Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

The music was loud, almost deafening. People all around her shouted in order to communicate, or danced, or drank, or all of it. Blanche sat on one of the stools across the room, away from the bar and away from the dancefloor, in front of a large glass of Long Island Ice Tea and an increasingly frustrated date. Sam kept trying to make conversation, but Blanche barely participated. Sip by sip she tried to drown her bad conscience, and unfortunately, it wasn't working.

Idiot. You're such a goddamn idiot.

This was her second order, and it was half empty by now, since it failed to shut up her inner voice. Sam asked her to dance, again, and she declined.

"Not now."

With badly concealed annoyance, he slammed down the rest of his whiskey. Blanche couldn't care less. Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Less than an hour ago – or was it two already? – she'd committed a huge error, the problem was she was still fighting with herself about what part had been the erroneous one. Kissing Dorothy had certainly not felt wrong at the time, on the contrary. In the past six months she'd thought of their New Year's kiss more often than she cared to admit, and this one today had felt just as wonderful. Still, after a minute or two of passion, she'd tensed up, suddenly she was shocked and afraid and overwhelmed. So she'd run off. Like a pathetic, abominable coward, she'd left Dorothy standing there, and in some kind of autopilot she finished dressing up and left with Sam for their date. Now she was sitting here in this mediocre bar, and everything felt wrong. She hated the place, the noise, the company, not even the drinks were strong enough for her to keep up this charade.

Oh, what was she going to do? This had been haunting her for six months, and now it had definitely caught up with her. The little control she'd had left was gone, and she was panicking. Blanche Devereaux had never fallen for a woman. Never even entertained the notion. Never thought anything like this could happen to her. Even just thinking about it made her hands shake, so she quickly took another big sip of her 'tea'. The signs were all there, now that she thought about it, weren't they? The desire to be close to her, the flutters when she was… She tried to suppress it, she tried so hard, with Robert, Sam, and countless others, but every time she returned home, where Dorothy was, she couldn't help but think about her, the softness of her touch and the loving look in her eyes. Unconsciously, she brushed over her bottom lip with two fingertips, remembering how-

"Blanche, what the hell is going on with you tonight?" Sam asked, looking rather angry now. "Like to share what you're thinking about so hard?"

"No," she replied, trying to maintain the little composure she'd left. "Shall we dance now?"

Sam seemed a little surprised, but accepted, and together they fought their way to the dancefloor. Blanche tried to look like she was having fun, tried to be a good sport, but her brain seemed unable to comply. Images of the dance marathon with Dorothy flashed up in her mind's eye, and she found herself wishing she was with her. She shouldn't have run away, not like this, not for the second time. But at the same time the thought of that confrontation scared her half to death. What could she say? What would Dorothy say? No, she just couldn't, not now, not ever. Surely she was mistaken about her feelings, there was no way that this was really love. A silly temptation. There were few things in bed she hadn't tried, and this was one of them, so wasn't it just natural to be curious? But Blanche Devereaux would not act upon it. She did not date women. Maybe her brother had announced late in that he was gay, but no way in hell something like this would happen to her. Not to Blanche Devereaux. She liked men, always had and always would. She was overreacting, surely this wasn't more than a silly confusion. It would pass, she just needed a little more time.

Such were her thoughts as she listlessly danced with Sam, who was regarding her less critically, and seemed to have fun. They danced for five or six songs, and Blanche had almost calmed herself down. Then a more romantic tune came up and he embraced her. She let it happen, trying to return to being her usual self. She'd almost stopped thinking at all, when slowly the words of the ever popular 80's rock ballad found their way to her disorientated mind.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Blanche felt the tears rise, but pressed her lips shut tightly, and blinked rapidly to make them disappear. This was not at all what she was feeling, she tried to tell herself. There's nothing to show. She tried to focus – this was a date. She was in public. She'd ruin her make-up, the evening and make a fool of herself. But God did she feel miserable.

