129. Chapter 129

Men had worn ties and tried to dance with her before.

Men had worn suits to try to impress her before.

But god, god, god, none of them did anything to her except make her bored, make her uncomfortable, make her wish she felt something, make her wish she felt like everyone told her she was supposed to.

But Maggie?

Maggie wearing a suit? Maggie wearing a suit for her?

Her knees had survived DEO training and her knees had survived being kicked out from under her and her knees had survived sharing a bathroom with an overeager little sister who could bench press an airplane.

But Maggie. Wearing a suit. For her. On Valentine’s Day. Even though Maggie hated the damn capitalist thing.

Her knees had never been so weak.

And Maggie held her up, Maggie wrapped her arms around her waist, but that wasn’t the only way Maggie held her.

Maggie held her with her eyes, Maggie held her with her smile, and for a long, long time it was forehead to forehead, breathing, breathing, taking it all in because never, never, had either of them felt this giddy yet this peaceful, this secure yet this excited. This gentle. This tender. This perfect.

Months ago, Alex had thought that perfection was Maggie smiling at her. Then she’d thought perfection was Maggie’s lips on hers. Then she’d thought perfection was Maggie’s hands roaming her body, Maggie’s eyes checking in before each new movement, Maggie’s soft moans when Alex moved a certain way, felt a certain way, touched a certain place. Then she’d thought perfection was Maggie, in her t-shirt, making coffee, the morning sunlight blossoming out of her hair and through her smile.

And those things were perfection.

But so was this, this, this.

Because men had worn ties before, men had worn suits before, and Alex had seen all the crappy romantic movies but she’d never understood the appeal, but now, now, now, as Maggie smiles and steps back to crack open a bottle of champagne, now Alex understands what the fuss has been, because now she can’t bare to have Maggie leaving her arms, so now she’s running her fingers down Maggie’s red tie – red, red, to match her dress, to match her corsage, because Maggie thought about it, thought about her, because Maggie cared enough to really romance her, not just try to get herself laid – and Maggie is gulping because Alex is pulling her close by her tie, running her fingers down, down, down, letting the silk run through her fingertips, letting her breath leave her body in a shaky exhale, because now her fingers are shifting to Maggie’s belt loops, pulling her entire body closer, closer, closer, and Maggie’s eyes are giving her all the permission she needs because Maggie’s pupils are dilating and her tongue is wetting her lips and she’s leaning up on her tip toes and she’s kissing Alex slow, she’s kissing Alex steady, she’s kissing Alex like it’s prom night and the world is theirs.

Because it is prom night – their prom night – and the world? The world is theirs.