I thought I'd try a different kind of writing style. I probably won't stick with it, as it's not really my thing. But it was fun to detour for a bit.

Please not the characters aren't mine.

Enjoy!


Today started out like any other day. I mean, yeah, I may have been crankier than normal, and, sure, Maura might have been acting more… Maura-like …than normal. But, I mean, we all have those days, right?

You know, it's not like I asked for that chick to hit on me at the coffee shop. It happens all the time, and, frankly, I hate it. It's bad enough that I have to take the ribbing and out-and-out insults the other cops throw at me all the time just for being the only female detective in homicide without having to keep batting off people with a stick.

Ma says I should just be flattered, but what I want just to do is my job. I want to be left alone. I have everything I need. Why mess up something that's not broken? Right?

So, I went in to tell Maura about this chick in the coffee shop that hit on me and how I told her to buzz off. I get so tired of telling people that I'm not gay.

Maura knows. I complain about it all the time. She's great at listening.

She sits there in her perfect outfit with her perfect hair and perfect makeup, and she smiles gently at me and tells me that she can somewhat understand my frustration, but she fails to see why I can't see the situation as the compliment that it is. One time, she even told me she could completely understand why a woman would want to date me. I told her she'd had too much to drink.

But, Maura, she tells me stuff like that all the time. She told me I was gorgeous once…

Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. So, I go down to the morgue to give Maura her coffee and tell her about this chick, and Maura goes off google talking about the history of homosexual attraction, and I'm standing there next to her, and all I can think about is something I don't want to think about.

All I can think about are her lips. That's it. She's googling away, and I'm staring at her lips and thinking about how perfect they are. All of the sudden, I'm wondering what they taste like.

Next thing I know, I'm kissing her. I'm kissing my best friend, a woman.

What's crazier? She's kissing me back!

There we are standing in the middle of the morgue with a body on the dead people's table waiting for the chief medical examiner to cut it open and pull it apart, and I've got my arms wrapped around the chief medical examiner, and we're kissing.

I don't know what the fuck happened. I mean, I really don't know what came over me, you know?

I swear to God, I'm not a lesbian. I don't do adventurous. But, then, I'm kissing Maura Isles, and that's pretty damned adventurous when you figure that I'm doing it in the middle of the morgue where any smuck can just walk in on us.

When we pulled apart, all I could do is think about doing it again… and then some other stuff started flashing through me head that 1) You should never think about your best friend doing with you and 2) I've never thought of about a woman before… ever.

So, when she looks up at me and those amazing hazel eyes of hers are pretty much telling me she's thinking the same thing, something tumbles out of my mouth that I never thought I'd ever say to a woman, and especially my best friend. I say, "Why didn't we do that sooner?"

She says, "I've been waiting on you, Jane."

Waiting on me?

That's when it hits me. I've been flirting with her for months now, and she must be the most patient woman alive. Because, if I were her waiting on me, I would have strangled me by now for being so freaking clueless.

What do I tell her? I say, "I'm sorry."

Why the hell am I apologizing? I don't apologize. Jane Rizzoli does not apologize. But, then again, Jane Rizzoli doesn't kiss girls, either. So, who am I, and what's going on here?

She says, "It's okay, Jane. I understand." She says it in that way that always makes me feel all… mushy and warm and hot and bothered and…

That's when I realize I haven't just been flirting with her. I've wanted her for a long time, too. Like, the realization, the actually getting a grip on the idea, yeah… it struck me.

Dumbfounded. That's what Maura would say.

"What now?" I ask her, but I'm not letting her go. She feels way too good to let go of, and that should scare the shit out of me since, you know, I'm not supposed to be a lesbian. But, I'm quickly settling on the fact that I don't really care.

"We finish our work for the day and then go somewhere more private to talk about this." Of course, she's the reasonable one here. I wanted to do other things, but, she's right.

"Okay, I'll meet you at your place tonight?" What am I saying here? I'm pretty sure that what I was saying and what I was actually saying were two different things, but I'm not even sure I'm the one still talking about this point. I'm pretty sure other parts of my body besides my brain are talking for me.

"Yes. Bring Joe and an overnight bag. It may be a long evening." She gives me that dimpled smile, the one I only see… when she's with me.

"Okay, see you in a few hours." I kiss her… again, and then I leave.

Now, I'm sitting on her couch with a beer in my hand. She keeps a supply of the kind I like for me at her place. I'm sitting here, watching her sip her wine as she sits on the other end of the sofa, and all I want to do is lick that drop of wine off her lips. It's killing me.

Everything is driving me crazy. What's worse, the conversation we're having isn't scaring me or pissing me off. We're talking about how we're attracted to each other, and that at least makes us bi, and how we've been flirting with each other for months, and how I've been in denial, and how she's been waiting, and how much we want each other.

I'm not a lesbian. That's all I can think, but, then, I know that I want my best friend, who is a chick. So, that means she's right, and I have to be at least bi.

But, what do I do?

So, I put down the beer bottle; she puts down the wine glass.

"Jane?"

"I'm not running from this, Maur, and I don't want to screw anything we have up." I mean it. I don't want to fuck this up.

"You won't. We're farther along than I think you realize." What the hell is that supposed to mean?

It doesn't matter. She's kissing me again. We're kissing each other again, and that's all that matters.

Tomorrow, it's not going to start off as a normal day. Tomorrow, I'm probably going to have a lot of things to think about and a girlfriend.

No, I already have a girlfriend.

Tomorrow, I get to deal with the fact that I now know I have a girlfriend.

I'm surprisingly okay with that… the girlfriend thing, I mean.

Right now… all that stuff I shouldn't think about or want to do with my best friend? Yeah, I'm going to go do that with my girlfriend.