Chapter Text
The notion had been swarming in her brain like honey bees around a hive since Bradley had dropped her coffee cup on the pavement the day before. It had been years since she’d kissed a woman. Back then, the person who’d captured her attention was a bartender at a honky tonk in Wheeling known for their stiff drinks and dart tournaments. Roxy was a slender woman with naturally curly hair who wore Wranglers with a white tank top over a lacy black bra. She was a good conversationalist who often poured drinks just the way Bradley liked them—on the house. She knew the attractive bartender just wanted to keep her bellied up to the bar just a little longer when the free drinks started flowing towards the end of the evening. They’d kissed once in the back alley after Roxy’s shift, but it didn’t live up to the hype Bradley had anticipated.
Seven years later in the back seat of a sedan, her heart pounds as she considers kissing Laura Peterson. Laura’s preference for women was no secret—she’d been outed in the late 90s and became the first out lesbian news reporter in the country. Bradley had followed Laura’s career over the years, though she never quite had the self-awareness to identify why she’d been attracted to Laura in the first place other than her professional reporting style. After all, Bradley didn’t define herself as gay; she didn’t define herself as anything.
Somewhere between 6th and 7th Avenue, Laura sits next to her with her usual calm demeanor while Bradley wonders if her heart might jump out of her chest.
“Do you mind if I ask a personal follow up question just between us?”
“Sure, you can ask me anything.” Bradley hopes the question will be more personal than professional.
Last night at the hotel bar, they’d begun talking about their younger years, but neither woman had the chance to ask the more burning questions before last call. Laura hoped to do just that in the back seat of the hired car.
She turns more fully towards Bradley. “Did you actually get vetted for this job?”
Bradley’s pulse quickens as she stares at her for a beat, then glances at her lips. It’s now or never. She lunges forward, kissing Laura while sucking in a deep breath through her nose. She pulls back, unable to determine what the other woman is thinking. “I’m sorry, I just…”
Laura places a hand on the side of Bradley’s head and returns the kiss, changing angles and relishing in the way her soft, supple lips feel. Just as Bradley’s hand moves around the back of Laura’s head to pull her closer, Laura leans her forehead against Bradley’s.
She closes her eyes, hand still resting over Bradley’s ear. “I can’t.”
“But you…” Bradley wrinkles her brow—she’d stopped kissing Laura and apologized only to be met with Laura’s lips on hers seconds later. “I thought…”
“If the circumstances were different, the outcome of this car ride would be as well.” Laura removes her hand and sits back, tugging at her sweater. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh, right…Of course, yes,” Bradley shakes her head, looks at her lap and fidgets with the ring on her finger, feeling like she just made a colossal mistake. “Sorry, I had no idea.”
“How could you have known?” Laura lifts her shoulders. “You and I hit it off yesterday; I enjoyed spending time with you. It’s not a total surprise something like this might’ve happened.”
She nods with her head still bowed, embarrassed for having planted an unwelcome kiss on the veteran reporter. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“For what it’s worth, I enjoyed it.” She lifts Bradley’s chin with two fingers until their eyes meet. “But I can’t, you know?” She didn’t regret participating in the kiss for a few seconds longer; besides, she’d pulled away before things spiraled out of control—something Laura could easily see happening with Bradley if she wasn’t in a committed relationship.
“Yeah.” Bradley’s lips quirk to the side and she hopes her cheeks don’t appear as red as they feel. “I had fun with you yesterday; I guess I just got caught up in that feeling.” She tucks a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear. “I also wanted to avoid your question.”
Laura smiles. “Like I said, your response stays between us.”
She tilts her head. “So, you knew I wasn’t vetted?”
“I figured as much, yes.” A laugh lingers in her chest. “Not that you haven’t held your own. I meant what I said in the parking lot—you’re a dynamo, Bradley. You don’t need coaching; just keep doing what you’re doing.”
The car stops and the driver opens his door.
“I really appreciate that.” Bradley smiles, then glances out the window to confirm they’ve arrived at the Archer Gray. “I guess this is my stop.”
“Even though I’m seeing someone…” Laura squeezes her knee. “That doesn’t mean we can’t hang out again, next time maybe not as a work assignment.”
