The rest of high school is a blur.
Her senior year, she enrolls in five Advanced Placement classes. She doesn’t need the extra bump in her GPA, she knows she can get into almost any college she wants with her grades, but she wants her mother to see that she’s making an effort. That she’s doing her best.
It never seems to matter though. Her mother has been distant since her father died and instead of the attention she craves, all Alex ends up with is sleepless nights trying to remember complex chemical structures and mathematical formulas. Her mother doesn’t notice that she’s still at the kitchen table in the morning surrounded by energy drinks, but she does notice the “C” she receives on her progress report in Calculus.
She has to bite back her shame and ask Kara for help.
To her credit, Kara no longer treats her like a being of inferior intelligence. They’re bonded now as sisters, for better or worse, and Alex is glad, but as the years go by and Kara adjusts to being an Earth teenager, she gets less awkward. Less gangly. Popular . And suddenly Alex is spending more time in her room alone with her thoughts while Kara flourishes.
In March, Alex is asked to prom by a boy in her AP Biology class. He’s nice enough, handsome she supposes, but she turns him down. She doesn’t want to hold his hand or slow dance to “Truly, Madly, Deeply” in his arms. And she definitely doesn’t want to have to kiss him at the end of the night.
He goes to prom with Kara instead.
In May, she is chosen to give the valedictorian speech at her graduation. All of her hard work and all of the hours she spent after class doing extra credit projects with her biology teacher finally pay off. But as she stands up on that stage with her cap and gown and her notecards with her speech, she doesn’t feel accomplished. She feels empty.
When she looks out into the crowd, her father’s smiling face is absent. He’ll never know about her near perfect GPA, or the multiple acceptance letters to prestigious universities all across the country. He’ll never see her wearing the brand new Stanford University sweatshirt that is sitting on her bed at home.
She doesn’t go to any of the post-graduation parties. She’s invited— the whole class is— but she doesn’t want to go and pretend that she’s going to miss any one of her peers.
Instead, she and Kara climb up onto the roof of the house to eat burgers and watch the stars. It’s something they’ve done many times before, but it feels bittersweet now, knowing it might be a long time before they’ll sit like this again.
They haven’t talked about it yet— Alex leaving. It’s the elephant in the room. The Danvers Sisters have been there for each other for years, and that fact will never change, but Alex craves some freedom. Craves the opportunity to strike out on her own and prove to her mother and to herself, that she can succeed. She knows that she and Kara will keep in touch, and if she really needs her sister, Alex knows that she just needs to say the word and Kara will be there faster than a speeding bullet.
Still, she spends her last few weeks in Midvale doing all of Kara’s favorite activities. She tells her that it’s in exchange for Kara’s super speed in helping her pack, but they both know the truth.
She gives Kara her stereo, but she holds firm on the fuzzy grey sweater she knows her sister has been coveting. She needs it more, it’s much colder up north, and she’s learned to remain unswayed by Kara’s puppy dog eyes.
She’s packing away a box of books when Kara turns down the music and clears her throat to get her attention.
“I already told you, you can’t have my—” She turns to face her sister, a stern look on her face, but falters when she spots the stack of paper in Kara’s hands. “Where did you get that?”
“They were under your bed, I didn’t mean to pry…” Kara looks apologetic, her eyebrows knitted together. “Alex are these… are these all letters to Maggie?”
Alex can’t speak. Her throat is stuck and all she can do is nod dumbly. She’s been writing to Maggie for years, and the stack of letters that Kara is holding is only a small portion of them, but she’s not sure how to explain them to Kara. She knows it’s stupid, continuing to write to a girl that, for all intents and purposes, no longer exists, but she can’t help it. Maggie has become a safe haven that she has been loathe to give up. Even though she doesn’t hear from Maggie anymore, Alex imagines what she’d say. What she’d think.
The thought of her is still comforting.
“You really miss her still, huh?” Kara thumbs through the letters, her finger tracing the place where the postage would rest. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Alex just shrugs. She’d considered telling her sister about how much she still missed her best friend, but every time she thought about it, something stopped her. She still couldn’t figure out why she missed Maggie so much and having to confront that feeling terrifies her.
“Okay, well…” Kara bites the inside of her cheek, the way she does when she has something she wants to say, but doesn’t know if she should. Alex has known Kara long enough to recognize it, and she hopes Kara just lets it go. Thankfully, she does. “Do you want me to pack them?”
