73. Chapter 73

She used to sneak out in her truck and drive an hour and a half out of Blue Springs to the nearest gay bar with her best friend – the only other out gay kid in her school, in her town – and the bar’s pool table was as bumpy and cratered as Martian terrain.

But the dart board worked just fine.

And she would only ever have enough money for gas, enough money to slip to the little kids who got their lunch money beaten out of them so they could eat, enough money to buy herself the few lesbian DVDs she could get her hands on.

So she got good at darts. Good enough to get her drinks paid for. Good enough to hustle some extra cash so she could start saving up for her first Triumph; some extra cash so she could start saving to go to college far away from this damn town.

When she got to National City, the alien bar didn’t have a dart board. But being a rookie cop didn’t pay much, and she was still in debt from school, and it was nice to make some friends while making some extra grocery money, so M’gann indulged her by setting up a dart board in the back.

When Alex Danvers came around, Maggie was still teaching herself to play pool, and she was so enthralled with the smooth shots Alex made, the confidence in the way she bent over the table, the deftness of her fingers and the slight squint in her eye when she set up another perfect shot, that for a long time Maggie forgot about the dart board.

Until Winn discovered it, loudly, and Maggie smirked. Because she was constantly losing to Alex Danvers – her money; her pride at being able to win whatever game she played; her heart.

But darts? No no. She wouldn’t lose at darts.

And she didn’t, and it turned out that Alex Danvers was a sore, sore loser.

And it turned out, further, that Maggie didn’t mind soothing her with kisses, with barely-there whispers, with a sway of her hips and a wink of her eye that made Alex forget all about the game.