res publica - revengeparty - Mean Girls (2004) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

“So, I have some bad news.”

Cady looks up to see Damian, her Director of Legislation and Communications. “Who died?” she asks warily.

“Our Akita.”

“What?”

Damian shakes his head. “Never mind. You remember that LS requiring the city to establish standards and procedures for conflicts of interest for contractors?”

Cady nods, and Damian grimaces, like he’s getting to the bad part.

“Well, it’s not under the contracts committee. It’s under Oversight and Investigations.”

For a moment, Cady is confused as to why this matters. Then she remembers who chairs O&I, and groans.

Regina George, New York City Council member representing district six in Manhattan, Cady’s co-chair of the LGBTQIA+ Caucus, and a colossal nightmare to work with.

“Have fun at that hearing, girl,” Damian says, and Cady makes a face at him.

“Maybe I can call committee counsel and—”

“And what?” Damian cuts in. “Tell them that she’s a pain in the ass? They’re aware.”

Sure, it would be unprofessional and extremely unlikely to sway central staff, but maybe it would be worth it. After a moment of internal debate, she sighs.

“Okay,” Cady concedes. “Tell counsel they can go ahead and draft.”

“You’re so brave,” Damian says, and exits Cady’s office.

Cady sighs. Really, it’s fortunate she’s gone this long without having a bill in Regina’s committee. She glances at her watch and figures it’s not too late to get a cup of coffee, then grabs her backpack and heads to the elevator.

Cady looks at her reflection in the shiny chrome of the elevator walls, marveling as she always does at the contrast between the fresh, modern, corporate-like feel of 250 Broadway and the old, storied halls of City Hall, with its echo-y rotunda and its walls adorned with paintings of George Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette.

Once on the sidewalk, Cady heads to the Five & Dime a block away. It feels kind of uptight for Cady—café by day, co*cktail bar by night—but it has the best espresso in the immediate vicinity of the office. She places her order for a flat white and moves to the side of the bar to wait. Then she sees her.

Regina George is seated at a table by the wall, typing on a MacBook. Her blond hair is half-up, held back by a clip, her eyeliner sharp. She’s wearing dark jeans and a blazer over a white shirt. Cady turns away and tries to be inconspicuous.

“Councilmember Heron?” the barista calls, and Cady immediately regrets being a regular at a place that respects her official title so much that they refuse to call her Cady, no matter how many times she tells them to.

Cady accepts her coffee and turns to go, but Regina is looking right at her. They make eye contact for a moment before Regina gestures to the empty seat across from her. And, well, it would be rude if Cady just walked away.

“Um, hi,” Cady says, lingering by the seat for a moment awkwardly before sitting down.

“Hi, councilmember,” Regina says, smirking.

Cady feels her face warm. “Would you believe me if I told you I have tried to get them to stop calling me that?”

At this, Regina laughs. “Yes, I would. You’re so informal. It’s cute.”

Cady isn’t sure if that’s a compliment or an insult—Regina’s specialty. “Well, what do they call you?”

“Councilmember Regina George, Esquire, obviously,” Regina says. Her manicured fingers keep tapping on her keyboard, even while she continues looking at Cady. The way Regina looks at her has always been kind of unnerving, like Regina can see right through her.

“I do have something to tell you, actually,” Cady says, fidgeting with the lid of her coffee cup. Regina raises her eyebrows expectantly. “I just had a bill assigned to your committee.”

Regina’s other eyebrow rises to meet its sibling. “Really,” Regina says.

“Yeah, uh,” Cady says, shifting a little under Regina’s undivided attention, “counsel told us that one of our LSes is under your committee.”

“Oh,” Regina says, like this isn’t what she expected Cady to say. “Nice. What is it?”

“It requires the City Chief Procurement Officer to establish standards and procedures for a contractor to use to identify conflicts of interest or misconduct and for contractors to submit certifications of compliance to MOCS,” Cady says, watching with anxiety as Regina’s nose scrunches as she speaks.

“And let me guess: MOCS has to report on this,” Regina says, sounding bored.

“Well… yeah,” Cady answers.

Regina rolls her eyes. “You and your reporting bills.”

“Data is important.”

“I know numbers are, like, what gets you going or whatever,” Regina says, and Cady blushes hotly, “but there is a such thing as too much data. You’re just bogging down agencies with reporting on stuff nobody’s going to meaningfully use.”

“That’s not true,” Cady insists.

“You know MOCS is swamped, right? It’s a miracle we’re fulfilling any contracts on time. You should be more concerned about the daycare providers taking out lines of credit to keep their staff,” Regina says, going back to typing.

“I am concerned about that,” Cady snaps. “We can consider more than one thing at a time.”

Regina waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’ll take a look at it once it’s drafted.”

Cady huffs and stands, grabbing her coffee. “See you.”

“Mhmm,” Regina responds, seemingly unconcerned with Cady’s departure.

Well, great. Now Cady needs a new coffee spot.

“Hey, boss,” Janis, Cady’s Chief of Staff, says, slapping a piece of paper on Cady’s desk.

“Stop calling me that,” Cady responds, their standard greeting for each other. “What’s this?”

“Dear Colleague sign-on letter for Intro 376,” Janis says. “Damian drafted it. He emailed it to you, too, but I know you’re weird and old-fashioned and hate the environment.”

Cady sticks her tongue out her. Is it so bad to prefer reading a hard copy, or taking notes by hand? “Call Taylor Swift if you’re so concerned about the environment,” she says.

“Hey.” Janis points a finger at her. “Do not get us sued.”

“I know about forty-seven lawyers.” Cady picks up the paper and scans it. It’s a standard request for her colleagues to sponsor their bill. “Looks good. How many are on the bill right now?”

“Twelve,” Janis responds. “People are just lazy, though. They need a nudge to sign on.”

Cady nods. “Great. We could hand it out before Stated?”

Janis rolls her eyes. “Cady, people will just put it in their pockets and forget about it. Compromise: Damian emails it out and I bring the forms for members to sign on before Stated in person if they want to.”

Cady makes a face at her. “You’re fired.”

“You already fired me today. Technically, I don’t work for you anymore,” Janis tells her.

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“A deep love for and commitment to serving the wonderful people of the greatest city in the world.”

Cady snorts. “Right.”

Janis pats her shoulder. “Why don’t you scroll through COIB’s Twitter and maybe you’ll feel better?”

Cady waves her off, then opens her calendar and scans her schedule for this afternoon. She has a health fair and then a meeting to attend about participatory budgeting, both in her district. Best to eat lunch now, while she can.

Cady is on her way to get her lunch from the office refrigerator when Damian flags her down.

“Hey, just letting you know that Intro 408 got added to the Stated agenda for tomorrow. It’s being voted out of committee tomorrow morning,” he says.

Cady raises her eyebrows. “Took them long enough to respond to our request.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Well, we got there in the end.”

“Cool, thanks,” Cady says. Damian salutes her—something he knows she hates—and disappears back into the office.

Cady is in the members’ lounge talking to Kevin Ganatra when someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to see Regina, looking more like she’s going to argue before the Supreme Court than sit through Stated in a crisp, peach suit with her member pin on the lapel and suede pumps.

“Hi,” Cady says. “What’s up?”

“Sooo,” Regina says, crossing her arms and drawing out the word. “I got your Dear Colleague letter. For the CUNY task force bill.”

“Okay,” Cady says. Sounds innocuous enough. “Did you have a question?”

Regina sighs like a disappointed father. “I have some concerns.”

I have some concerns, Cady knows, is Regina-speak for I’m going to tell you why I think your bill is stupid.

“What’s up?” Cady asks tiredly.

“Do we really need a task force to increase affordability?” Regina says. “You know task forces are where ideas go to die, right?”

“I don’t think that’s always true,” Cady defends.

“And funding CUNY should really be a conversation with the state, not thirteen random people,” Regina continues as if Cady hadn’t said anything. Look, I agree that CUNY should be affordable, but we also have to consider that quality takes funding. Eliminate tuition, and you’re turning our city colleges into a pile of adjuncts who couldn’t hack it at real schools.”

Cady runs a hand through her hair and resists the urge to take Regina by the shoulders and shake her. “That’s why we need the task force,” she argues. “They’ll look at the feasibility of all of it. They’re also going to look into barriers to graduation, not just funding.”

Regina rolls her eyes dismissively. “Look, I know you’re in your first term, but it’s been two years. You should know that agencies require funding.”