“Yeah. Um. In the box with my books.” She reaches out to take the letters from Kara, then tucks them away in the box in front of her. “Thanks.”
Alex moves to the other side of the room, facing away from Kara, and busies herself with folding some of her shirts. She can’t look at her sister. She doesn’t want to see the concern on her face.
Kara doesn’t mention the letters again.
She doesn’t write to Maggie again until a few weeks after the start of the semester. She’s been busy, what with unpacking and meeting her roommate and trying to figure out where all of her classes are on the sprawling campus.
By the time she finds a spare minute to herself, her brain is overflowing and she’s relieved when she can take the time to get some of her thoughts out on paper. Her roommate is out, probably with her on again-off again boyfriend, and she can relax. She likes the girl well enough, but she’s looking forward to getting an off campus apartment next year already.
She stretches out on her bed, notebook propped up on her legs, and eases into the familiar practice of writing.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. Not that you’ll get these anyway, but that’s not really the point I guess. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I got into Stanford. My mom was less than excited. I think she wanted me to go to school a bit closer to Midvale, but I needed to get out of there. Midvale just had too many memories, you know? I couldn’t even go out to the beach anymore without thinking of my dad.
Kara drove up the coast with me to help move me into my dorm. It was nice, except she insisted on playing a CD she burned for me. “So I wouldn’t forget her,” or something like that. It was basically just the Backstreet Boys and N’Sync. I do miss her though. She was the only one I could really talk to, other than you. And I’m not really talking to you, am I?
It’s been four years since your last letter. As mad as I was at you, you’re still the best friend I’ve ever had, other than Kara. I’m sorry for thinking it, but I used to hope that something did happen to you. Not because I wanted something bad to happen, but because that would mean that it wasn’t something that I did or said to make you hate me. But now I just hope you’re doing okay. Wherever you are. I hope you made it out of Nebraska. You deserve better than that.
The door to her dorm room swings open and her roommate rushes in like a whirlwind, tears streaming down her face. She flops down on her bed across from Alex’s own, and groans dramatically.
Sometimes her roommate reminds her so much of Kara. They have the same blonde hair and the same seemingly limitless optimism. Except when she’s on the outs with her fellow theatre major boyfriend. Then it’s like the world has ended.
Alex rolls her eyes and turns back to her letter.
Anyway, my roommate just came back and she’s crying. Again. Which means her boyfriend probably broke up with her again. So I’m going to go put on a movie for a girls’ night.
Goodnight, Maggie. I still miss you.
She folds up the letter and tucks it into her notebook. She’ll file it away once her roommate goes to the bathroom or something.
Her roommate’s sobs have subsided, giving way to sniffles and Alex knows that means she wants to talk.
Early on, they formed a tentative friendship over shared pints of ice cream, and Alex always makes sure to have some stocked in their small fridge/freezer for times like this.
That night, as they pass the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough back and forth, her roommate looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and laments the fact that she isn’t gay because, “Alex, you’d make the best boyfriend.” Alex laughs it off, but hours later, as she lies in her dorm bed, unable to sleep, there’s a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that she can’t shake.
She graduates early from Stanford, thanks to the college credits she earned in high school, and applies to National City University for graduate school. She chooses an MD/PhD program, not necessarily because she wants to, but because it’s what she should do. Her mother seems happy with her decision at least, and so is Kara, if only because they’ll be at the same college.
She briefly dates a guy she meets in one of her classes. He writes her poetry and she ignores his calls in favor of later and later nights in the lab. When she goes to his apartment to apologize for another missed date, she finds him in bed with another woman. He chases her out of the apartment to explain, but his explanations turn quickly to accusations— she’s frigid, emotionless, and he can’t remember the last time they had sex.
Alex does remember. It was two months ago, lasted a maximum of twelve minutes, and it was awful .
She tells him it’s over, but she doesn’t feel free, because the other woman is standing in the doorway, watching her with pity. Her professor. Her mentor. The woman she admired the most.
That betrayal hurts more than her ex-boyfriend’s cheating ever could.
She goes home to her apartment, pours herself a couple shots, and picks up a pen.
I’m such an idiot.
Remember when I told you that I started going out with that guy in my anatomy class? The one that wrote me that awful poem? Well, he’s an asshole. All men are assholes.
He’s been cheating on me for months and it’s apparently my fault because I wouldn’t have sex with him because I’m a frigid bitch.