Her smile becomes more pronounced. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good.” Laura grins as the driver opens the passenger door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Bradley doesn’t offer her number, but she’s certain someone as well-connected as Laura Peterson could get anyone’s digits within minutes.
Much to her consternation, Laura found Bradley’s kiss thrilling. On her walk to work, she touches her lips and grins. While she never expected Bradley to make such a bold move, she enjoyed it more than she probably should have. Laura had told the truth—she couldn’t take things further because she was seeing someone; however, she couldn’t prevent herself from acknowledging Bradley is as beautiful as she is intriguing. Laura did want to get to know her better, but a mere two weeks ago, she and Simone had decided to enter a monogamous relationship. Nevertheless, she found Bradley refreshingly honest and humble—traits she didn’t find in most women these days.
“Morning, Lisa.” She breezes into her office with two cups, placing one on her assistant’s desk. “The Coffee Hut has cinnamon lattes back on the menu.”
“My favorite.” Lisa smiles, grabbing the cup. “Thank you.”
Gordon appears by her side. “Where’s mine?”
Laura side-eyes him. “Since when do you drink coffee?”
“Never, but it’s the thought that counts.”
She reaches into her bag. “Diet Coke, then?”
“Just when I think I’ve cornered you…” He takes the can and grins. “You do something considerate like this.”
“Considerate is my middle name,” Laura replies through a satisfied grin before turning to her assistant. “I’d like to send Bradley Jackson a gift.”
“Anything particular in mind?” Lisa enquires.
She pulls out her phone, flashing a photo of what she’d discovered online. “I’ll write a note to send along with it.”
“Sounds good.” Lisa turns to her computer. “Anything else?”
She tucks the phone back in her pocket. “Get me Bradley’s cell phone number if you can.”
“I’m on it.”
“Thank you.”
Gordon begins walking down the hallway, pausing after two steps to wait for her. “Bradley was surprisingly good in Iowa.”
“Why surprisingly?” She agrees Bradley was a delightful surprise, but she’s curious to hear Gordon’s thoughts.
He shrugs. “She just seemed more in her element interviewing political pundits than reporting light-hearted news on The Morning Show.”
“I agree.” She leaves it at that—no sense waxing poetic about how much Bradley impressed her. “What’s on the agenda today?”
He runs down their list of meetings and interviews for the day, then Laura immediately dives into the first task of reading Deval Patrick’s bio. About three paragraphs in, her thoughts stray to Bradley and the way her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as if she were in a L’Oréal ad. Her smile, Laura thinks, is something to behold—perfectly straight, bright white teeth and supple lips that when spread wide enough, expose a dimple on her left cheek.
She sits back in her chair, tapping the top of a pen against her lips as she thinks about their kiss for what feels like the hundredth time in 24 hours. From observing Bradley in person and watching reels of her work, she figured Bradley was fearless, but she had no idea she’d be courageous enough to kiss her. As far as Laura knows, Bradley is straight—her name hadn’t been mentioned in the small lesbian community of broadcast journalists. Surely if Bradley liked women, she would’ve gotten wind of it. Laura acknowledges the kiss was mostly to hide her answer to the vetting question, but there were other means by which Bradley could’ve avoided a response.
There were no two ways about it—Bradley wanted to kiss her perhaps even before she laid one on her in the car. She refuses to examine her conscience too closely for fear of what it would reveal about her own desire, reminding herself of the commitment she made to Simone Moreau, the actress playing Nini in Moulin Rouge who’d captured her attention a few months ago.
Laura rolls her neck, hearing the tendons pop and reminding her she needs to schedule a massage soon. Someone knocks on the door, startling her musings.
She sits up straight, holding the desk to tuck herself in and hoping to appear as if she’s been knee deep in work. “Come in.”
Lisa pokes her head in. “I found the gift for Bradley, but I’m going to have to pick it up across town.”
“Thank you.” Laura opens a desk drawer. “I’ll write the note now.”
“Oh, and I just texted her mobile number to you.”
She smiles as she twits the top of her Mont Blanc pen. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Lisa closes the door, and Laura begins writing a note to the woman whom she’d been thinking about for the last 15 minutes.