Cady balls her hands into fists. “There are other sources of revenue available besides tuition. We have economic levers and a huge concentration of wealth right here in Manhattan.”

“Please.” Regina snorts. “Taxing the rich is your plan? You know they’ll just pull out of the city and go to Florida or some other place with a lower income tax and then we’ll really have a problem.”

“Why are you so committed to the status quo?” Cady snaps. God, she hates the way Regina so easily gets under her skin.

“I’m not,” Regina says, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “I’m realistic.”

“Are you sure it’s not because those taxes would impact your constituents?” Cady bites back.

Regina’s eyes widen, and Cady realizes it was very much the wrong thing to say. Everything about Regina’s expression turns sharper.

“You’re so right, Cady,” Regina says in a dangerously low tone. “I’m just some corporate shill for my wealthy constituents. You’re a real detective.”

“Regina, I—”

“Since I’m just some dumb puppet, you don’t really need my support,” Regina says, shoulder-checking Cady as she stomps away.

Kevin is still standing off to Cady’s left, looking like he just witnessed a murder.

“Girl, if you start feeling sick in the next few days, call the police,” he advises.

Cady rubs a hand over her face. Yeah, that’s probably smart.

Cady stares at the back of Regina’s head, a couple rows ahead of her and to the right, through the invocation, but she doesn’t look at Cady. There’s no evidence of their argument on her face as she types on her phone.

After roll call and the items on the agenda are coupled on general orders, Regina stands.

“Majority Leader?” she says, turning to Grace Porter, who is seated in the big chair at the top of the dais. “I rise for a point of order.”

A murmur goes through the room. What’s happening?

“Uh, granted,” Grace says, looking confused.

“Under the charter, section forty-two, the Council is required to publish and make publicly available a proposed agenda for every meeting of the Council at least thirty-six hours prior to the meeting,” Regina says clearly into her microphone. “The Council did not do that. It added Introduction 408 to the agenda less than twenty-four hours ago.”

Cady’s blood runs cold as Damian gives her a panicked look from the front of the room where staffers are sitting. What the f*ck? he mouths to her.

Grace places a hand over her microphone and whispers with the staff at the dais. “The agenda was noticed on Tuesday, which accounts for the timeframe,” she says finally.

“Majority Leader, the charter requires that the Council publish and make available a proposed agenda for a Stated meeting. This agenda item was not available thirty-six hours in advance.”

Another pause. “Point heard and acknowledged, Councilmember, but the agenda was noticed prior to the thirty-six-hour timeframe,” Grace says, reaching to turn off her microphone.

“Point of information?” Regina continues, and Cady hears a couple of members around her groan.

Cady’s phone starts lighting up with texts from Janis.

Janis ‘Imi’ike: hey wtf is going on

Janis ‘Imi’ike: what is regina doing

Janis ‘Imi’ike: is this your fault

Janis ‘Imi’ike: what did you do to her

Cady bites her lip and briefly closes her eyes.

Grace sighs. “What is it?”

“I’m asking if you could share with this body and the public when this agenda item was noticed, so the public can have this information,” Regina says.

“Hang on,” Grace mutters, then shuts off her microphone while she confers with the staff at the dais.

The delay seems to stretch on forever. Cady stares down at her desk, feeling the eyes of the other members on her. They’re all familiar with Regina’s petty motions, but they’re not usually this extensive.

“Damn, Cady,” Kevin whispers from his seat next to her. “You really f*cked up this time. This is some front-page sh*t.”

Cady cringes, thinking about tomorrow’s headlines.

“On the point of information,” Grace says, back on the mic, and the murmurs die down, “this agenda was noticed at 1:18 pm on Tuesday, which is more than thirty-six hours. Agendas are subject to additions. We will now proceed—”

“I move to appeal the decision of the chair to the full body,” Regina cuts in.

Grace sighs audibly into the mic. “The ruling of the chair has been opposed. This will be subject to a voice vote. Those in favor of the ruling of the chair, say aye.”

“Aye,” choruses the room tiredly.

“Those opposed?”

Only Regina’s voice, loud and clear, is heard.

“The ayes have it. We will not proceed with the agenda,” Grace says with finality.

“I move for a roll call vote,” Regina says, standing again.

“Ugh, fine,” Grace says with an eye roll, a break in decorum that makes the room laugh. “Councilmember George has called for a roll call vote on her motion to appeal the ruling of the chair. We will now proceed to roll call vote.”

Cady sits numbly as each member is called on to vote, mumbling, “Aye,” into her microphone when it’s her turn.

“Okay, with fifty in the affirmative and one in the negative, Councilmember George’s motion is denied,” Grace intones. “Now, we will proceed with today’s agenda.”

A couple people cheer sarcastically. Regina finally turns and looks at Cady. Her eyes are cold, and it sends a chill down Cady’s spine. Technically, Regina lost the motion—but it wasn’t about getting Cady’s bill knocked off the agenda. It was about embarrassing her, letting everyone in chambers, everyone watching the hearing stream, and probably everyone reading the New York Post tomorrow that Cady is on Regina’s sh*t list.

In reality, Regina won.

Cady darts down the side staircase that leads down the back of City Hall to avoid any reporters who might be lingering in chambers, then hightails it across the street to the safety of her office at 250 Broadway. She’s breathing hard, like she just ran a marathon.

“Hey, champ,” Janis greets from her computer. “Congrats on passing your bill. What the f*ck was the rest of that?”

Cady drops into an empty chair and braces her head in her hands. “I may have said something I shouldn’t have to Regina before Stated,” she says forlornly.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Janis says. “I’ve had two different reporters ask me for comment.”

Cady looks up. “What did you say?”

“For them to talk to Damian. That’s not my job,” Janis says with a shrug.

“It kind of is.”

“Again, you fired me.”

Cady just groans. “I’m just gonna go home and hide under a blanket until tomorrow. It’ll all have blown over by then.”

“No can do,” Janis says sympathetically. “You’re going to that LGBTQ Caucus event tonight, remember?”

“Nooo,” Cady whines.

“Yes.”

“But Regina’s gonna be there.”

“That was probably something to think about before you ran over her dog or whatever.”

“I did not run over her dog!” Cady says indignantly. “Wait. Does she have a dog?”

“Doesn’t matter. What did you even say to her?” Janis asks.

Cady sighs and looks at the floor. “I may have implied that her positions are based on keeping her wealthy constituents happy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Janis bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Cady insists.

“I wish I could have witnessed that,” Janis says once she catches her breath. “Good God, Cady. Don’t call me when you begin to cough in three days. This one’s on you.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fired me.” Janis shrugs. “Now start practicing your apology for when you see Regina tonight, and I’ll have Damian figure out how to spin this.”

Cady groans again, more dramatically this time, and drags herself to her office.

At the top of her inbox is in fact a request for comment from the Post, which Cady quickly deletes. She puts on her headphones and watches YouTube compilations of cross-species baby animal adoptions until it’s time to get ready to go to the event.

Shortly before she has to leave, Damian pops in. He takes a look at her screen and frowns.

“Cady, sweetie, is this really a baby animal video situation?” he asks, gently taking the headphones off of her head.

“You were there,” Cady grumbles.

“And I promise that not as many people give a f*ck about it as you think they do,” he tells her. “The number of people who even possess the knowledge to understand what went down is pretty limited.”

“Lots of people watch the streams,” Cady reminds him, crossing her arms.

“I’m sorry to break this to you for the eightieth time, but nobody watches hearings for fun like you do.”

Cady ignores him and starts switching into her sneakers, yanking on the laces. “Did the Post get ahold of you?” she asks when she sits back up.

“Mhm,” Damian says, looking at something on his phone.

“And?”

“I told them to f*ck off.”

“Damian!” Cady says, pressing a hand to her mouth in horror.

Damian gives her a pointed look. “Nice to know you think so little of me that you actually believed that.”

Cady bites her lip. “Sorry.”

Damian brightens. “Forgiven!”

Cady checks her watch and wills herself to get out of her chair. “I have to go to this stupid event.”

“Yes, please let the Post hear you call this event stupid. That will be the cherry on top of a fantastic day,” Damian says with a sigh.

“Whatever.”

Cady pushes open the heavy door of The Center and the noise and bustle of 14^th Street disappears when it clunks shut behind her.

She’s always liked it here, found it welcoming. She hopes the community feels the same way. Even if Cady never felt like she needed a physical refuge, knowing that there’s open arms for the queer people in the city who need them is comforting.