I don’t even really feel bad about it honestly because… I never loved him. I don’t think I even liked him. But he liked me and I just thought...
Fuck. I don’t know what I thought. I just don’t know why I can’t make any relationship work.
What’s wrong with me?
She scratches out the last few lines furiously before crumpling the entire letter and throwing it into the garbage. She pulls on her jacket, heads to the bar and gets trashed.
She doesn’t remember how she gets home and everything spirals from there.
She’s on academic probation.
She’s not sure how it got to this point honestly. Somewhere along the road she stopped studying and started staying out later, going to bars and dancing with faceless people in darkened clubs under strobing lights. When she was drunk, with the bass pounding in her ears, she could forget for just a moment that she wasn’t good enough. That the fact that she’s in medical school should be enough for her mother to be proud of her. But no. It isn’t.
Eliza Danvers visits her daughters in National City and spends an entire two hour dinner praising Kara for her college newspaper article and commenting on how tired Alex looks.
She knows she shouldn’t have gone out for more drinks after dinner. She should have gone home, slept off the stress, taken initiative to turn her life around. But she doesn’t. Instead she slumps onto a barstool at the bar near campus and drinks until the bartender cuts her off.
Her head is swimming and she doesn’t even intend to drive, she just wants to sleep it off in her car, but when she hears the siren and a police officer steps out of her cruiser, she knows it doesn’t matter why the keys are in her hand.
The officer gives her some water and a sympathetic look before locking her in the drunk tank.
She’s not sure how long she sits there, but she’s stone cold sober by the time a tall man in a suit approaches her cell and introduces himself as Hank Henshaw. She recognizes him from so many years before and she marvels at how he hasn’t seemed to age since that night he gave a much younger Alex his business card.
He offers her a second chance and this time she takes it.
The DEO provides a space for her to flourish, to learn about who she is and what she’s capable of. It’s hard work, certainly— she has to train for an entire year before she is even allowed to go out into the field— but she finally feels like she’s doing something for herself. She excels in weapons practice and outperforms her fellow trainees in fitness drills, impressing her instructors, and the scientific opportunities are vast. Agent Henshaw even gives her an entire lab of her very own to work in.
But it’s Agent Finley— the intelligent, skilled, very female Agent Finley— who truly shows her what it is to be herself.
It starts in target practice.
Alex finds her pulse quickening as the other agent slips behind her to help her adjust her grip and when Finley’s hand lingers on her bicep, the area tingles. Finley corners her in the corridor afterwards and asks her to dinner, armed with nothing more than a confident smile and a bit of swagger and Alex can’t find it in herself to say no. She doesn’t even think of it as a date until Finley kisses her outside her apartment. She spends the night staring up at her ceiling, her head spinning.
The morning after she sleeps with a woman for the first time, she feels like a light has been switched on in her brain. Somehow everything seems clearer, and she thinks that while Vicky Donahue was so wrong about so many things, she may have been right about this. Alex Danvers is definitely a lesbian.
They date for a few months, and it’s better than any relationship she’s ever had with a man, but Alex still finds herself earning the ire of her partner. While all DEO agents spend a lot of time at headquarters, Alex finds herself the most frequent fixture in the labs and the training rooms, and eventually Agent Finley grows tired of Alex cancelling plans in favor of just one more experiment, babe . She breaks up with Alex over text message and Alex spends the night at her sister’s apartment, sobbing over pizza and potstickers about how even though she’s finally able to be herself, there’s still something missing.
Kara is sweet and accepting, but Alex doesn’t feel much better when she gets home.
She dates around a little after the breakup. There’s the graduate student at National City University that attended her guest lecture on xenobiology and the barista at her favorite coffee shop. Both women are fun to be around, and it certainly feels much more natural with them than her college boyfriend, but the nature of her job makes it difficult to hold honest conversations. The nurse she sees for two months even accuses her of hiding things after she sees the bruises left over from training. She can’t go to any of them when she has a rough day. Can’t share the burden of the horrors she’s seen.
Instead, Maggie becomes her confidant once again.
I honestly thought I’d figured it out, this whole… relationship thing. I mean, I actually like the women I date. That’s a nice change. But it’s just hard when I end up having to leave halfway through dinner to attend to a DEO emergency. If I were a doctor, I could easily tell them I had to perform life saving surgery and most women would totally understand that. But even though I have a cover story, “Sorry babe, I have important FBI business I can’t talk about,” gets old.
