Chapter 3
Kate looks at herself in the mirror.
Her hair is still damp from the shower, her skin wet. Some droplets follow invisible patterns down her collarbones, along her chest, under the towel wrapped around her. The light of the bathroom mirror makes her eyes harsh, intensifies her features and makes them sharper.
Her hair looks darker, her skin paler. A pleasing contrast.
Staring at her image, she wonders if Maura looks even softer in the morning, with her messy hair and her sleepy face. Would she be grumpy like her? How would she like her coffee? Or would she prefer tea?
Please, let it be coffee.
A sharp knock on the door echoes in the small bathroom. Why is she even thinking about these things? She met her less than twelve hours ago. And still, she wants her questions answered. She already craves to know her favorite color, the name of the perfume she smelled on her neck, the book she can't stop reading.
It's innocent, she tells herself, plain curiosity.
"Kate, I'm going to pick the lock," Madison shouts from outside.
She is leaning against the doorframe when Kate opens the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a sly smirk on her lips. She walks past her without acknowledging her, her steps fast while she heads for her closet.
"So, are you going to ignore me or tell me how it was?" Madison asks, turning to her, still grinning.
"How was what?" Kate replies, searching for a clean t-shirt and a pair of pants that would go with it.
"The sex with another girl," Maddie replies, bold and mischievous as always. She takes a step toward her when Kate turns to her and shushes her, her cheeks flushing as she denies.
"Okay, no sex. How is she then? Pompous, diffident, know-it-all?" Madison tries. "Boring?"
She stresses the last adjective and Kate knows that's what everyone thinks of Maura. As she turns again to Madison and narrows her eyes at her, Kate feels the insult insinuate under her skin.
How many times must Maura have heard it? How much time must it have taken for her to believe them, to slowly distance herself and accept their words as true? It makes sense now, the way last night Maura kept asking her if she was sure, if she didn't prefer to head back inside.
You don't have to, repeated so many times.
"Maura's kind," Kate replies, heartily and frankly, emphasizing her name. "Smart. Interesting. Passionate."
Madison raises her hands in surrender and Kate sighs, her face relaxes as she turns back toward her clothes. Maddie keeps watching her, tough, studying her as she wiggles her legs into her ripped jeans. She drops the towel and slides into a black, Metallica t-shirt, not bothering with a bra, gathering her hair up to pull it out of the top.
Kate is fierce. And protective.
But she doesn't grow fond of people easily. She's reserved, guarded. Does Maura know how much time it took for Kate to open up with Madison? And yet, in a night Maura got Kate to stand up for her, to defend her.
She doesn't know what Kate saw in that blonde girl last night, or why she seems already so attached; she knows there's something, though. Something she doesn't have the courage to name. She saw the look Kate gave her when she offended the girl, how important she made her name sound – Maura, if she's not mistaken.
Already so proud.
Kate checks her phone, stares at the screen for a moment before forcing it in her pocket. She slips into her black sneakers, slides her leather jacket from the chair and takes her bag from the floor with the other hand.
Be careful, Madison whispers as she watches Kate go.
The monotone voice of her professor is but a passing background noise.
His eyes never leave his sheets of paper, he rhythmically taps his pen on the wooden surface of his desk. It's wearing to try to follow his lecture, his cadence both repetitive and slow.
He's not enough to erase from her mind the image of the deep hazel eyes that kept staring at her last night. It's dizzy not to be able to stop, her stomach has ached since she woke up and failed to find a reason to text her.
Maura considered just sending her a greeting to let her have her number, or try with an offer for lunch or invite her to one of her nights at the theater. Everything sounded too dump or dull to send her anything, though. She doesn't know what Kate likes. A part of her mind kept reminding her that she couldn't be sure Kate even liked her for real.
Still lying on her bed, she kept over-thinking, knowing it was futile to analyze again her tone of voice or the line of her mouth, the movements of her irises.
She considered the idea of not contacting her at all. Kate would forget her easily and Maura could bear the remorse. What she can't stand is rejection. What would Kate's no mean? That even the kindest of them all isn't interested in spending time with her.
The thought of Kate walked with her along the university's hallways and set beside her at this tedious lesson. Still hasn't abandoned her. Meeting Kate could turn out to be one of the best incidents of her life – or, at worse, a meaningless occurrence.
It's naïve, and irrational, but something about Kate fascinates her.
No, she couldn't live with the remorse.
It's past nine in the evening when Maura finally dials her number.
During the day she made a list of things she could have texted her. They weren't many and she crossed them all off immediately after. Her logical side told her there was no real reason to doubt Kate liked her: her kindness was natural and the first impression she gave her was positive.