Although, right now, she really hopes those open arms will close around Regina if she tries to get in Cady’s face.

“Councilmember Heron! Welcome,” the person at the front desk greets her. They direct Cady to the large room around the corner from the desk where The Center holds their big events.

Normally, Cady would be thrilled about this event: a roundtable discussion, hosted by the City Council’s LGBTQIA+ Caucus, to check in with the community about priorities. Today, though, knowing she has to host an event with Regina has her knees shaking.

Regina’s changed into a slightly less formal outfit, keeping the blazer from earlier but pairing it with a pair of jeans and lower heels. It’s practically club attire for her.

They make eye contact from across the room and Cady is sure she’s giving Regina a deer-in-headlights look. Regina, however, maintains her cool expression and turns away to chat with her Chief of Staff, Gretchen Wieners.

Steeling herself, Cady crosses the room to Regina, and Gretchen gives her a nervous look.

“Gretch, can you give us a minute?” Regina says, like Cady is some annoying constituent who follows her to events to share 5G tower conspiracy theories.

Gretchen nods and scurries away.

“Hey, uh, I’d like to talk to you,” Cady starts, but Regina holds up a hand.

“I’m sure you would,” she says evenly. “After, okay?”

Cady guesses that does make sense, though she bristles at the brush-off. She doesn’t really have time to linger on it as she’s pulled away by one of their community partners to get things started.

It was a good event. Cady wishes she could have absorbed any of it.

Well, that’s not true. Once an academic, always an academic, so she does have a several pages of carefully written notes that she took on autopilot while she watched at Regina out of the corner of her eye. Regina, who seemed completely cool and unbothered and engaged through the entire discussion, and who is probably waiting to take Cady out back and rub in her face what a superior chair she is.

Cady would normally stay and help with clean-up—despite the repeated assurances that she doesn’t have to, that she must have better things to do—but Regina very pointedly informs her that she’s getting ready to leave, so Cady hurries after her out of the building.

They walk a few paces away from the front door into a quiet alcove on the street and Regina crosses her arms and looks at Cady expectantly.

“What do you want?” Regina asks.

Cady just blinks at her, thrown by the question. Unhelpfully, her brain notes how good Regina smells.

“Uh,” she says intelligently.

Regina huffs and turns to leave. “Okay, then. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, like how you wasted all of our time earlier today?” The words are out before Cady can think about them, and she grimaces. Well, now she’s really done it.

Regina laughs disbelievingly. “Is that your version of an apology?”

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but what you did was unprofessional and out of line,” Cady snaps. She’s in it now, might as well say what everyone in chambers was thinking.

“And you’re the poster girl for professional,” Regina says wryly, walking towards the curb, Cady hot on her heels. “Nice sneakers, by the way.”

“There’s no law against sneakers, although I’m sure you’ll introduce one now,” Cady says. “Don’t you ever get tired of being insufferable?”

“No, not really,” Regina says, sounding bored as a black SUV pulls up to the curb. “Do you ever get tired of being an annoying idealist?”

“I—”

Cady hears a click and turns to see a member of the press who had been covering their event snapping their photo. Regina hears it, too, and turns, a displeased look crossing her face.

“Get in the car,” Regina says decisively, opening the door of the SUV.

“What?” Cady says. “Why? Whose car is this?”

“This is my Uber, not a kidnapping scheme,” Regina says, pointing at the interior of the car. “Get in, unless you want this to be added to tomorrow’s headlines.”

Cady hesitates for a moment, then gets in.

Regina slides in after her and slams the door, then gives her name to the Uber driver. It occurs to Cady that she doesn’t know where they’re going.

The silence is tense and awkward—at least for Cady. Regina just scrolls on her phone, seemingly indifferent to Cady’s presence. Finally, the car pulls onto a residential street and stops.

“Thank you,” Regina says to the drive, and gets out. Cady scrambles to follow.

Regina starts walking up the steps of a brownstone and unlocks the front door, turning to look at Cady with a raised eyebrow. “You coming?”

“To your house?” Cady asks, frowning.

“I do have a key to my neighbor’s, if you’d prefer that.”

The car drives away, leaving them truly alone. Cady just stares at Regina.

“Either come inside and let’s talk like adults where nobody can listen in or go home,” Regina says with a shrug.

Cady looks around. They’re on the Upper West Side somewhere, but she isn’t even sure what street they’re on. Before she can overthink it, she jogs up the steps.

Regina’s apartment is dark and quiet and spotlessly clean. Cady is pretty sure she does not, in fact, have a dog.

Regina kicks off her shoes before neatly adding them to a rack by the door, so Cady does the same, almost laughing at the contrast between her worn New Balances and Regina’s row of pumps. Without waiting for her, Regina walks into her kitchen, flipping on a light and pulling a bottle out of her refrigerator. She fills two glasses with a generous amount of whiskey and slides one across the island to Cady. Cady stares into it, wondering how, exactly, she got herself into this situation.

Regina takes a seat and looks at Cady expectantly.

“What?” Cady asks.

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“Your apology. A good one.”

Cady takes a breath. “I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. It was uncalled for.”

“For calling me a corporate shill?”

“For implying it.”

Regina considers this. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

Cady stares at her. Regina looks back.

“And?” Cady says.

Regina’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Do you have anything to say to me?”

Regina thinks for a moment. “You should get your pants tailored instead of rolling the hems up.”

“That is not what I meant,” Cady says with a huff. “You’re seriously not sorry about trying to get my bill pulled?”

“I was correct,” Regina says with a shrug.

“Council adds bills late all the time!”

“And I’m normally feeling more charitable than I was today,” Regina says pointedly, and Cady begrudgingly accepts that Regina isn’t going to apologize.

With a sigh, she takes a seat and sips her whiskey, then downs it like a shot. She looks around the chrome kitchen. “So this is where you live?”

“I thought you had a PhD.”

Cady makes a face at her. “Who told you that?”

“You, you f*cking weirdo,” Regina says, giving her an odd look. She refills Cady’s glass. “Every higher ed hearing it’s when I was in grad school this and when I was a professor that. Kind of self-absorbed, actually.”

Cady ignores the jab. “You watch the higher ed hearings? I’ve never seen you come to one.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t watch,” Regina tells her, sipping her drink.

Cady feels warmth bloom in her chest, although she’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol. “Just my hearings, or…?”

“You’re so obsessed with yourself. I watch other hearings.”

Cady snorts. “Right. I’m the self-absorbed one.”

Regina’s eyebrow quirks. “What does that mean?”

“I just mean…” Cady waves vaguely at Regina. “Your whole thing, you know?”

Now Regina looks genuinely confused. “I don’t think I do.”

“The hair, and the nails, and the nice suits,” Cady says, feeling her face heat a little. She’s aware she should probably stop talking. “You look like you spend an hour on your makeup just to go for a run.”

Instead of getting mad, Regina rests her chin on her hand, looking amused. “Thank you,” she says. “How do you know what I look like on my runs?”

Cady looks down into her glass. “Um, well, you post selfies sometimes, so…”

Regina laughs, delighted. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Shut up,” Cady grumbles, asking herself for the tenth time how and why she ended up here. “You watch my hearings.”

“Um, but your job isn’t to look at my thirst traps.”

“So you admit they’re thirst traps.”

“Everything I post is inherently a thirst trap.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Cady asks desperately. Her head is starting to spin a little from the alcohol—she’s always been a lightweight and she rarely drinks, which doesn’t help with her tolerance.

“No, I want to talk about you thinking I’m hot,” Regina tells her.

“I don’t.”

“This is my house, and I didn’t want to have to use this, but I do outrank you.”

“Regina,” Cady says pleadingly.

“Okay, okay,” Regina says. “Jeez. Um, what got you into public service?”

Cady blinks at the curveball and tries to get her brain to focus on something that isn’t the little freckle on Regina’s cheekbone. “Well, I was a professor—shut up,” she says, when Regina smirks at her. “I went to Brooklyn College for undergrad, then Columbia for my doctorate, and then was an adjunct at NYU before I was a professor at the CUNY Graduate Center. And I saw the funding disparities, and how much more CUNY students had to give, if we could provide everything private colleges do. And a friend suggested I run for City Council.”

“Hmm,” is all Regina says. “That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Yeah. Doing it for the kids. It explains a lot about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh my God, Cady,” Regina says, rolling her eyes. “Can you stop looking for an insult in everything I say?”