The only one I can really talk to is you.
It’s funny, I work with the NCPD sometimes and I think about you. I wonder if you ever became a cop, like you wanted. It’s weird to think about the idea that one day we might cross paths and I’d never even know it’s you. I’ve thought about using DEO resources to find you. It’d be easy enough to just look for a Margarita born in Blue Springs, Nebraska. But… I don’t know. It didn’t seem right. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just that it’s been so long, Maggie. You’ve probably forgotten all about your penpal Alex.
I’ve long ago accepted that I might never know what happened to you, but I hope you’re doing okay.
Her hands are shaking.
She’d downed a glass of scotch at Kara’s apartment when she was finally released from the scene (her FBI credentials had been incredibly helpful in that respect), but she was still on edge.
When she was on that plane, before she looked out the window to see her sister flying by, she had been sure that she was about to die. She’d had close calls on the job before, but nothing quite like this.
She remembers it all in vivid, technicolor detail: the pit that had formed in her stomach as the engines lost power, the cabin lights flickering on and off, the man next to her hyperventilating, sobbing into the phone to his wife. She remembers thinking about her mom back in Midvale. Was she watching the news? Did Alex even remember to call and tell her that she would be in Geneva? She remembers worrying about what Kara would do without her. Who would her sister go to for fashion advice before a date if she were gone? Who would look after her? She remembers wondering if she would be buried next to her father.
Alex collapses down onto the couch in her apartment, head in her hands. Tomorrow is going to be a shitshow. She knows it. She can already hear the lecture from her mother. How could you let your sister expose herself like that? It wouldn’t matter that she was on the plane. It would still somehow be her fault. Not to mention the inevitable scrambling they would need to do at the DEO to ensure that no one on that plane was able to identify their savior as a mild-mannered CatCo assistant.
Director Henshaw had arrived at the scene with a small team to interview her fellow passengers and survey the wreckage. Alex had been ordered home to rest, but she knows she won’t be getting much sleep tonight. Her mind is on overdrive.
Not only did she have to worry about the fact that the DEO was fairly certain that she was the intended target of the attack, she was grappling with the fact that her last thoughts before she thought she was about to die weren’t about her sister or her mom or even her dad.
They were about Maggie. The girl— well, woman now— that she still considered to be her best friend.
That had to mean something.
It does have to mean something, doesn’t it Maggie?
Her writing is hurried. Frantic. Her heart is pounding with the realization that she’s on the precipice of discovery. She doesn’t even address the letter, foregoing the customary Dear Maggie in favor of a complete emotional dump onto one of the pages in her notebook.
Why do I always think about you? Why are you always in my thoughts? Why can I never even walk past a police precinct without wondering if you’re in there?
I think… fuck. I think I might be in love with you, Maggie. I think I always have been. It’s why I can’t manage to make a relationship work. You made me feel special, listened to, happy. No woman could ever compare to that.
When I was on that plane tonight, one of my only regrets was never finding you. Never finding out what happened to you. Where you were. Who you became.
You weren’t just my best friend, you were my first love and I’ve just never been able to let you go. It’s why I can’t stop writing to you. I love you and you’ll never know.
And it feels almost freeing to say that, honestly, because I feel like... now that I’ve said it, maybe I can start to move on.
I don’t know.
Alex exhales a shaky breath. She isn’t sure when she started crying, but her cheeks are wet and her chest is heaving and all she wants is to have another drink and sleep until tomorrow afternoon.
She folds up the unfinished letter, presses a shaky kiss to it, and heads toward her bedroom, stopping only to deposit it in the box under her bed.
Detective Maggie Sawyer is the most gorgeous woman Alex has ever seen.
When she stands up to her on that runway, hands on her hips with her head cocked to the side, Alex is intrigued, but it’s when she sees the dimples that she nearly swoons.
She’s confident and beautiful and Alex isn’t quite sure if she wants to punch her or kiss her.
It seems that she has made just as good an impression on the detective, because she calls her up a few hours later with an address and an offer of a free drink, and when she gets there, Maggie seems just as giddy as she feels.
Normally Alex would feel on edge surrounded by so many off-worlders, but with Maggie, she feels safe. It’s ironic, she thinks, that she seems to be so drawn to women named Maggie. But she doesn’t have time to unpack that particular issue. Not when there’s still a possible Kryptonian on the loose.
