Burn the Brightest (2 page)

"Of course," Jo said. "I'm here to teach at the naval academy for a couple of years. I'm replacing their old Russian instructor."

"A fellow teacher."

Jo shrugged. "Kind of. Though it's not much like your kind of teaching, I don't think."

Edith echoed her shrug, at a loss for what to say. Even in casual clothes, there was something about Jo that said military—the way she stood, maybe—and it was just enough of a reminder.

Jo shifted from one foot to the other, looking around the room. "Maybe you could give me some tips, though. I mean, I haven't exactly done anything like this before."

"Like you said, it's pretty different," Edith said. "I don't know that I'd be much help."

"I'm sure you would," Jo said, full of confidence. "I never even went to a Russian class; my step-father taught me. It's weird being on the other side."

"You pick it up," Edith said, drawn in despite herself. "I'm sure the other instructors would be happy to advise you."

"Yeah, but I'd rather have you advise me," Jo said, and this time her smile was something different, sweet and flirtatious.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Edith said as firmly as she could. Maybe she should have said okay the last time Tara offered to set her up, and then she'd be dating and less inclined to develop a dumb attraction to a naval officer just because she smiled at her.

Jo took a half-step back, her hands up in surrender, her smile unfading. "If you say so." She turned a little, scanning the crowd. "I'll just have to think of something else."

Edith had figured it was a joke, more or less, Jo testing the water where she was safe to do it. So it wasn't a surprise when Jo didn't try to make contact, when they didn't run into each other again.

She told herself that she wasn't disappointed.

Edith was willing to admit, though, that she wasn't fooling herself quite as well as she would have liked when, two weeks after the lecture, she was sitting in the ice rink parking lot listening to her car sputter and refuse to start, and a familiar hand tapped at her window.

"You stalking me?" she asked, rolling it down.

Jo leaned on the open window and grinned. "Nah. Private lesson. You got breakdown coverage?"

Edith laughed when Jo raised an eyebrow, and then explained, "Usually this is the part where the knight in shining armor sweeps in and offers to fix it for me."

"Communications officer," Jo said. "I could probably get your radio going, but that's about it."

"Now she tells me," Edith grumbled half-heartedly. She pulled the key from the ignition and started to open the door as Jo stepped back. "I hope the rink's got a phone book."

"You don't have the number in your cell?" Jo asked.

"I don't have breakdown coverage," Edith admitted. "This thing's been pretty reliable."

"Seriously?" Jo said. "Wow, huh, that's kind of optimistic. Okay, hang on, let me run in and let them know I'm here so my instructor doesn't leave."

"I thought you said you didn't know anything about cars," Edith called after her as she set off across the parking lot.

Jo turned, walking backward. "I might have a few tricks."

Ten minutes later, Edith's car was humming happily, and Jo was wiping grease from her hands with a smug grin. "A few tricks, right," Edith said.

"Beginner's luck," Jo replied, shrugging. She tapped the closed hood, and then leaned against it.

"I owe you," Edith said, suspecting she knew what was coming, but unable not to say it. Some childhood conditioning just couldn't be broken, and the need to be polite was apparently part of that.

"I want to see the new Star Trek movie, but no one I know will go with me," Jo said.

"You couldn't tempt them with the prospect of attractive young women in very short uniforms?" Edith asked, surprised.

Jo shrugged, both hands out. "Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. Say, you wouldn't be tempted by attractive young women in very short uniforms, would you?"

Edith caught her eye and held it. "Something like that," she said.

"How can Spock not be your favorite?" Jo demanded as they shuffled out of the theater in the midst of the crush. "He's like the classic academic."

"You only say that because you haven't spent much time with an actual academic," Edith assured her. She ran one finger under her left eye again, cursing her decision to actually bother with eye makeup for once, sure she had giveaway streaks. It wasn't like she'd forgotten that Star Trek was all about what was basically the Navy in space. That wasn't the problem, not when it was so clearly fiction. She just hadn't expected the damn movie to start with Kirk Senior's more or less on screen death. At least Jo hadn't seemed to notice her turning her head away to wipe her eyes.