Bradley walks back to her dressing room eager to be finished with the post-show meeting that lasted an hour longer than usual. Their coverage of Covid-19 is amping up and she knows she has her work cut out for her, learning how these types of viruses spread and finding out if there’s a vaccine in the works.
She turns to RJ as she places a hand on the doorknob. “Anything else before I leave?”
“I think that’s it for today,” he responds. “Oh, someone sent you a gift. I put it on your desk.”
Bradley steps inside and notices a sparkling blue bag with white tissue framing the opening. “Who’s it from?”
He shrugs. “No idea.”
She moves further into the room, then spins around. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, RJ.”
“Bright and early.” He shuts the door on his way out.
She peeks into the bag and plucks out a small envelope.
I meant what I said in Iowa—you’re a dynamo. Looking forward to getting to know you better.
Cheers,
Laura
Her heart swells as a smile takes over her face. Although she was self-conscious after kissing Laura, she hoped it wasn’t entirely one-sided. Laura could’ve pulled away immediately, saying she was seeing someone, but she kissed her back even after Bradley apologized. That wasn’t lost on her, and it filled her heart with something she couldn’t quite name. Was it glee? Anticipation? Desire?
She reaches into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Scotch. On the lower part of the ivory-colored label she reads the name: Dynamo Kiev. Bradley’s smile extends at the thoughtfulness of such a gift. If she had the gift bearer’s number, she would’ve texted to express her gratitude.
As Bradley changes clothes and prepares to leave, she thinks about what it might be like to hang out with the illustrious Laura Peterson. They’d had a good time in Iowa, especially at the hotel bar when they chatted and laughed over a couple Old Fashioneds. They probably could’ve stayed several more hours had it not been closing time. Perhaps if nothing else, Laura could become a new friend—Bradley didn’t have many close friends, so this, she thinks, could be good for her. The only thing nagging her is a deep and growing attraction to the enigmatic Laura Peterson.
Bradley arrives at home with the bag of Scotch dangling from her arm, wishing she could’ve erased Laura from her mind all day, knowing she’s in a relationship. She shuts the door and leans against it when her phone vibrates in her coat pocket. She pulls it out and sees a text message from an unknown number.
Did you receive my gift?
Her lips flip up when she realizes the woman who has occupied her thoughts all day tracked down her phone number. Bradley pushes away from the door and starts typing:You didn’t have to buy me anything.
Hope you like Scotch.
Love it. Thank you. She sets the bottle on the desk, then contemplates what to write next. She’d already had one failed attempt at risk taking, and Bradley thinks she should probably quit after that.
She removes her coat, then sits on the sofa, tapping her fingers against the phone and trying to remember the last time anyone made her feel…valued. It wasn’t her last two boyfriends, and it certainly wasn’t her parents. Hal had moments when he let her know she was special, but that was more out of neediness and Bradley’s desire to ensure he was making wise choices. It’s different with Laura—she makes Bradley feel seen and heard. She complimented her on her broadcasting skills as well as her ability to relate to people, and it didn’t end there. It seemed any time there was an opening for Laura to say something kind, she took it. Bradley can’t deny she wants to spend more time with the veteran reporter, so why is she pussy footing around?
She brings the device back to life and types: The only thing that would make it better is sharing it with you.
Laura has the corkscrew twisted halfway into a bottle of Zinfandel when her phone chirps. She abandons the task and opens the text, grin slowly forming as she reads Bradley’s response. One thing is for certain—the younger woman hasn’t shied away from flirting. She knows she should put her phone away and let a little time pass before reaching out to Bradley again, but that seems like an impossible task.
She returns to the bottle of wine, yanks the cork out, then sets it on the counter and exhales a long breath. Women often flirt with her, and she’s always flattered, but she never expected Bradley Jackson to be one of those women. Maybe her radar is broken and she’s misreading the signals. That can’t be true—Bradley had kissed her—there was no misreading that.
She scratches her head and lifts her phone off the counter, staring at their text thread and sighing. She shouldn’t interact any more than she already has, yet she finds herself replying, Are you inviting me over?
Bradley kicks off her shoes, then turns on the evening news. Just as she takes a seat, she notices her phone light up. She reads the text and smiles. She knows Laura is in a relationship, but she also knows flirting when she sees it. She bites the inside of her cheek as she debates how to respond.