Cady crosses her arms, still feeling defensive. “Well, what about you?”

Regina shrugs. “I went to law school, interned in the DA’s office, worked at DOI for awhile, realized I was more interested in the politics side of public service, and jumped ship for the Council.”

Cady nods. She knew most of that, actually, but she’s not going to tell Regina that she’s been Googling her in her free time.

“And you’re a lesbian,” Cady’s alcohol-loosened tongue adds, as if this is important to Regina’s career trajectory.

“The allegations are true, yes.”

Cady studies Regina, who studies her right back. “But you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Is that a requirement?” Regina asks, tapping her nails on the counter, and Cady blushes, biting her tongue.

“No,” Cady says quietly.

“You don’t, either,” Regina points out, sitting back in her chair.

“I’ve been busy,” Cady mumbles.

Regina laughs, covering her mouth. “You’re so weird, Cady,” she says, and it’s the first thing she’s said all day that feels like a compliment.

Regina takes the clip out of her hair and shakes it out, and Cady is struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful she is. She wonders if Regina’s hair is as soft as it looks.

She must be staring, because Regina asks, “You good?”

“Hm?” Cady says. “Oh, yeah. Great. I should maybe get home, though.”

She doesn’t particularly want to go—what she actually wants to do is wander around Regina’s apartment and rummage through her drawers to learn more about her, but that’s obviously off the table.

Regina nods. “I’ll call you a car.”

“No, I can take the subway,” Cady says, standing unsteadily. “Just tell me where the closest station is.”

Regina snorts. “You’re not taking the subway.” She slides her phone, open to the Uber app, across the island. “Put in your address.”

Cady sighs and obliges. The app tells her David is en route to her location.

“And you can put your number in there, too,” Regina tells her.

Cady looks at her, eyes wide, but Regina is looking at her calmly. “Um, okay,” she says, and texts herself from Regina’s phone. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket.

“Great,” Regina says, standing to walk Cady to the door. She watches as Cady sloppily ties her shoelaces, then stands at the door as Cady climbs into her Uber.

Cady gives Regina a final wave before she closes the door, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes.

What just happened?

“What the f*ck happened last night?” Damian asks as soon as Cady steps through the door of their office.

“Sorry about that,” Cady says instead of answering his question, shrugging out of her jacket.

“Now I gotta deal with you and Regina yelling at each other on the street and then running off to do god-knows-what?”

“We weren’t yelling,” Cady corrects. “I went to her place. We talked. It’s all fine.”

That gets Janis’s attention. “What do you mean, you went to her place?”

“We went to her apartment,” Cady says.

“What?” Janis and Damian practically shout in unison.

“And you live to tell the tale?” Janis asks.

“You guys are being really dramatic,” Cady complains. “It’s all fine. We’re friends now, I think.”

Janis laughs like this is hilarious. “Right.”

“We are!”

“Sure, sweetie,” Damian says, patting her shoulder. “Just don’t insult her right before any hearings, okay?”

Cady huffs, annoyed, and stalks to her office to sit at her computer. She checks her phone for the fifth time in the last hour, but Regina still hasn’t texted her. Not that she has a reason to. Cady isn’t even sure why she wants her to.

When she opens Instagram, however, she sees Regina’s profile picture at the top of her feed, lit up to let Cady know she’s posted a new story. Cady clicks on it and almost drops her phone.

It’s Regina, hair up, face shiny with sweat, in a park. Her skin is flushed with exertion, and a bead of sweat disappears into her workout top.

The caption says IYKYK.

Cady feels her face heat red-hot, her stomach stirring uncomfortably. This is definitely aimed at her. She can picture the smirk on Regina’s face as she posted it, and kind of wants to die.

She screenshots the story.

“Did you hear?”

Cady looks up to see Kevin sitting down next to her in the member’ lounge.

“Hear what?” Cady asks, closing her laptop.

“You know that bill Sharon introduced? The commissioner approval one?” Kevin says in a hushed tone, even though there’s only a couple other people in the room.

“Yeah,” Cady says. Sharon Norbury, the Speaker of the City Council, introduced a bill at the last Stated that would require the Council to approve commissioner appointments of most city agencies.

“It’s getting heard this week,” Kevin says. “It just got noticed.”

Cady’s eyes widen. “That was fast.”

“Yeah, and Duvall is bugging out,” Kevin tells her. “Went on New York One this morning and said a bunch of sh*t.”

Rumor has it that Sharon and Mayor Duvall once dated, many years ago—the Romeo and Juliet of New York City politics, if neither of them killed themselves and instead sniped at each other through press releases.

“Should be interesting, at least,” Cady says with a laugh.

“Never a boring day,” Kevin agrees, giving Cady a fist bump before heading out.

Cady goes back to her work. She has a relatively light day today, having attended a morning rally for the CUNY budget before heading to City Hall. Sometimes she likes to do her work here; it’s silly, but it makes her feel important and official. It’s good for eavesdropping sometimes, too.

And, okay, maybe she was kind of hoping Regina would pass through, but she hasn’t. Which is probably for the best, given how much brain space she’s been occupying.

Almost as if she conjured her, Cady’s personal phone buzzes with a text.

Regina George: wyd tonight?

Cady blinks at her phone screen and quickly types wyd into Google.

Cady Heron: Nothing, why?

Regina sends a Google Maps location for a bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

Regina George: meet me here at 8

Cady frowns.

Cady Heron: For what?

Regina George: omg cady

Regina George: for a DRINK you freak

Oh. Oh. Cady’s eyes widen. Regina wants to hang out. Regina George wants to hang out.

Cady Heron: Oh! Yes! I’ll be there!

Cady cringes at the excessive enthusiasm, but finds she doesn’t really care. She definitely has to get home to change, though.

Regina is leaning against the bar when Cady walks in, looking like being a hot woman in a bar is her full-time job with the ease with which she chats with the bartender, her fingers toying with the co*cktail napkin under her glass. She’s shed her typical suit in exchange for straight jeans and a tight white top under… is that a leather jacket?

Regina turns and sees Cady staring at her, crooking a finger to indicate Cady should come join her.

“Hey,” Regina says.

“Hi,” Cady squeaks. She clears her throat and tries again. “Hi.”

“Want a drink?” Regina asks.

“Uh,” Cady says, always immediately overwhelmed when she has to order something. “Vodka cranberry?”

“And I’ll take another,” Regina says to the bartender, indicating to her empty glass. “Thank you.”

Cady moves closer, mirroring Regina’s position against the bar while they wait. “Hi,” she says again, because she’s an idiot.

Regina looks at her with a bemused expression. “You look cute.”

Cady does an internal fist pump. She had spent twenty minutes just standing in front of her closet and eventually settled on jeans that are actually the right length and a flowy blue top.

“Thanks,” she says.

The bartender slides their drinks over the counter, and Regina grabs both, leading Cady to a corner table. Cady takes a gulp of her drink, the taste of vodka sharp on her tongue as she swallows.

“Do you come here often?” Cady asks, internally cringing at how cliché the question is.

Regina huffs an amused breath. “Sometimes, yeah. Support small business, and all that. Plus the drinks are cheap.”

Cady nods, eyes fixated on Regina’s nails as she taps the side of her glass. She takes another sip of her drink.

“Did you hear that Norbury’s commissioner bill is getting heard?” Cady asks.

“Mhm,” Regina says. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Cady frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Duvall’s going to do anything he can to kill this bill, and, frankly, I don’t blame him,” Regina says with a shrug.

“You think the mayor should be able to unilaterally appoint every commissioner?” Cady asks, somewhat incredulously.

“I think it sounds good in a vacuum, but how is the city supposed to function when every decision the mayor makes has to be approved by another body?” Regina shakes her head. “We’re just creating red tape and leaving agencies in limbo while hold hearings.”

“Is that worse than having a city full of poorly qualified or incompetent commissioners?” Cady counters. “Look at Commissioner Carr.”

Carr, the former commissioner of the city’s Department of Correction, had so mismanaged Rikers Island that he had been moved to a newly invented position in the Mayor’s Office at the same salary, just to get him out of the position without technically firing him.

“The end doesn’t always justify the means,” Regina says with a shrug.

Cady hates the way Regina speaks so authoritatively, like there’s no possible way she could ever be wrong. Cady also wishes it was a skill she had.

“How else do we get to the ends, though?” Cady pushes.

“Robust oversight,” Regina responds, like it’s that easy. Like every oversight body in the city is fully funded and functional.

