"Queer?" I say. "I don't have a word for whatever this is. I've never looked at a woman in my life and felt anything. But I look at you and I —" I shake my head, helpless. "I'm very, very attracted to you. That's the truth. I don't understand it but I'm not going to pretend it isn't there."
The silence stretches again and I think,do it, please, just kiss me again.I know she's thinking about it — her eyes go to my mouth one more time and her hand twitches at her side. Then she steps back instead, pushes a hand through her hair, and lets out a long breath.
"We should talk," she says. "Properly. Let's sit on the porch. I'll get us a drink."
42
MAGGIE
Ihand Sloane a beer and she takes a long drink, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I sit down next to her on the porch bench.
"So," I say.
"So."
I've had all weekend and all day to think about what to say but now that she's just dropped another bomb on me, words fail me. I'd been so sure she'd come back from LA with regrets about Friday.
"I meant what I said out there," I finally say. "About it being a line. You're only here because you have to be, and I'm the one who signs off that you've done your time. It's immoral."
"I know that."
She's looking at me the way she looked at me on Friday, and for a second I lose the thread of my own argument entirely. She's beautiful. It's an inconvenient, undeniable fact. "Do you?"
"I'm not a child, Maggie. I know what your signature means. I'm just telling you that knowing that hasn't made the slightest bit of difference to how I feel."
I look at my hands as I can't answer her honestly.
Sloane is quiet. Then, carefully: "Can I ask you something?"
"Go on."
"When you kissed me." She picks at the label on her beer bottle and peels a corner of it. "Was that — I keep going over it. Was that just the moment for you? Or was it — It feels like more."
"It wasn't the moment," I admit. "I've been having a word with myself for a while. But even if you weren't under my supervision, your life is so vastly different from mine that it would be pointless. Not to mention that you've probably never been with a woman." I pause. "Have you?"
"No." Sloane turns the bottle in her hands. For once she doesn't have a quick answer ready. "I've never even thought about it. Not once, in twenty-eight years. I dated men because that's what I did, the same way I went to the right parties and wore the right clothes — because it didn't occur to me there was another option." She looks up. "And then I got here, and I started watching you do the most ordinary things, and I —" She stops. Her cheeks have gone pink. "Look, I understand what you're saying, but I've been having these feelings for a while too, and I'm seriously questioning the straight part. My mother would say it's a phase, but I don't think it is." She shifts toward me and her knee touches mine.
"I'm not going to tell you what you are," I say, looking down at her leg. "If you say you're attracted to me, I believe you." I hesitate. "But I don't want to be your experiment. I'm not built for being someone's interesting summer."
"Ouch." She winces. "Is that what you think this is?"
"I'm sorry but it's sensible to assume." I realize I've stopped breathing in any normal rhythm. "You're going back to LA after you've done your time and we'll never see each other again. That's a fact."
"A fact." She sits back, and there's an edge in her voice now. "You've decided how this ends and you haven't even let it start. That's not fair, Maggie."
"I'm just being realistic."
"No. You looked at me on day one and you decided exactly who I was. Spoiled. Useless. Lazy. And you were right — I was all of those things. But you've spent five weeks watching me change and you still won't let me be anything other than the woman who's going to fly home and break your heart. You're so sure I'm going to disappoint you that you'd rather not have any of it but isn't it incredibly rare to find a connection like this with someone? Wouldn't it be a waste if we didn't at least explore it?"
I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
"Look, I don't know what happens after. But I know I've never wanted someone more than I want you. I've also never respected someone more." Her fingers brush my jaw and stay there. "That's all I've got. I know it's not enough but it's true."
I turn my face into her hand and close my eyes. It's the smallest movement, but it's a decision. When I open them again, she leans in and brushes her lips against mine. It's slow and certain and my hand comes up to the side of her neck while her fingers curl into the front of my shirt. The sound she makes against my mouth undoes whatever was left of my resolve.
I kiss her back and stop thinking about the piece of paper with my signature on it, about LA, about helicopters, about every sensible thing, and I let it be what it is.
My hand slides from her neck into her hair and she leans into me, her body softening. Tilting my head, I kiss her slowly and deeply, and the longer it goes on the less careful either of us is.