She gave up, then. She revised her lesson, went to yoga and then ate with her roommates. But when she flopped on her bed and glanced at the time, she knew she couldn't postpone anymore.
Sitting cross legged on her bed, worrying the nail of her thumb with her teeth, she waits and listens to the digital rings echoing in her ear. She doesn't know what she'll say, but maybe Kate will make it easier for her with her voice.
A sudden white silence and a hello? on the other side follow and make her freeze.
Kate's voice sounds different. Deeper and darker, distant. But intense.
Maura finds herself smiling as the rich tone fills her ears and goes to her bones. Kate repeats her hello?, slower and more tentative. Her voice dulls her sense, she forgets she should answer and wishes she could just listen.
"Maura?" Kate whispers.
She likes the way she says her name: with such attention and strength, cherishing it.
"Hi, Kate," she answers. Kate sighs, breathing out, relieved, and for a moment she wonders if Maura can hear her smile. "How are you?"
"Now I'm good," Kate lets out instantly. It would be meaningless to lie about it: she spent her day questioning her actions and thinking maybe she would have never heard from her again.
"I'm sorry, for not calling earlier."
"No, don't be. I'm just glad you did eventually."
"I am, too," Maura mutters.
There's silence after that, she hears Kate move, sheets shifting on the other end, her own legs stretching in front of her to keep her mind occupied. She bends them then and plops her arm on her knees, her fingers playing with her hair.
"I have no idea how to do this," Maura admits. "I want to know you, too. But I don't want to force it, I don't want it to feel like a test. And I don't want to feel anxious about every little thing I do with you or say to you."
"I agree," Kate replies sweetly. "So… how does calling feel?"
"Good, I suppose."
Her answer is uncertain but Kate can hear her grin, almost childishly. She can imagine her dimple in the low light, how easy it would be to reach out and stroke it. Maybe Maura would lean into her palm, trapping her between her cheek and her shoulder.
"Then we can keep doing this, when we feel like it. And we can text. About anything, just to share: silly things, meaningless things. Maybe we can see where that leaves us and decides if we want more?"
"Is that what people do?" Maura asks, furrowing her brows even if Kate can't see her. She hears her murmur a faint no andimmediately regrets her question, she knows she made Kate blush, self-conscious.
"But we don't have to do it like others, right?" Kate whispers.
"No, we don't."
Maura raises her eyes from her comforter, her image in the mirror greets her on the opposite wall. She looks small, and she's smiling a smile she recognizes: it's the one she had when she was little and begged to have her hair braided, jumping around the house and tugging incessantly on her mom's skirt.
She felt so pretty after.
She never let anyone else do her braids.
"You make me feel lightheaded," Maura admits, quietly. "Which is a sensation that occurs when the level of sugar in your blood is low, you are on the flu, or the body is dehydrated or at short of oxygen. So it looks like there is no relation between what I'm feeling and what my body is experiencing, which is highly implausible."
Kate doesn't answers, just stares into the dark, thinking about what Maura has said. She likes her innocence, the way she seems not to realize fully what she is admitting.
"Wow," she finally murmurs. "That's a very interesting way to tell me I make you lose your breath."
"Kate, it would be impossible to make one's lose their breath," she answers, solemn and logical. There's a moment of silence and Kate grins into the back of her hand, she can almost hear Maura reconsidering her sentence, all concentrated and confused. "Unless… unless you meant it rhetorically."
"I did," Kate answers, her lips still upturned. "But thank you for clarifying that."
Maura sighs into her ear, shifting a little before replying.
"I don't usually understand idioms or slang words, Kate," she says, her voice dropping and her smile fading. "Awkward moments always follow."
"Nobody ever taught them to you, that's all," Kate clarifies, worrying the hem of her t-shirt with her fingers. She wonders if she should comfort her, tell her people are daft and ridiculous. But it would be lame. Maura craves to fit in, she just needs to be accepted.
"Okay, so you could teach me French and Italian and I could teach you slang and Russian, right?"
"Is that a ruse to see me again?" Maura asks and Kate can almost hear the grin deep down in her voice, threatening to break free on her lips.
"Of course it is," she whispers sweetly. She finds extremely easy to spill the truth to her, as if her inability to tell lies had penetrated in her own bones. Sincere answers and an honest affection are probably the only things she can give her, after all.
"I would do anything to see you again."
When Maura wakes up the next morning and checks the time, there's a text popping up on the screen of her phone.
From Kate.
By the way, you make me lose my breath, too.
TBC