“But—”

“Ugh, this is so boring,” Regina complains. “Do you ever talk about anything besides work?”

Cady bristles. What the hell else are they doing here, then?

“What else is there?” Cady says, crossing her arms defensively.

Regina just stares at her for a long moment, scrutinizing. “This is why you’re single.”

Cady’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“What do you do for fun?” Regina asks, taking a sip of her drink.

Cady has half a mind to tell her to f*ck off, but she finds she doesn’t want to—not really. There’s something about having Regina’s attention that is strangely addictive. So she lets the comment slide.

“Um, I like to watch documentaries,” Cady says. Regina just keeps looking at her expectantly. “And I like taking walks. I have a membership to the zoo.”

“A membership to the zoo?” Regina repeats.

“Yeah. It has admission to all four zoos in the city.”

“Why?”

“Because I like animals?” Cady answers, it coming out sounding more like a question.

Regina is just looking at her, a slightly amused and somewhat baffled expression on her face.

“Well, what do you do?” Cady asks.

“You already know that I go on runs,” Regina says teasingly, and Cady knows she’s blushing by the delighted expression on Regina’s face. “I like going to Central Park and reading when it’s warm out. I like to see plays.”

“You like plays?” Cady repeats. For some reason, this surprises her. “What about musicals?”

“I’d rather kill myself,” Regina responds flatly.

Cady makes a mental note not to tell Damian this.

“And I like hosting.”

“Hosting?”

“You know, when you gather your friends in your home?”

Cady makes a face at her. “Heard of it.” She finishes what’s left of her drink.

“When’s the last time you went on a date?” Regina asks.

It catches Cady off guard, and she briefly chokes on her drink as she swallows it. “Why?” she asks suspiciously, when she can breathe again.

“Curious.” Regina raises an eyebrow at her.

“Um, maybe a little over a year ago?” Cady estimates, asking herself why she’s even entertaining Regina’s question.

Regina nods, like this makes sense to her. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“You’re so tense,” Regina says, waving her hand in Cady’s direction.

“I think this is veering into territory that would violate our anti-sexual harassment training.”

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Regina tells her, with the easy demeanor of a person who has never experienced rejection in her life.

Cady must take too long to answer, because Regina smirks at her and plucks Cady’s glass off the table, smoothly sliding her seat back and heading to the bar. Cady just watches her go, biting her lip as she appreciates the way Regina’s jeans hug the curve of her ass.

A few minutes later, Regina plunks another vodka cranberry down in front of Cady and takes a seat with a fresh drink of her own. Cady sips it, hoping it will soothe the anxious, anticipatory twist in her stomach. Regina invited her here and is asking pointed questions about her… recreational life. That implies something, doesn’t it?

“What about you?” Cady asks before she can think better of it.

“What about me?” Regina says, peering at Cady in that way that she does, like she can see into Cady’s brain and read her thoughts like they’re printed on a billboard.

“When did you last sleep with someone?”

Regina laughs. “If you recall, that isn’t what I asked you, Ms. DCAS police.”

“The DCAS police don’t administer the sexual harassment training.”

“Cady. Not the point.”

“Well, you didn’t answer my question.”

Regina gives Cady a long, appraising look before she smirks. “Tonight, if you play your cards right.”

Cady fumbles with her glass, narrowly avoiding spilling it into her lap. Some of it lands on the table in front of her, and Regina wipes it up with a co*cktail napkin. With a slightly shaking hand, Cady downs the rest, setting the glass down with a clunk.

“Okay,” Cady says.

“Okay?” Regina echoes. “Okay, what?”

Cady doesn’t know the answer here. Okay, please? Okay, are we joking, or is this for real? Okay, let’s f*ck? Every option seems destructive in some way, a career land mine.

What Cady settles on is, “My place or yours?”

Regina’s apartment is closer.

As Regina watches, Cady pulls off her sneakers, drops her bag on a bench by the door. Regina hangs up her coat and neatly finds a place for her shoes on the rack, then turns and walks away, leaving Cady to scramble after her.

Regina opens a door, and with a jolt, Cady realizes they’re in Regina’s bedroom. It’s meticulously neat, with a pristinely made bed and evenly hung wall art. It looks like an ad for luxury housing.

Regina walks towards Cady, forcing her to back up until she hits a wall and Regina is pressed against her, enveloping Cady in her perfume, something sweet and expensive-smelling. Just before she’s sure Regina is going to kiss her, she stops.

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” Regina says, waits for Cady to nod, then closes the remaining distance.

Regina kisses the way she does everything: practiced and assertive. It’s been awhile since Cady kissed anyone, and she’s certainly never kissed someone who makes Cady feel so off-balanced just by being near her. Regina starts gentle at first, seeming to test how Cady will react, then presses in more purposefully, soon licking across the seam of her lips.

Cady opens her mouth, inviting Regina in, and is rewarded with the taste of Regina’s tongue against hers, sweet from whatever she had been drinking early. Regina’s hands come up to rest with her palms against Cady’s cheeks and her fingers cradling her jaw, holding Cady in place as she tilts her head to further explore Cady’s mouth.

Cady really hopes she’s giving as good as she’s getting, but her heart is pounding so hard she’s certain Regina must be able to feel it with how close they are, and her brain feels slow and foggy. She grips at Regina’s waist, solid, smooth curves under her palms, and Regina arches into her a bit. Their breasts brush, and though they’re both clothed, it sends an electric shiver up Cady’s spine.

Regina’s hands move to start unbuttoning Cady’s shirt, slowly opening the fabric as her hands move down Cady’s torso. With a rough tug, Regina untucks the shirt from Cady’s pants and then it’s hanging open, and Cady has never been so grateful to be wearing one of her nicer bras, just by chance. Regina breaks the kiss to admire the newly revealed skin as the shirt falls to the floor, eyes darkening.

Cady doesn’t have time to worry about hanging up her shirt so it doesn’t wrinkle because Regina’s hands are covering her breasts over her bra and this is possibly the hottest thing that has happened to Cady in her whole life up until now, including actual sex.

Regina moves her hands to scrape with sharp nails down Cady’s sides, and Cady tries not to squirm. She tugs at Regina’s top, trying to get her motor functions to cooperate so she can pull it off, but Regina seems to get the idea, because it soon join’s Cady’s shirt on the floor.

To Cady’s immense disappointment, Regina steps back—although this does give Cady the opportunity to admire Regina in just her bra and pants, feeling a hot surge of lust race through her body. Her bra is a delicate white lace, the swell of her breasts at the top of the cups making Cady’s mouth water. Regina keeps backing up, until she’s standing next to her bed, then crooks a finger to beckon Cady over.

Cady comes as fast as her feet will take her and is unceremoniously shoved onto Regina’s bed, bouncing a little as her butt hits the mattress. Regina nudges her to lie back against the pillows and crawls up to her, a predatory glint in her eye. Cady just tries to breathe.

“Can I take these off?” Regina asks, brushing her thumb over the button on Cady’s pants. Cady swallows hard and nods, not trusting her voice to come out with anything but a squeak. Regina takes her time sliding the fabric down Cady’s legs, palms dragging up Cady’s thighs when she’s done.

“You, too,” Cady says hoarsely, because this quid pro quo feels important for some reason, a tiny effort to balance the power in the room that is so heavily tipped in Regina’s favor. Teasingly slowly, Regina takes off her pants, revealing a scrap of lace that Cady really wouldn’t even describe as underwear. Cady shifts on the bed, and feels how wet she is already, hoping it doesn’t show on her own underwear because if Regina teases her about it now she might actually die on the spot. Then Regina is back hovering over her, knees bracketing Cady’s hips, kissing her gently as she edges her fingers under the underwire of Cady’s bra.

Cady arches her back and murmurs, “Take it off,” before she can overthink it. She feels Regina’s hands slide around her back and unlatch the clasp before pulling the garment away.

It occurs to Cady through her haze of aroused desperation that she should be self-conscious with the way Regina has her eyes locked intently on her chest, but the thought disappears as Regina dips her head to lick across Cady’s nipple with a broad stroke of her tongue.

Cady’s hands fly to Regina’s hair, tangling in the strands, gasping. She should probably be embarrassed about this, too—how sensitive she is—but she really couldn’t care less. The ache between her legs is her only real concern, besides trying to keep breathing. It is abundantly clear that Regina knows what she is doing, and knows she’s doing it well. Regina laves equal attention on both of Cady’s nipples, until Cady is digging her nails into Regina’s skin.

