hate her.
She climbed out of bed and padded to her closet. The light was bright, harsh, and she blinked hard as she chose her running outfit. Her eyes were tearing up from the sudden sharp light... but no. It wasn't just from that. Maura leaned down to grab her sneakers, remembering how she had dragged Jane to a specialty store that would allow them to run on a treadmill so the fitting of their shoes would be exact. She remembered how Jane scoffed and joked about how you were just supposed to buy shoes and break them in. "You see what fits, it hurts like hell for a few weeks, and then when your blisters heal you know you've broken them in."
Maura felt the tears rising, and it made her feel ridiculous. It was just the exhaustion playing havoc with her emotions. She wanted to believe that was true. She sat on the floor of her closet, staring at the shoes, swiping away her tears, chewing the corner of her thumbnail.
You see what fits, it hurts like hell for a few weeks, you heal, and you know you've broken them in.
Jane fit. Jane had always fit.
But could Maura survive the hurting stage? The healing? Could Maura break her in? Was that even a possibility with Jane?