A Roltikkon waitress— Maggie’s ex , her brain helpfully supplies— takes their orders and stalks back to the bar in a huff.
“You know, I don’t strictly date aliens. For the record.” Maggie relaxes a bit now that the waitress is out of view and focuses her attention back on Alex. “I do like them more than most humans though.”
Truthfully, Alex has to agree. Although she can’t really admit to this detective that her sister is an alien. Instead she asks, “Why?”
Maggie’s eyes get this faraway look— a look Alex recognizes from all of those late nights spent on the roof with Kara, listening to stories of her homeworld— but in an instant, she’s back, her mouth quirking up into a wry grin. “I can relate to them I guess. Growing up a non-white, non-straight girl in Blue Springs, Nebraska, I might as well have been from Mars.”
Alex nearly chokes on her drink.
Blue Springs, Nebraska.
She’s only known one other person from that town. A town she’s researched thoroughly. She knows how many people live there. Knows the odds.
She hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up when she first saw Maggie on the tarmac. It could have been a coincidence, seeing a dimpled cop named Maggie. Sure there was a resemblance to the faded photograph she still kept in her wallet, but she had been able to rationalize it as her brain wanting to see Maggie everywhere since her revelation. That’s all it was.
But this was too much to be a coincidence. This has to be her. Her Maggie.
The detective’s smile twists into a small frown. “I guess I read you wrong, Danvers. I didn’t take you for a homophobe.”
“No!” Alex hurries to reassure her. “You didn’t read me wrong. I’m also gay. I just—” She pauses, searching for an excuse. She couldn’t very well tell Maggie that she knew her. She wasn’t ready to face the truth of why they lost contact yet. “I never thought about it like that. Um. Having that in common. With aliens.”
Thankfully Maggie seems to accept that, as her eyes soften again and she leans in closer. “Well, welcome to the club then.”
Their partnership feels natural, which is a big deal to Alex, since she’s never really been one for partners that aren’t her super-powered sister. From what she’s heard from the other cops at Maggie’s precinct, it seems to be the same for the detective as well.
They work together seamlessly, and when the job is done, they meet up afterwards at the alien bar to shoot pool and share stories over drinks. Each night, Alex learns more and more about Detective Maggie Sawyer and each night, she becomes more and more convinced that she and her penpal are indeed the same person.
And despite the fact that she knows she should be cautious, she falls for Maggie all over again.
“A donut? You never eat sugar in the middle of the day. What’s wrong?”
Alex leans up against the hallway of Kara’s apartment building, a pink box of donuts balanced on one arm.
“I’m confused about something,” she mumbles around a bite of chocolate glaze.
Kara unlocks the door and waves her sister over to the couch. Alex sets the box on the coffee table and finishes the last bite of her donut, offering the rest to Kara. Kara accepts a jelly filled donut gratefully and flops down next to Alex.
“Okay, so what’s up?”
“I just. I wanted to talk to you about something.” Alex focuses on the open box on the table. She counts the sprinkles, trying to figure out where to begin.
Kara sets a hand gently on her knee. “Alex, you can tell me. Whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back.”
“Okay, um. You know Detective Sawyer?”
“Oh yeah! Your cop friend.” Kara’s eyes turn stormy. “Is she giving you trouble? Does Supergirl need to rough her up?”
“No, no. We’re fine.” Alex pulls her legs up onto the couch, fidgeting a little to get comfortable. She needs to go about this another way. “Her uh. Her name is Maggie.”
“Okay.” Kara stretches out the last syllable, unsure where her sister is going.
“No, Kara. Her name is Maggie .” Alex stresses. “She’s from Nebraska. Blue Springs, Nebraska”
“Oh.” Realization dawns on Kara as her eyes widen. “ Oh .”
“Yeah, oh .”
“Wait, so you mean… Detective Sawyer is…?”
“I mean, I think?” Alex shrugs helplessly. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Oh my god, Alex!” Kara whacks Alex’s knee repeatedly with her hand. “Alex! You found her! That’s awesome!”
“Why aren’t you excited?”
“It’s complicated.” Alex shrugs. “It’s… There’s something else. Something, about me.”
Kara rolls her eyes. “Are you going to come out to me again? Because that’s what this sounds like.”
“It’s not that.” She pulls one of the throw pillows into her arms and hugs it tight. “You know I… wrote to her. All these years.”