Regina pauses, sitting up slightly, giving Cady some time to catch her breath as she wordlessly reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra. And then there are Regina’s boobs, full and soft and paler than the skin on her chest and shoulders and arms from her time running outside. Cady knows she must look absolutely dumbstruck by Regina’s amused smirk, and she belatedly remembers that she has hands, and that she can use them.

Regina’s breasts are as soft as the rest of her, the weight perfect in Cady’s palms as she gently squeezes and brushes her thumbs over the nipples. She’s rewarded with Regina’s low moan, and suddenly she needs to hear that sound again and again, possibly for the rest of her life and for a while after her death, too.

Regina hooks her fingers under the waistband of Cady’s underwear, looking at her in a silent question. Cady nods, a little desperately, and Regina shifts so she can pull them down. And then Cady is totally exposed.

Regina’s lips part, and the look on her face can only be described as hungry, Cady feels a little like prey as Regina nudges her legs apart with her knee and trails her fingers down Cady’s stomach so slowly it has to be on purpose, deliberately intended to drive Cady mad.

Before she can think too much about it, Cady makes eye contact with Regina, takes her wrist, and pushes her hand lower.

Regina inhales sharply when her fingers dip between Cady’s legs and come away slick. Her fingers explore, trying to find purchase, teasingly skirting over Cady’s cl*t in a way that has her gasping.

“Regina,” Cady says, trying for authoritative but giving, at best, pleading.

“Trust me,” Regina tells her. “I know what I’m doing.”

If there is one thing Cady can trust about Regina George, it is that she does, in fact, know what she’s doing here.

Regina’s fingers finally find Cady’s cl*t and circle, the relief so sweet Cady groans. It’s enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure up Cady’s spine, but not enough to get her over the edge. It’s becoming clear that Regina intends to draw this out—and Cady would laugh if she could at how classically Regina that is, how she did the same thing at Stated.

It doesn’t stop Cady from huffing in frustration, moving her hips to try and inspire Regina to give her more.

“What do you want?” Regina whispers, looking at Cady intensely.

“Please,” is all Cady manages.

“Please what? Use your words,” Regina instructs.

“f*ck me,” Cady grits out.

It isn’t what Regina is expecting—Cady can tell by the way her eyes widen and she shudders a little, fingers losing their rhythm just for a moment. But she recovers and slides her fingers down to Cady’s entrance, fingertip teasing for a moment before sliding in.

Cady throws her head back, back arching as Regina’s fingers brush where she needs it, building a rhythm with her thumb on Cady’s cl*t.

“Yessss,” Cady hisses, the word drawn out.

Regina licks at Cady’s neck, nipping at the sensitive skin along her jawline. “Are you close?” Regina asks, words pressing into Cady’s skin. Cady just nods frantically.

Regina twists her fingers, pressing harder on Cady’s cl*t, and bites down on her collarbone. Cady’s body, taut like a bow, snaps, a long, low moan escaping her as she comes.

Regina whispers assurances as she eases Cady down, waiting until she relaxes before withdrawing her fingers. Cady feels boneless, weightless and heavy at the same time. It’s all she can do to watch as Regina licks her fingers clean.

Once Cady’s brain is ready to function again, she nudges Regina onto her back, flipping their positions. Regina allows it, and Cady is momentarily struck dumb by the sight of Regina George on her back, topless, hair fanned out on the pillows. She palms Regina’s breasts again, watching with interest as Regina’s breathing gets heavier as she massages.

“Cady,” Regina says, her voice an octave lower than normal.

“Yeah?” Cady traces the blush that has migrated to Regina’s chest with one finger.

“I’m wet,” Regina tells her simply, and it’s kind of insane how hot it makes Cady feel.

“I hope so,” Cady says. She applauds her restraint, for flirting with Regina instead of ripping off her underwear like her muscles ache to do.

“So do something about it,” Regina says, raising an eyebrow.

Cady doesn’t need to be told twice. She pulls off Regina’s panties and for a moment simply stares at the woman spread out before her, the most gorgeous person she has ever seen, looking at her with hooded eyes asking Cady to touch her.

Regina opens her legs invitingly, and Cady has only a moment to be envious of her confidence before she gets distracted by every bare inch of Regina, glistening for Cady’s touch.

It’s been a long time since Cady slept with someone, and even longer since she’s been with a woman, but it’s like riding a bike—except the metaphor is imperfect because Cady is terrible at riding a bike but Regina gasps and digs her nails into Cady’s skin when Cady slides her fingers through Regina’s folds. As promised, Regina is warm and wet, sending a shudder through Cady’s body at the knowledge that she did this.

She finds Regina’s cl*t with the tip of her middle finger, trying to mimic the teasing way Regina had touched her. Regina’s breath comes out more harshly, the blush traveling down her chest as Cady experimentally alternates with pressure.

“What do you want?” Cady asks Regina, savoring the bit of power she has while she can.

To her surprise, Regina smirks a little. “For you to be a good girl and f*ck me.”

A hot stab of arousal flares in Cady’s gut and her hips stutter forward a bit. For some reason, Cady’s first thought is that Janis can never, ever find out about this. She avoids Regina’s eyes and decides to shove that reaction into a box and never reopen it.

“Okay,” Cady whispers, and angles her hand so she can slide two fingers inside Regina. Regina spreads her legs wider, planting one foot flat on the bed. She moans at the change in angle, and Cady wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off of her under the threat of death.

Cady tries different rhythms and angles until she finds what gets Regina to move her hips more frantically, what makes her breathing more erratic. Cady ducks her head to wrap her lips around a nipple, feeling Regina’s answering moan rather than hearing it.

“I’m close,” Regina gasps out, and Cady increases the pressure on her cl*t. She tugs at the nipple with her teeth, feeling Regina’s inner walls start to flutter as she comes, back arching with a breathy gasp.

Cady doesn’t think she’ll ever think of anything—ever—other than the sight of Regina coming. Gently, almost regretfully, Cady slides her fingers out as Regina catches her breath. Tentatively, she licks her fingers, feeling like this is too much even though Regina did exactly the same thing.

Now that they’re both lying in bed, sticky, sated, Cady has no idea what to do next. Should she put her clothes back on and leave? Is she staying the night? She really hadn’t thought about what would happen after.

Regina seems to have no raging internal debate. She absently reaches up and pushes a stray lock of hair out of Cady’s face. “You’re so pretty,” Regina tells her.

Cady’s breath catches in her chest. “Thanks,” she whispers. “You’re kind of the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

She cringes as soon as she says it; it’s too much. But Regina seems pleased. Cady glances at her watch and sees that it’s past eleven.

Regina seems to notice, because she says, “I can call you a car if you want, or you’re welcome to the guest room.”

The guest room. Cady isn’t quite sure why that stings a bit, but she gets it. Actually sleeping in the same bed as someone does strangely feel more intimate than sex sometimes. Cady debates for a moment, then sighs.

“I should probably go home,” she says regretfully. “I have an event in my district tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Regina says, like that doesn’t bother her—and it probably doesn’t.

Cady re-dresses in silence while Regina pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants. It’s such a startling departure from her usual attire that Cady nearly laughs.

Cady doesn’t fight Regina on calling an Uber; the very idea of taking the subway all the way back to Brooklyn right now is exhausting.

Regina watches as Cady puts her shoes and coat on, then grabs her bag as the car pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks, um, for inviting me over,” Cady says, even though she’s not sure that’s an accurate description of what happened.

“Anytime,” Regina says in a teasing tone. “Maybe now you can calm down at work.”

Cady’s too tired to argue about the ridiculousness of that statement. “Whatever, Regina.”

“Exactly like that,” Regina praises, and Cady elbows her while she laughs.

“Good night,” Cady says. She pauses with a hand on the doorknob in case Regina wants to give her a parting kiss, but Regina just smiles at her.

“Good night,” Regina responds.

Then Cady heads out the door and into the car.

Cady thought that maybe things would change after her night with Regina—not dramatically, but she did expect Regina to reach out again, maybe to get coffee and walk around Central Park, and then Cady would drag her to the Central Park Zoo, where she could impress Regina with her food and retail discount.

Admittedly, she has thought about this quite extensively.

But Regina doesn’t text her, and she doesn’t call her, and Cady doesn’t either, because she has no idea what the protocol here is and she has nobody she can ask.