She does want Laura to come over, but at what cost? Then again, Bradley thinks, they’re both adults. What would be so bad about getting to know each other?
Room 634 @ the Archer Gray, Bradley writes, hoping she’s playing this correctly.
Laura tosses her head back, closing her eyes and thinking about Simone. Everything about the actress is appealing—she’s smart, funny, attractive and gainfully employed. Simone is also closer in age, plus they have similar upbringings. When they decided to make their relationship exclusive, Laura was certain it had been the right time and Simone was the right woman. Then Bradley unexpectedly waltzed into her life. Laura had no idea she’d be attracted to the TMS co-anchor, yet during their time together in Iowa, the more she observed Bradley, the more interested she became. What she’d told her was true—Bradley is a dynamo who doesn’t need coaching like Cory had suggested. She’d proven to be professional yet approachable.
Laura pours a glass of red wine, then moves to the living room, thoughts about Bradley still swirling in her head. Bradley is beautiful—there’s no denying that—it’s categorically true. Her smile could light up a small village and her eyes are this deep, cerulean blue Laura has never encountered. She can admit to herself she’s attracted to the blonde, but she would never act on that attraction while in a relationship.
She sips the wine and tries thinking back to a time when she was seeing someone and talking to other women simultaneously. Laura dated often in her younger years, but the older she got, the harder it became to find compatibility. She’d never cheated on any of her partners in the past and had no intention of doing so with Bradley or anyone else who came along.
She takes another longer sip and decides there’s no harm in having a drink, but not tonight. She writes back: Tomorrow evening work for you?
Bradley stares at the unopened bottle of Scotch, wondering if Laura will show up. She tries distracting herself with the news, but her thoughts drift to Laura and the way she looked at her in Iowa. Laura could convey more with the tilt of her head than most people could with a litany of words. She’d enjoyed watching Laura’s expression shift from serious to playful within seconds. She also liked how at ease Laura was around her not only in the field but also at the hotel bar. There was something sensual about the older woman—the way she walked, talked, laughed, grinned, and sipped her Bourbon cocktail.
She tries recalling the last time someone intrigued her the way Laura has, but she can’t pinpoint anyone who’d captured her attention like this. No one had Bradley thinking about them 24/7 regardless of their gender.
Her phone buzzes and she reads the text, heart dropping at having to wait a whole day to be with her again. It was just as well—she could use some time to cool off.
Sure—around 6 tomorrow?
Laura immediately responds: See you then.
She wakes up to the shrill sound of her alarm at 3:30 in the morning with a crick in her neck and grimaces when she recalls the intense workout she decided to do after Laura confirmed she wasn’t coming over. A hot shower helps loosen her stiff muscles, but it doesn’t help her thoughts from returning to Laura. Bradley knows she needs to put her attraction aside and focus on building a friendship with Laura; besides, it would be healthy to befriend someone in the industry who could not only serve as a kind ear, but also as a professional role model.
The show goes off without a hitch that morning, and Bradley is pleased when her thoughts don’t turn to Laura until after two post-show meetings. She changes clothes in her dressing room and remembers just 24 hours ago when a wrapped bottle of Scotch was waiting on the desk. Her lips tic up at Laura’s thoughtfulness.
As she unbuttons her blouse, she’s struck by Laura’s decision to give her a gift. If anything, it should’ve been her giving something to Laura for making her feel so special in Iowa. She’d treated Bradley with kindness and respect—something she hadn’t expected from the award-winning broadcast journalist. In Bradley’s experience, most veteran reporters didn’t give her the time of day. She wonders if it would’ve been anyone else, would they have treated her with such warmth and showered her with praise?
RJ knocks on the door.
Bradley zips her jeans. “Come in.”
“Here are your notes for tomorrow’s interview with Nancy Pelosi.” He hands her a folder. “I sent an electronic copy to your email.”
“Thank you.”
“Need anything else today?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good. See you tomorrow.”
“Have a good rest of your day.”
“You, too.”
Now Bradley just has to find a way to keep her mind off Laura for the next four hours—not an easy task as the hours turn to minutes and the anticipation bubbles in her belly.