So she actually is shy, Maggie thought, watching Sam hug her arms to her waistcoat and rock back onto her heels. And she secretly wishes she was a nerd. It wasn't fair: Sam Winters the ice queen had already been the picture of delicious temptation. Sam Winters the closet nerd was so tempting, she should be illegal.

Maggie swallowed against the dryness in her throat, paralyzed by a sudden lapse of confidence.

"Most people can't wait for me to shut up about costuming and fandoms and stuff." Maggie tried to smile, as if she were joking. "Just to warn you. You should know what you'd be getting into, if we actually did... hang out."

"I would never—never want you to shut up." Sam's nose had turned a little pink in the cool autumn breeze, and her light eyes were stark against the night. She stood perfectly still, her top hat in her hands. "I hope I've never done that t-to you. M-made you feel that way."

Of course Sam had done that to her. Or, rather, Maggie now realized she'd done it to herself. In the student lounge the other day, Maggie had been going through a book of dress patterns, while Layla and some of their theater friends goofed off around her. And Sam had been sitting there across from them, leaning back in her chair with her long legs crossed. She was simultaneously poised and languid. Her gaze flicked towards Maggie occasionally, her eyes cool, her aristocratic cheekbones totally out of place in the grimy student lounge. An econ textbook rested on the chair beside her, heavily marked up.

Embarrassment had twisted through Maggie every time Sam looked over. She knew exactly how she came across to Sam—too loud, too wild, too fat, always just too much.

But now Sam's expression was pained, as she turned her top hat over in her hands. "You d-did think that," Sam said. "That I wanted you to sh-shut up."

Maggie noticed Sam's slight stutter this time, hitching onto letters or creating pauses between words. She realized, suddenly, why Sam might look without speaking. Why Sam might worry about silencing someone, the way her stutter silenced her.

"Sam," she said softly. "I didn't know any better. I just assumed...."

"It's all right," Sam mumbled.

"No, it's not," Maggie said. It was not all right at all.

Sam didn't speak, just kept toying with her hat; and once again Maggie found herself filling in the silence with her own thoughts: she does think I'm awful, and judgmental, too, but she's too polite to say it.

But if Sam truly thought Maggie was irredeemable, then what were they still doing here? Why would Sam be standing here on a chilly fire escape instead of going inside and enjoying one of the best parties of the year? Maggie had to stop assuming she knew what Sam was thinking.

Sam had been honest about her stutter. Maggie could be honest, too.

"I get nervous, too," Maggie blurted out. "But I get nervous when people are quiet." She took a deep breath. "When I was a kid, every time I did something bad, my mom gave me the silent treatment for days. Didn't matter what it was.... If I spilled my cereal or I played too loud when she had a headache... she would deliberately not speak to me afterwards, because she was mad. And so...."

Maggie suddenly realized she was trembling. Sam, eyes wide, set her hat down on the fire escape and stepped a little closer to Maggie, reaching for her but not quite touching her.

"We had family counseling, later on," Maggie continued. "When I was in high school. And it did help. But I still get nervous if someone doesn't talk to me, as if they are... I don't know. I worry I'm going to annoy someone so much, it will be, like... silence. Forever."

"I'm not—not always g-great at talking," Sam said.

Maggie nodded, feeling very small and helpless.

"But... here, hang on," Sam said. Her hands went to the cravat tied at her neck, her rings flashing in the low light. Carefully, she slipped the cravat free, revealing the pale contours of her throat, and bundled it into Maggie's gloved hands.

"You're giving me this?" Maggie asked. It was still warm from Sam's skin.

"Yes."

"But it's yours."

"It's mine to g-give to you." Sam folded her slim fingers over Maggie's, with the cravat between them. "I th-think you're wonderful. And I'd like—like to be friends with you. Or m-more than friends, if you want to be. But whatever you decide, or however you feel about me, my respect for you will never go away. It's my gift to you, and once I give it to you, it's yours forever."

Maggie's mouth fell open. Warmth from their joined hands spread up her body, igniting her, until she could not feel the cold air at all. Nobody had ever said anything like this to her before—as if it were easy, obvious, to offer so much permanence to another person. 

***********

Thanks so much for reading, you guys! What did you think of Maggie's confession to Sam here? And Sam's gift?

The last part will be up next Friday... and will include the kiss promised in the title! Come back then to see what happens :-) And thank you again!

xoxo,

London

This part is dedicated to @Concho10 for being sooo sweet and encouraging! <3 <3