Cady is cutting through City Hall Park when she spots Regina, strolling through with a cup of coffee in her hands, aviators sitting low on the bridge of her nose. She looks like a model selling pleated pants.

Cady has by now convinced herself that Regina hates her and regrets sleeping together, so she’s startled when Regina grins and waves.

“Hey,” Regina greets when she reaches Cady. “How’re you?”

“Not much,” Cady says, then mentally smacks herself in the forehead. “I mean, I’m good. You?”

“You going to that public safety hearing at one?” Regina asks her.

Cady shakes her head. She’s not on the committee, and she has a hearing of her own next week to prep for. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“That’s too bad,” Regina says, sinking her weight into one hip.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going,” Regina replies with a wink.

Cady feels her body get hot despite the breeze blowing through the park. For a moment, she mentally runs through her schedule trying to figure out if she could squeeze in the hearing, but she really can’t.

“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you,” Regina says, and Cady’s heart lifts. “We should sit down and review the recommendations from the roundtable last week, start sketching out a plan before the caucus meeting.”

Oh, right. Work. Cady can’t help but feel disappointed. “Yeah, we should.”

“Cool. I’ll have my people reach out to your people,” Regina says, gives Cady’s shoulder a quick squeeze, and strides away.

“Good to see you,” Cady calls after her, but she doesn’t think Regina hears her.

Cady is in her office reading through the legislation attached to her hearing when her phone rings with an unrecognized number.

“Hello?”

“Yo, is this Cady?”

Cady frowns, confused. “Yes.”

“Heyyy, this is Shane Oman, from Regina’s office. Sorry, from Councilmember George’s office,” he amends, like he’s been admonished for this in the past.

“Oh, hi Shane,” Cady says. She vaguely remembers that Shane handles Regina’s scheduling. “How can I help you?”

“Regina said she wants to schedule meeting about your caucus priorities or whatever. What’s a good day for you guys to rap about that?” Shane asks.

Cady opens her planner and scans her week, looking for a free evening specifically. If Regina happens to ask if she wants to get a drink after their meeting? Fine by her.

“Thursday evening?” Cady suggests.

“Word,” Shane says. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, probably looking at Regina’s schedule. “Looks good. How’s 5?”

“Great.”

“Bussin’. Hit me back if anything changes, and I’ll put it on Regina’s calendar,” Shane says.

“Um, okay,” Cady says. “Thanks.”

“Gotchu.” Then he hangs up.

Carefully, Cady adds the meeting to her planner.

Cady looks up at the sound of knuckles on wood, and sees Damian standing in her doorway.

“Why is there an event on your calendar that just says ‘Regina George’?” Damian asks.

“Oh, we’re going over the recommendations from the roundtable. You know, for caucus legislative and budget priorities?” Cady responds.

Damian raises an eyebrow. “And this is happening at five instead of during business hours because…?”

Cady shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but she knows her blush is giving her away. “It’s what worked for her.”

“Sure it was.”

“What does that mean?” Cady asks nervously.

“Your descent into madness is observable.” Damian takes the seat across from Cady’s desk.

“Huh?”

Damian holds up his work phone, open to Cady’s official councilmember Instagram. “I can see what you’ve been searching, and that you’re watching all of Regina’s stories. I am begging you to do whatever this is on your personal account.”

Cady flushes red, caught. She always forgets to switch her accounts. Damian has just come to accept that all of their recommended posts are from lion sanctuaries.

“Now tell me,” Damian says, folding his hands and placing them daintily on his knee. “What really happened that night you went to Regina’s?”

“Nothing!” Cady insists. “I already told you.”

“No, no. Not that time. I mean last week,” Damian tells her, smirking.

Cady gapes at him, open-mouthed. “How do you know about that?”

“You went to a gay bar with this city’s—no, this state’s, and possibly this country’s—hottest elected official and didn’t think I would hear about it?”

“But how did you know I went to Regina’s after?”

Damian grins slyly. “You just told me.”

Cady fights the urge to throw something at him. Her stapler has a good weight to it and is looking pretty appealing right now.

“It’s none of your business,” Cady tells him, as sternly as she can muster.

“You know that’s never stopped me,” Damian says dismissively. “We have plenty of time to plan a hard launch for pride month.”

“Absolutely not,” Cady says, pointing at him for emphasis.

“Why do you always try to make my job as boring as possible?” Damian complains.

“Go work for a gossip magazine, then.”

“I am burdened by my integrity.”

Cady sighs. “Aren’t we all?”

Cady walks into Regina’s office a couple of minutes before five. After her conversation with Damian, she under no circ*mstances wanted Regina in her office.

“Hey, Cady!” Shane pops up from a desk, hand extended for a fist bump. Hesitantly, Cady pounds it, and Shane blows it up enthusiastically, complete with sound effects. “You can just go into Gi’s office. She’s expecting you.”

Gi. Something about it makes Cady smile. She’s glad Regina has someone comfortable enough with her to use a nickname.

Cady taps on the door before pushing it open.

“Shane, for the last time, we can’t—oh,” Regina says, looking up. “Hey, it’s you.”

“It is me,” Cady confirms.

“Have a seat,” Regina says, gesturing to a chair alongside her desk.

Cady sits down and places her notebook on the desk, taking a moment to look around the office. It’s small, the standard office every councilmember has at 250 Broadway, but it looks like it was professionally decorated, with a neutral color palette and accents of pink. Cady pays particular attention to the framed photos of Regina at events, at bill signings, in Council Chambers, and a few that aren’t work-related. There’s one of her with Shane at Pride; they both look much younger, decked out in rainbow attire Cady would never have guessed Regina would ever wear. Regina follows Cady’s eye and smiles, maybe a little sheepishly.

“We were in college,” Regina says, by way of explanation.

“You went to college together?” Cady asks.

Regina snorts. “No. But we did go to high school together. Gretchen and I went to college together.”

Cady nods. Gretchen Wieners is Regina’s Chief of Staff, which has always been somewhat baffling to Cady, considering how intense Regina is and how Gretchen bites her nails every time there’s even a minor confrontation at a hearing. But this history makes more sense.

“Did you grow up in the city?” Cady asks, squeezing through this door Regina has opened slightly.

“Mhm,” Regina says. “Upper West Side. Born and raised.”

“And then you went to Barnard, and then Columbia Law?” Cady asks.

Regina narrows her eyes. “You ghostwriting my memoir or something?”

Cady shrugs. “Just curious.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Regina says, a little suspiciously. Cady wonders if she doesn’t encounter many people interested in just getting to know her as a person. “What about you?”

Cady suspects that Regina is trying to redirect the scrutiny, but she answers anyway. “I grew up in Kenya, actually.”

Regina’s eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”

Cady nods. “My parents were African wildlife researchers, so I spent most of my childhood over there. I did my last two years of high school near Chicago, then moved here for college.”

“At NYU?” Regina asks.

Cady bites her lip to keep from smiling as she nods. Regina has been keeping tabs on her, too. “And I’ve lived in district thirty-three for almost ten years now.”

“Nice,” Regina says fidgeting with a pen between her fingers. “And you didn’t want to study African wildlife, too?”

“Hard to do that from Brooklyn,” Cady jokes. “Plus I’ve never been interested in it in an academic sense. More like a hobby. Not the way I was interested in math.”

Regina wrinkles her nose. “Math? Gross.”

“It’s not gross!” Cady says indignantly. “It’s fun. And very useful.”

“Budget season must be one big party for you,” Regina teases.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“You’re only saying that because your committee doesn’t have ten-hour budget hearings.”

“Yours doesn’t, either,” Cady points out.

“And thank god for that,” Regina says. “I’d find another job if it did.”

“Really?”

Regina sighs. “Probably not. Being a lawyer required longer hours, actually.”

“Do you ever miss it?” Cady asks. She misses being a professor every day, but she doesn’t regret her career change.

“Certain things,” Regina concedes. “Not working under someone else, though.”

Cady nods, and they’re quiet for a long moment. Then Regina taps Cady’s notebook.

“Guess we should go over this so we can get out of here,” Regina says. She starts typing something on her laptop, and a document of notes opens on the screen.

Cady bites her lip, unsure if that was a promise to go out together after, but the sooner they get this done, the sooner she can find out.

Cady doesn’t realize how hungry she is until she sits down across from Regina at a table at a pub slightly south of their offices. She opens the menu, the food options taking up half the space the beverage menu does. When the waiter comes, she orders a burger with fries and when Regina orders herself a beer, Cady impulsively does, too—even though she doesn’t particularly like beer.

