A/N: Thank you for the reviews :-)
"Tell her?" I ask myself, repeating Frost's words, before I stop in the mirror and look at myself properly.
I'm not gay. I like men. This is crazy. I mean, it's Maura! I can't be attracted to Maura. Maura, my best friend. Maura, my colleague. No. I'm not attracted to her.
"Am I?" I say to myself, now confused.
I turn on the water and splash my face when I hear the door to the rest room open. When I raise my head, I look in the mirror to see Maura walk in. Maura; my best friend; my colleague, in a little red dress that is clinging to her skin, accentuating her curves to perfection. Her modest cleavage, elegant neckline… those expressive eyes and the little dimple that I know is right there on the left side of her face every time she smiles. But she's not smiling now. She looks worried.
"Jane?" she says rather urgently.
Shit. Did I zone out again?
"Yes?" I respond, trying to act normal. Trying to save face. Did she notice that I was… well, staring (ogling) her?
"Jane, are you ok? You have been acting very peculiar tonight," she continues as she steps up beside me and rests her hand on my bicep, her eyes searching mine for a response.
I know I have been. But to admit that will require an explanation. An explanation that I'm not quite willing to even properly acknowledge just yet, let alone fess up to.
"I'm just tired, like I said," I reply as I grab a paper towel and dry my face. "I think I might head home."
"Let me drive you. I don't want you driving in this state," she offers. But it's more like a demand than an offer, as she's already heading towards the door with a determined step.
"That's not really necessary," I say, but she turns and gives me 'resolve' face, which means I won't be winning this time and we needn't discuss it any further.
So yes, there are many things I know about Maura Isles. I know what every look means. I know her moods, and I know when she means one thing but says another (albeit without actually lying). I know the things that upset her, and the things that make her happy. I know when to talk to her, and when to let her do all the talking. And I've always know what a wonderful person she is; caring, considerate, passionate about her work and life in general. I guess what I'm only just now starting to realise is that I also know every curve of her body, every freckle on her shoulders, and every inch of her face. I know what mood she is by the way she walks, and I notice the way she walks because I can't help but watch her whenever she is in my line of sight.
And while I'm standing here realising all this, she's standing there staring at me, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly, and her mouth on the verge of forming a sly little grin.
"Ok, let's go then," I say as I regather myself (and some of my dignity) and walk past her out the door.
