Five Ways It Could Happen, and The One Way It Did
A romance in 6 Acts
It could happen because of fear.
Her life was dangerous, and by extension so was his. It could be injury and blood, or simply the sight of a gun waving in his face.
It could have been because in those moments she faced a future without him, and the thought scared her straight to her bones.
It could have been because he saw the flash in her eyes, the loss, the truth she didn't bother to hide.
It could happen because of fear, when physical connection is the only thing that could wear down the sharp edge of panic, but it wouldn't.
---
It could happen in a fit of anger.
When she wagged her finger in his face, making him regret every stupid move he'd made in the last hour (a great many).
Her buttons were usually buried deep, but he had pinpoint accuracy and could drive her straight to crazy without even trying.
He could have ignored an order, taken the wrong picture, put them both in harm's way.
It wouldn't matter, because anger could be passion and it could push them over the precipice into rapture.
It could happen in a fit of anger, when snapping his neck was a definite possibility, but it wouldn't.
---
It could happen as a celebration.
No matter how long you are in law enforcement, the thrill of getting the bad guy would never get old.
Serving justice is a heady feeling, even at its most complicated, and beers after work could add just enough lubrication to be dangerous.
Their flirting often became racier at the close of a case, when adrenaline was high and she beat his ass soundly at darts.
It could happen as a celebration, when they drunkenly collided one too many times, but it wouldn't.
---
It could happen in sorrow.
The specter of her mother was one she was unwilling and unable to step from beneath.
Grief caught her off-guard sometimes, and she used to find solace in his books.
She would never admit it now, certainly not to him, but the books no longer offered the comfort they used to.
How could they, when she had the real thing?
He often lent an ear, a shoulder, a one-armed hug. He lent a terribly sweet daughter and a flamboyant but gentle mother.
Sometimes he read to her, although she never allowed him to read one of his.
It could happen in a valley of grief, when she was vulnerable, but it wouldn't.
---
It could happen on a dare.
One ups-manship was their courtship, wagering their foreplay.
He would push hard, she would push back.
Double dog dare, and they could end in a sweaty pretzel on his writing desk.
No time for regret, because it's only a game. A game they both win.
It could happen on a dare, something to be ashamed of, but it wouldn't.
---
In the end, it would happen on a normal day, between normal cases.
He would mock, she would grin.
Their shoulders would brush as they sat on the edge of the fountain, enjoying hot dogs and sharing a coke.
He would say something ridiculous and she would laugh.
Her laughter would be pure and unfettered, something she would learn to do more easily because he was there.
He would be so taken by the light in her eyes, the ease between them. He would understand that this - this right here - was what he had been searching for and avoided for most of his adult life.
He would not be able to help himself, and he would catch her lips with his.
Under the sun, in late spring, he would kiss her for the first time.
He would be surprised that she did not deck him.
It would happen because it was meant to.
And they wouldn't regret it.
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