Kara nods and Alex knows she’s thinking of that night they packed up Alex’s room before she left Midvale.
“I didn’t know why, for so long, but now I…” Alex bites her lip. “I know I had— well, have— feelings for her.”
“Yeah. Those feelings.”
“Oh, Alex.” Kara’s voice is dripping with pity. “Do you know if she likes you too?”
“I don’t know. We’ve been flirting but…” She swallows thickly. She knows that Maggie might like her now— the Alex that she has become— but it’s obvious that she doesn’t remember her from before. Doesn’t remember all the secrets they shared.
“Does she know that it’s you?” Kara asks softly. “Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know, Kara.” Alex tightens her hold on the pillow, trying to hold in her emotions. “How would I even tell her that? ‘Hey Maggie, do you remember the girl you wrote to when you were younger? That was me and also I’ve been in love with you since then.’” She scoffs. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound pathetic.”
“Aw Alex, no! It’s not pathetic. It’s romantic !”
Alex tries not to roll her eyes at that. Of course Kara would see it that way. She’s been obsessed with romantic comedies since she first learned about them.
“I just don’t know what to do. She’s just so smart, and tough, and beautiful.” Her eyes well up with tears. “She’s just so beautiful. Even more so now.”
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do.” Kara places both her hands on Alex’s shoulders. “You are going to call her up right now and meet her in the bar and then you’re going to tell her how you feel. You can do this.”
“I can.” Alex chuckles wetly. “And I don’t even need you to fly me there this time.”
Grinning, Kara pulls Alex into a near-bone-breaking hug. “Go get your girl.”
Maggie is already at the bar when Alex arrives.
She’s wearing a white button down shirt and she’s leaning over the pool table and Alex’s mouth is suddenly very dry.
All she has to do is go up to Maggie and tell her who she is. If can face down an alien three times her size without blinking, she can do this.
Kara has been sending her encouraging text messages all day, reassuring her that there must have been a good reason for Maggie to have stopped writing. Alex knows Kara is probably right, but she can’t help those tiny tendrils of fear that creep into her brain.
Maggie looks up from the pool table and her face breaks into a wide smile when she sees Alex, a fact that makes her heart swell.
She can do this.
“Danvers, hey! I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Maggie leans up against the pool table as Alex approaches and her casual demeanor is making it so hard for Alex to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s thankful for the dim lighting in the bar, masking the flush that she can feel creeping up her face at Maggie’s attention.
“Yeah, sorry I got a bit waylaid by my sister.”
“No problem. I think I’m early anyway.” Maggie waves it off. “I believe you won last time, right?”
“I’ve won the last four times,” Alex teases, enjoying the way Maggie’s nose crinkles when she laughs. “Which means drinks are on you. You’re not as good as you think you are.”
“I think you’ll find that I’m plenty good when I want to be.”
“If you wanted to buy me a drink, you could have just done so.”
Maggie is close enough that Alex can smell her perfume and it’s absolutely intoxicating. They’ve been flirting back and forth for a few weeks, but it hasn’t gone further than that, even though all Alex can think about is what it would feel like to kiss Maggie. The tension is simmering, nearly at a boiling point, and if Alex doesn’t do something about it tonight, she’s not sure she’ll survive. She just needs to be honest with Maggie first.
It’s just so hard to think when Maggie keeps looking at her like that.
“Well then, Danvers. What are you having tonight?”
Maggie turns to make for the bar, but Alex’s hand shoots out, catching her by the arm. Alex’s body moves quicker than her brain because before she knows it, her hands are framing Maggie’s face and they’re kissing and oh . This is what it should feel like .
All of her nerve endings are on fire, crackling with energy. No kiss has ever felt like this. She pulls back briefly for air, and is about to kiss Maggie again when she feels a hand on her chest.
Alex jerks back and all the hope and joy that filled her body only seconds ago is replaced with fear.
“I’m. I’m sorry.” She stumbles over her words and her feet as she hastily makes her way towards the exit of the bar. She’s dimly aware of Maggie calling after her, but she can’t make out the words over the ringing in her ears.
She hops on her motorcycle and through some miracle, manages to reign in the tears until she reaches Kara’s apartment. Kara ushers her inside and holds her as she breaks.
She was an idiot to have ever thought that the flirting actually meant something. Of course it didn’t. Maggie doesn’t want her.
She didn’t want her when they were fourteen, so why would she want her now?