My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you

I've been running round in circles in my mind

And it always seems I'm following you girl

'Cause you take me to the places that alone I'd never find

Don't think about it, don't think about it, Blanche internally yelled at herself, but it was no use. She couldn't not listen, not at this volume, and she couldn't run out either considering the tight grip Sam had on her and how offended he'd be. If she could just stop herself, keep control until this damn song ended, then have another drink or two until she could no longer think –

I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I've started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars forever

As Blanche felt the first tears roll down her cheek, the fight was over. She'd lost. She vaguely heard the last chorus in the background, but she felt she'd lost all control. She couldn't even suppress the sobs that shook her so much Sam finally noticed something was wrong and pushed her back. Through the blur of tears, she couldn't really see, but she heard his exclamation: "Blanche! What the – what is wrong?"

Shaking her head, Blanche lifted her hands to wipe off the tears, but she ended up hiding behind them, unable to stop all the locked up emotions from spilling out. Sam guided her off the dance floor, and put an arm around her.

"What's the matter, honey? Why are you crying?"

"I – I'm sorry," she managed to say, clearing her throat. "Can you – please can you just take me home? I need to go home."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."

On the way to his car, Blanche managed to calm down a little. The cool night air helped, and so did the silence. Inside, she hadn't even heard her sobs, but now she was painfully aware of how pathetic she sounded. In the car, she tried to take care of the worst with a few hankies, and gradually, her crying subsided.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Sam asked, looking over.

Blanche shook her head. "I don't know."

"You've been acting strange all night, something must be the matter."

Avoiding his glance, Blanche looked out of the window. The lights of the city blurred, partly because of new tears, partly because the iced teas were kicking in.

"Alright, then don't tell me. That's just typical."

She didn't even reply to that, and tense silence filled the car. Blanche's mind wasn't quiet at all. The closer they got to home, the more nervous she felt. Finally, they turned into Richmond Drive, and stopped in front of the house.

"Thanks," Blanche said, and got out.

Sam followed her to the door. As Blanche got out her keys, he sighed.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said before leaning in for a good night kiss.

Blanche pushed him away. "Good night."

With that, she left him, and finally got home. It wasn't very late, so she wasn't surprised to see Sophia in the living room, watching TV. Only as she got closer she noticed that the old lady had fallen asleep. Relieved, she sneaked past her. Without any detour, she approached Dorothy's door. Again, she felt like crying, but she took a deep breath and knocked softly. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she wouldn't hear anything over the noise it made. When there was no answer, she waited, then knocked again, less softly.

"Dorothy?" She hesitated. "Please let me in."

Still no answer. Suddenly, the door swung open and she stood in front of her. As they looked at each other, Blanche saw her friend's serious expression turn worried, and imagined her own probably looked the same. Dorothy's eyes were terribly red and puffy.

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

After a moment, Dorothy stepped back and let her in. Blanche closed the door behind herself and followed her. She saw the messy bed, where Dorothy must have been sitting, and to where she returned now. Insecurely, Blanche took a few steps towards her. Just where a few hours ago…

"I –" Under Dorothy's grave stare, Blanche struggled to find the right words. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dorothy."

"For what?"

"Can I please sit down?"

Dorothy shrugged and pointed to the foot end of the bed. Blanche took a seat. From close up, Dorothy looked bad. Sad, tired, hurt. Blanche felt her heart contract painfully.

"I'm sorry for runnin' away like that," she said, not realizing that in the last minute she'd said sorry more times than in all the years they'd known each other. "That was cowardly."

Dorothy remained quiet, listening attentively. Blanche sighed, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"I've been thinkin'. A lot. About all this. You, me, New Year's, all of it. I'm just so scared, Dorothy."

"Of what?"

"I don't know what's the matter with me. When I … when kissed you on New Year's, it was just a joke. I was just thinkin' about that silly custom. But… well, today I wasn't. Obviously. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"You cried, too."

"I know. I just kept thinkin' about it, and I felt so bad, I couldn't stay out."

"For kissing me?"

"No. For leavin' you like that. I kissed you … because I wanted to."

Dorothy's expression softened a little.

"I know my reaction back then was rather harsh," Blanche admitted, "but I haven't forgotten what you told me. And that's why I shouldn't have run away today. I know this must've hurt your feelings."

"So… you're saying that this time you wanted to?"

Blanche nodded. "I don't know what came over me. You were so sweet – you always are, really – and I just… gave in." She searchingly glanced at Dorothy, who was visibly moved. "This is so confusin' for me, Dorothy, I never ever thought it would be possible for me to…"

"To what?" Dorothy asked softly.