"Come on, then," Jo persisted. "Favorite character—you can't be a proper fan without declaring an affiliation."

"You know, I'm starting to see why no one wanted to see this with you," Edith said. "You're a little obsessive."

Jo shrugged, grinning and unrepentant. "It's Star Trek; I'm allowed. Favorite."

"I liked Admiral Pike," Edith said. She felt Jo looking at her, intense and private in the shifting crowd, and twitched one shoulder in an almost shrug. "He was a nice guy."

Jo was silent for a moment as Edith concentrated on moving forward and not looking at her. Then she shifted closer, tucking one arm through Edith's and squeezing. "He was," she said softly. "I'm glad he didn't die."

Edith nodded, her throat suddenly tight. She expected Jo to let go, and was oddly pleased when she didn't.

"I still liked Uhura best," Jo said suddenly. "And not because she was wearing a short skirt."

Edith laughed, even though it wavered a little. "You like her because she's just like you?"

"What? Hot, smart, and sexy with a talented tongue?"

"A linguist," Edith corrected, rolling her eyes.

"I like mine better," Jo said.

They finally spilled out into the main entryway, and Jo slipped her arm free, stepping back to ‘just friends' distance.

"I bet you did," Edith said, but it sounded weird, like the pause in conversation had gone on slightly too long for the banter to keep going.

Jo smiled in response, but it was almost distracted, and she was scanning the room rather than looking directly at Edith. "You want to get out of here? Go for a drink someplace?"

Edith hesitated, tempted. Except that wouldn't be fair, to either of them. "I can't, sorry. I've got to be up early."

Jo took a breath, looking like she was going to push, but something on Edith's face must have changed her mind, because she just nodded. "I'll walk you to your car."

As they walked across the lot in a silence that wasn't quite comfortable, Edith cursed herself. It had been a good evening, like a slightly sexually charged platonic friendship, and it was enough to make her realize how long it'd been since she'd been out with anyone other than Tara. Enough to make her think that maybe she could get comfortable enough to have a friendship with a naval officer, especially one who was attached to the naval academy and wasn't out risking her life.

They stopped at her car, and she toyed with her keys, reluctant to say goodnight so abruptly.

Jo patted the hood, much like she'd done at the ice rink. "Everything still okay?"

"So far," Edith agreed. "And now I know who to call if it breaks down again."

Jo nodded. She ran her hand along the curve of the driver's door until it rested on the roof, bringing her closer to Edith. As Edith watched, she glanced around the parking lot. They were half-hidden, Edith realized, by a Jeep parked a couple of spaces down, and far enough from a light to be in shadow.

Jo's hand on her shoulder made her jump, distracted her from Jo leaning in, so the only thing she could do was turn her head, Jo's kiss landing on her cheek rather than where it had obviously been intended.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, keeping her head down.

Jo drew away, her hand slipping from Edith's shoulder. "No, I'm sorry," she said, collected as always. "I shouldn't have presumed. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," Edith assured her. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, I mean," she corrected, not ready to touch the other part yet. "I just... can't. I'm sorry."

She ducked away, unlocking her car and climbing in, and then rolling down the window at the last moment. Jo was still standing there, her hands loose at her sides, her expression unreadable in the shadow. "I had a good time," Edith said. "Thanks for asking me."

Jo smiled then. "Me, too. Maybe we could get together again?"

"Yeah," Edith said, against her better judgment. "I'd like that."

In her rear view mirror, she watched Jo watch her drive away, right up until she couldn't see her anymore.

"Explain something to me," Tara said on Monday morning, once again leaning in Edith's open doorway. Edith tipped back in her chair and contemplated maybe buying cookies or something for these morning chats. "It was you who told me not to try to set you up with Jo, right?"

"Yeah," Edith said, resigned.

"Okay." Tara pushed away from the door and came to sit in one of Edith's visitor chairs. "And you haven't recently sustained a head injury or otherwise lost your memory?"

"Not that I can remember."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Just checking. Because Dan says you and Jo went to the movies Friday night."

"You and I go to the movies," Edith pointed out. "I'm fairly sure I'd have noticed if we were dating."

