96. Chapter 96

There’s a knock on the door – just two soft, nervous raps – and Maggie, in a grey tee and black sweats, trudges to answer, befuddled at the idea of company at this hour.

She opens the door and it’s Alex, Alex, fuck, the woman she’s been so desperately trying not to sleep with, the woman who’s just coming out, who has too much to learn, who’s too wide-eyed and vulnerable to be with someone like Maggie.

But before Maggie can even open her mouth – hell, before Maggie can even properly process – Alex is speaking.

“You saved her life. That woman, you ran into that warehouse and you saved her life, she’s alive.”

Maggie’s jaw is open and she can barely breathe, let alone speak, so she says nothing, and for a moment, Alex doesn’t either. Until Alex is stepping past Maggie’s stunned body, side-stepping her and walking a few paces into her living room before turning, before breathing, before sighing, before doing that nervous little thing she does with her hands, before speaking again.

“I respect you. As a woman. As a cop, as someone who’s not fresh off the gay boat, I respect you.”

Maggie’s door is still open and her jaw is still open and her eyes are even more open when Alex shrugs her jacket to the ground with a deep breath and a nervous demand.

“So… teach me.”

“What’re you doin – ” Maggie tries to splutter, Maggie tries to protest, because Alex is leaning over to balance on the couch with one hand and taking off her shoes with the other. “Don’t do that. Stop.”

But even as she slips off her shoe, Alex doesn’t take her wide, eager eyes off Maggie’s face. “Teach me,” she says again, her voice so much smaller than it ever is in the field.

Maggie exhales harshly and shuts her front door with a snap and turns back to Alex, Alex, who’s working on her other shoe now, still staring at her face.

“Stop,” Maggie pleads, not because she doesn’t want Alex – god, she does, and Alex knows, because they’ve talked about it, but she also knows that she’s fresh off the boat, that those relationships never work out.

That she has so much to learn. Which is apparently why she’s here, because she says it again. “Teach me.”

“We can’t do this, you’re just coming out, and and and I wanna do what’s best for you, and I… I’m your friend.”

“So,” Alex rebuts, fingering the hem of her purple sweater. “Teach me.” She tugs her sweater off and her camisole is lacy and Maggie groans with frustrated need and puts her hand on her own face in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of self control.

“Na, Alex.”

“Teach me,” Alex says again, tossing her sweater down with deliberation, swiping the hair out of her face.

Maggie’s hands are on her hips and she’s trying to stare at the ground, just the ground, between them, but Alex is sighing and Alex is breathing “Teach me” again, and she’s tugging her camisole off now and her bra is some kind of maroon and her hair is swept across her face and she sighs with a small, insecure tremble in her voice.

“Come on, am I really so bad?” She glances down at her own body, stares across at Maggie’s wrecked face, stares because they’re grown women and they want each other and sure Maggie’s trying to do the right thing but doesn’t Alex get a say in defining what’s right for her and god, no, she’s not bad at all, quite the opposite, she’s perfect.

“No. I am,” Maggie rasps solemnly, because maybe it’s against her better judgement but god, we should kiss the girls we want to kiss, and Maggie just wants to kiss Alex, and Alex’s eyes are wide, are scared, are hopeful as Maggie strides forward to close the gap between them, pulling Alex down into a kiss with her hands under her hair on either side of her face, and Alex is swooning and Alex is wrapping her arms around Maggie’s shoulders and Maggie intends to fulfill Alex’s every wish, starting with teaching her everything she’s ever learned about making a woman happy.