Blanche took a deep breath, before saying quickly "To be attracted to you. Or any woman." She sighed. "But I guess that's what it is…"

"So you do feel something," Dorothy said, and it seemed a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Yeah, but I don't even know myself anymore, and it scares me, Dorothy, it scares me to death."

She felt the tears burn in her eyes again, as Dorothy carefully moved closer.

"Honey…" She softly placed her hand on Blanche's. "These things can be scary, believe me, I know. It took me years to come to terms with it. But it's not the end of the world, even though you were raised to believe that."

"I always thought it was horrible, you know, a sin – I didn't expect it to be so normal, so good. It doesn't feel wrong at all."

"That's because it's not wrong, darling."

"But I still feel like it must be. I want to be with you, but every time we get closer, it's… the fear just paralyzes me."

"Talk to me about it. We'll work it out."

"Just admittin' that I'm attracted to you… it's been half a year, and I can barely say it out loud. But I am. And if I think about what people would say..." Suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears again.

Dorothy carefully put an arm around her. "Don't. Since when do you care about people anyway?"

Blanche sniffled. "This is different. If you're with lots of men, it doesn't matter, you're still with men. Nobody really minds. But this… I'm just so confused."

"No need to rush, honey. I'm not going anywhere."

Blanche looked up into her best friend's warm brown eyes, and she felt a little smile push through.

"I can't believe I'm finally talkin' about it."

"I'm very glad you are. It's so much better to be open and honest about these things," Dorothy said, smiling warmly. "And I'm so glad I wasn't going crazy, imagining or just hoping you felt something, too."

Again, Blanche felt the butterflies in her stomach, and by now her resistance to that smile, that husky voice was low to non-existent.

"You are so… soft." She gently cupped Dorothy's cheek with her hand, and felt the shiver she caused. Excited by that reaction, Blanche leaned in and kissed her. Dorothy was surprised at first, but quickly adapted. Tilting her head slightly to the right, she kissed her back softly. But as Blanche became more passionate and tried to push her back on the bed, she withdrew, the taste of liquor lingering on her tongue.

"And you are drunk, sweetheart," Dorothy stated, to which Blanche just shrugged. "Let's continue this talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

Dorothy smiled at her as she let her go, and Blanche smiled right back at her.

"You know I really like you, Dorothy," she said, and would have loved to kiss her right again.

"I know, Blanche. And I adore you."

"Can't I just sleep here?"

Dorothy chuckled. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, honey. And you're bedroom's just next door, you know."

"Oh, right," Blanche said, softly shaking her head.

"You go get some sleep, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright." Clumsily, Blanche got on her feet. "Good night, sweet Dorothy."

"Good night, sweet belle," Dorothy replied and kissed her on the forehead.

That night, both their dreams were very pleasant, and when Blanche got up the next morning, she found Dorothy already in the kitchen.

"Oh, good mornin'!"

"Morning, Blanche! Did you sleep well?"

"Just perfect. What you're makin'?"

"Pancakes. I thought you might need something substantial."

"Thank you."

"Oh, it's no big deal, just sit down," Dorothy said as she served the first batch.

Blanche got her coffee first, then they sat down together.

"So are you looking forward to your first day at the museum?" Blanche asked, avoiding for the moment the topic both were itching to adress.

"Very much, it's a pretty rewarding summer job, nice place, easy tasks, great company…" She winked at her best friend, who smiled back.

"Maybe this year you can help organize the banquet. We've already booked the location, but there's still a lot to do."

"I'd love to."

When Sophia and Rose joined them, they chatted on about silly things, and it wasn't until they'd almost arrived at the museum, that Blanche dared to break the silence.

"About last night…" she said, hesitating, "I don't how to say this."

Dorothy looked scared and vulnerable, so she quickly added, "I'm not takin' anythin' back. It's just… Can we take it slow? Very slow?"

Dorothy took her hand and Blanche sighed at the comfort this gesture brought. "Of course, honey."

"I'm gonna need some time to think about this. To make sure. Because I am, but also I'm not. If to act on it, I mean."

"I understand," Dorothy said, carefully stroking the back of her best friend's hand with her thumb. "Take your time."

Blanche nodded, smiling, and after another moment, they got out of the car and to work.