"We can't date, I'm straight," Tara said. Her smile fell, and she leaned forward, her arms folded on Edith's desk. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Edith said, sighing. "I guess."

"Wanna try again with more conviction?" Tara asked.

Edith shrugged, wishing she'd gotten Tara to close the door. "I like her."

Tara frowned sympathetically. "That is okay, you know," she said, oddly gentle.

"She's in the Navy," Edith said. "It's really not."

Not that it stopped her from saying yes when Jo called a couple of days later, inviting her to a lecture on local quilting traditions. Or from agreeing to have coffee after, sitting opposite Jo in the back of the tiny coffee shop and trying to remember, as Jo sprawled back in the low leather chair, that she wasn't just any other young lecturer, even though she sounded like one.

It wasn't until they were back at her car, saying goodnight, that she realized maybe she wasn't the only one having trouble, because Jo was shifting subtly closer, leaning her weight against the driver's side door. This time, Edith saw the kiss coming early enough to put one hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Don't," she said quietly.

Jo blew out a slow breath, looking away. "Can I ask something?" she said. "And then I'll drop it, I promise."

"Okay," Edith said cautiously.

Jo turned her head then, enough to catch Edith's eye, even in the dim light of the parking lot. "I don't think I'm misreading the signals here, so—is there a reason you won't let me kiss you? Because I'm fairly sure you're not the one whose job says you can't."

Edith considered jumping on the implied excuse—that she didn't want to risk Jo's career—for a moment, but that wasn't really fair. "I don't date people in the military," she said.

Jo blinked. "Okay, that's... not what I was expecting you to say. Can I ask why?"

"No," Edith said, stepping away. "I'm sorry."

Jo took a deep breath, but she was smiling. "I can respect that," she said. "All of it, I guess. Friends, though?"

Jo was an instructor, Edith rationalized. Being friends was safe enough. "Yeah," she agreed.

Jo's smile turned a little wicked at the edges. "And friends can hug..." she said, opening her arms.

"They can," Edith said, unsure.

"Great," Jo said, and then pulled her close.

It was only a brief contact, hardly enough for Edith to get her arms up and squeeze Jo back, but it was still more than enough for her to catch the scent of Jo's perfume, to absorb how she felt against Edith's body.

Jo was blushing a little when they parted, though it was barely noticeable in the dark. "Goodnight," she said, polite and almost formal.

Edith resisted the stupid urge to shake her hand. "Goodnight," she echoed.

Once she had a reason, it turned out Jo was very good at keeping to a perfectly platonic, friends-only relationship. She didn't flirt, she didn't try to kiss Edith, she didn't even hug her. They only touched when it was acceptable friends touching. Jo never stood too close to her. She never mentioned anything close to a hint that either one of them might be attracted to women, let alone attracted to each other.

It drove Edith crazy.

They'd be sitting in the movie theater and she'd find herself sliding her hand over the armrest to touch Jo's arm. She'd lean in as they were saying goodnight, waiting for a kiss that wasn't coming. She'd find herself swallowing down flirtatious remarks over coffee, or on the phone, and no amount of reminding herself that Jo was Navy helped.

Tara thought it was hilarious, mostly. "I'm just saying," she said, when Edith came back from skating one Friday, apparently more flushed than could be accounted for by exercise, though Edith thought that was a lie. "Who knew all it took was one smart, pretty sailor to knock you over?"

"I'm not knocked over," Edith said, shifting three separate stacks of essays in an attempt to find her lecture notes.

"Please. You get this dreamy look in your eyes for hours after you've seen her."

"I do not," Edith said firmly, sure she—not Tara—was right. It didn't matter how much she liked someone, she didn't do dreamy. "Anyway, you're one to talk. I actually heard two of your students trying to figure out why you were so happy the day after you stayed over at Dan's the first time."

Tara shrugged, unrepentant. "What can I say?"

"As little as possible, if the topic is his sexual prowess."

"I'm just saying—"

"Oh, wow, is that the time?" Edith said, spotting and grabbing her file. "I'll be late. Close the door when you leave."

Tara's laughter followed her down the corridor.