not thinking about Bay

Jane had told herself it was just a committee meeting. Casual. Routine. Just some queer community organizing, a few folding chairs, and the ever-present existential threat of store-bought hummus.

And then Bay had walked in.

Bay, with her slightly rumpled shirt, that nervous smile, and the way she always seemed like she was about five seconds away from either giving a TED Talk on obscure queer history or spontaneously combusting.

Jane had smiled without thinking. She always did when Bay was around. It was like a reflex. Like sneezing. Or checking for cats in the window of every apartment she passed.

Bay sat next to her and whispered something about gluten-free cookies, and Jane laughed even though she hadn’t fully heard it. Her brain was too busy trying to stay cool while her leg did something very unprofessional and brushed against Bay’s under the table.

Oops.

Jane didn’t move her leg.