TITLE: House Arrest (32/35)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

 (1/4  Lindsay’s POV)

Lindsay liked the symphony. Who knew?

Or maybe she just liked being there with Cindy, that brown dress she got glimpses down every time Cindy shifted, and the way that their shoulders kept brushing against each other in the close quarters.

Cindy looked like she was enjoying herself. Lindsay liked that too, the way that Cindy studied the players on the stage, the way her lips drifted upward on every crescendo. It was a stunning picture, even if she couldn’t stare at it outright without distracting Cindy enough to stop her complementary performance.

Though, Cindy didn’t seem completely comfortable either. And if that was the case, this probably wasn’t going to help, but Lindsay couldn’t resist the need to touch her. She slid her hand across the small gap between them and over Cindy’s hand, watching from the corner of her eye as Cindy tensed momentarily and then visibly relaxed again. Lindsay was afraid, for a moment, that Cindy might pull her hand away, but when she finally did move, it was to wrap her fingers more firmly around Lindsay’s. Though they sat like that for the rest of the concert, when it was time to go, Lindsay could barely get Cindy to glance at her.

And now here they were, riding in her car, completely silent, as if they had nothing to say to each other, when, if they were in the same situation just a few weeks before, they would have been engaging in some relaxed back-and-forth. Or at least Cindy would be talking.

But Cindy wasn’t. Ever since they left the theater, she sat frozen in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Lindsay would have given her entire retirement fund, small as it may have been, to have some idea as to what she was thinking.

“In this movie, The Princess Bride,” Cindy said finally in a voice so soft, it was almost dreamlike. “A character, Westley, says “As you wish” when he means “I love you.”

Lindsay smiled at the explanation. Such assumptions the girl made about her taste in movies. Cindy probably thought she didn’t watch anything that didn’t have lots of explosions and gun play and focus on detective work or heists. Other than A Christmas Story that is.

“You mean Dread Pirate Roberts, Rodents of Unusual Size, my favorite movie in the world, that Princess Bride?

Cindy turned around, finally, and looked at her.

“When I asked you about it, you said-“

“That it was subconscious. Not that I didn’t know where it might have come from or what I might have meant by it.”

Lindsay bit her lip. The path of this discussion was definitely testing her nerves.

“You might have or you did?”

A direct question. You’ve been hit. Hold it steady.

“This stuff really isn’t easy for me,” Lindsay said, keeping her eyes glued to the road ahead.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Cindy asked softly.

And that was fair. What exactly did she think? That she was the only one that falling in love was scary for? That everyone else just did it like a pro?

“I did mean it,” Lindsay whispered.

Cindy didn’t say anything back. Lindsay didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign. Then, Cindy turned back to the window and was quiet again for long enough that Lindsay started to feel uneasy.

If she was wrong, if Claire was wrong, she may have just sawed the floor out from under herself. If Cindy really did just want to be friends, the last thing she probably wanted to hear from her was that she wasn’t just scratching a sexual itch, but was kind of, sort of… in. Really, really in.

“You stopped saying it,” Cindy said to the window. “After I pointed it out, you stopped saying it. Did you change your mind?”

“No,” Lindsay responded right away. “I didn’t think I needed to anymore. I thought I was getting my point across more effectively. Obviously not.”

Lindsay gripped the wheel so tight her hands started aching. She heard Cindy sigh.

“What was your point?” Cindy asked, turning toward her again. “Just so we’re clear.”

Lindsay felt incredibly squirmy. Why was it that Cindy could continue to have this effect on her? She did not squirm.

“You know…” Lindsay said. “My feelings.”

“No, I don’t know your feelings. That’s why I’m asking,” Cindy replied, very matter-of-factly.

Lindsay felt herself sweating. When exactly did she lose control of this conversation?

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“I need you to say it.”

Again, completely straightforward, and slightly imploring, and now Cindy wouldn’t stop looking at her.

This was it. This was the moment. What was she going to do about it? That’s what Claire had asked her. This was her answer.

Lindsay pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. She unhooked her seatbelt, and could see the confusion in Cindy’s eyes as she turned to unhook hers. She carefully slid the belt off of Cindy’s shoulder, wrapped both arms around her back and pulled her as against her as she could in the front seat of her car. Then she kissed Cindy with every ounce of affection she could pour into it. When she pulled away, Cindy was looking at her, really looking at her, for the first time in a long time.

“I love you.”

The words came surprisingly easy. They usually felt harder to say.

Cindy looked hopeful, but not as convinced as Lindsay would have liked for her to. If she even uttered the words, “Are you sure?” Lindsay was going to either kill her or drag her into the backseat to prove it physically.

“Whatever it is that you think you know about this, for maybe the first time in your life, you don’t know anything. People hold onto things they’ve had and do stupid things when they’re lonely.” She knew that Cindy would understand that. “But the only thing that I want to hold onto is you, and, if I’m going to do stupid things, I want them to be with you. Like for instance, making out on the side of the road while two college boys take our picture with their cell phones.”

Cindy looked only slightly mortified as she turned and got two big smiles from the sidewalk. Lindsay waved out the window, then reached down in the console between them, grabbed her badge and held it up. The two guys lowered their phones and moved on in a hurry.

“Now would you put your seatbelt back on, so I can take you back to my place?” she asked, pulling on her own and fastening it with haste.

It took a minute, but then she heard Cindy’s seatbelt clicking, and decided it was a good time to use her official privilege and go twenty miles over the speed limit all the way home.