Cady finds herself staring at Regina when the waiter leaves, eyes tracing her face, where her makeup has worn away just slightly enough for Cady to see some freckles peeking through on her nose. Her eyes meet Regina’s blue ones, and they crinkle somewhat amusedly.

“What?” Regina asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cady shrugs. “Because you’re pretty,” she says simply.

“Now who’s violating the sexual harassment training?” Regina asks, and Cady can’t quite tell in the dim light, but she thinks Regina is blushing a little.

“I think we’ve violated that in every way it can be violated.”

“I can think of a few more ways,” Regina says flirtatiously, and it makes Cady’s stomach drop, landing somewhere around her knees. She briefly wonders if one of Damian’s gay spies is in this restaurant, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t really their scene.

“What’s your favorite color?” Cady asks, when what she really wants to do is drag Regina into the bathroom, the risk of New York City’s gayest scandal involving two elected officials be damned.

Regina raises an eyebrow. “What’s with the twenty questions today?”

“I just want to know you better,” Cady says.

Regina looks at her a little skeptically, again making Cady wonder if she feels like everyone wants something from her. It makes her a bit sad, actually.

“Pink,” Regina says.

“Favorite place in the city?”

Regina thinks for a moment. “The Hudson River Greenway.”

“That’s, like, the entire length of Manhattan.”

Regina just shrugs.

“What was your favorite subject in school?”

“English, probably,” Regina answers. “Are we done with this yet?”

“No. If you could fix one thing about government, what would it be?”

“Discovery laws,” Regina replies immediately.

Cady pauses. “Discovery laws?”

“You know, generally entails the prosecution turning over evidence to the defense?” Regina drawls.

“I know what it is,” Cady says, although her understanding is rudimentary at best. “I thought that was reformed, though.”

Their waiter returns with their beers, and Regina takes a sip. “The devil is in the implementation. The NYPD has spent literally millions of dollars on document and case management systems, data collection, and storage products, but DAs don’t have direct access to any of this, so everything remains delayed. Meanwhile prosecutors have only two weeks after arraignment to turn over exculpatory evidence.”

“I see,” Cady says, even though she isn’t quite sure she followed all of that. She tastes her beer and tries not to gag. She thinks she covers it well, but Regina looks at her amusedly. “And how would you fix it?”

“Well, I’d give DAs direct access, to start,” Regina tells her. “The CCRB should have direct access to bodycam footage, too, but that’s a whole separate issue. And, you know, adequate funding. Now are we done with the third degree?”

“I guess,” Cady says. She toys with her napkin. “Now you do me.”

Regina’s eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean,” Cady says, rolling her eyes.

“Cady, what are we doing?”

“We’re getting to know each other.”

“You’re being really aggressive about this.”

“You’re being really resistant.”

Regina sighs. “Fine. What’s your favorite animal?”

“Lions!” Cady grins. “I could tell you all about—”

“Please don’t.”

Cady wrinkles her nose at her. “You’re boring.”

“You’re boring.”

“You’re bad at this.”

“Ugh. What was your last relationship?” Regina asks, resting her chin on her hand.

Cady is a little caught off guard by the question. “It ended couple of years ago. I dated someone I met in grad school for four years.”

“That’s a long time,” Regina comments. “What happened?”

Cady shrugs, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Nothing big, exactly. We were just… stagnant. I got…”

“Bored.”

“I… well, I don’t know if I’d put it that way,” Cady says. “We just… never fought, you know? He never challenged me in any way. It felt like every day was the same. And we kind of fell out of love.”

Regina is giving her a scrutinizing look she doesn’t know how to interpret. “How was the sex?”

“Regina!” Cady feels her face heat.

“What?”

Cady wants to tell her it’s an inappropriate question, but considering the night they spent together, she doesn’t think that will have an impact on Regina.

“It was fine,” Cady says begrudgingly.

“Just fine?”

“It was good. It was fine. Stop looking at me like that!”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Regina says calmly, although she’s clearly smirking. “Just wondering how I compare.”

“Why—” Does it matter? Cady wants to say, but they’re interrupted by the arrival of Cady’s burger and Regina’s cheese fries. She’s not even sure if Regina was legitimately asking or just teasing her.

“Thank you,” Regina says to the waiter. She points to Cady. “And she’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

Cady just stares at Regina as she swipes Cady’s beer, dragging it to her side of the table. Regina winks at her. It makes her heart beat in a funny way.

“Why aren’t you in a relationship?” Cady asks, once the waiter leaves.

Regina shrugs. “I’m busy.”

“But you could be with probably any woman in this city,” Cady presses. She isn’t sure why she feels like she needs to know this, or when she got so bold.

“I don’t have the time to explain everything any time I want to talk about work, and I don’t particularly care to. Or there’s the people who do know who I am, and what I do, and want something from me. Like I’d trade discretionary funding for sex,” Regina says, rolling her eyes. “I’m just not interested in the emotional labor right now.”

For a reason she can’t identify, this makes Cady’s stomach turn over uncomfortably. Is she emotional labor? Not that they’re in a relationship. Cady has no idea what they are.

The waiter places Cady’s drink on the table, and for some reason, it makes Cady feel better. Regina remembered what she likes to drink, could tell she didn’t like her beer. That’s something, even if Cady doesn’t know what it is.

“You wanted to watch this and now you’re asleep.”

Cady opens her eyes. “I’m not asleep.”

“Well, if you’re not going to watch it, I’m turning this sh*t off,” Regina tells her.

“You’re no fun,” Cady grumbles. It’s not her fault that the combination of a nature documentary and Regina running her fingers soothingly through her hair while her head rests in Regina’s lap made her sleepy.

It’s become a typical weekend evening for them, which is something Cady is still trying to wrap her head around. She always imagined Regina spent her free weekend time out and around in the city with a big group of friends, or maybe picking up women in bars and then having mind-blowing, marathon sex—and okay, maybe Cady’s brain did veer off the path and devolve into fantasies about Regina that she will take with her to the grave.

But they’ve fallen into the habit of spending evenings in Regina’s plush living room, or occasionally Cady’s considerably more modest apartment, reading or working on opposite ends of the couch, or watching television half on top of each other.

Finding the rounded corners of Regina’s sharp edges has become addictive; Cady collects the new things she learns about Regina in the privacy of their homes the way she used to collect facts about lions and zebras. Regina has little collages of photographs of friends and family on a corkboard in her home office. She has an extensive collection of novels, which inhabit a different shelf than her law books. She sometimes has trouble sleeping, and Cady can hear her padding around the apartment in the middle of the night, making herself a cup of tea. It matters to her which way the toilet paper roll faces, because Cady had replaced it once trying to be helpful and Regina had corrected her. She’s putting together the puzzle of Regina George, trying to figure out what the larger picture is as it comes together.

It occurs to Cady that she’s wading into deeper and deeper water, and soon her feet will no longer be touching the bottom. But she continues; she has an insatiable desire to find out where the current will take her.

“I’m no fun?” Regina asks, looking down at Cady. “You exclusively want to watch the world’s most boring documentaries.”

“They’re not boring,” Cady says, but she’s too cozy and sleepy to really argue.

Regina just sighs and lets the documentary play, absently running her fingers through Cady’s hair with one hand and scrolling through her phone with the other.

When Cady wakes up, she’s still on Regina’s couch, a throw pillow under her head and a blanket draped over her. She blinks, surprised that she didn’t wake when Regina got up from the couch.

There’s a soft light coming from the kitchen, and Cady sits up and stretches. She hears a soft clink, like a mug being set on the counter, and goes into the kitchen.

Regina is sitting at the island in her pajamas, looking sleep-soft and tired, looking at her phone. On the surface in front of her is a steaming mug.

She looks up, seeing Cady. “Oh, did I wake you up?”

“No,” Cady says groggily. The clock on the stove tells her it’s just past three in the morning. “What are you doing up?”
Regina shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Cady takes a seat and peers at her. “Why not?”

Regina’s eyes dart down to her mug. She shrugs. “I have bad dreams, sometimes.”

“About what?” Cady asks softly.

Regina sighs. “When I was sixteen, I was hit by a bus.”

Cady’s mouth falls open but not words come out. “You were… what?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Regina mumbles. Her gaze flits around the room uncomfortably.

“It sounds like a big deal.”

“I’m fine,” Regina says, a little harshly. “It just keeps me up at night, sometimes.”

Something in Cady’s chest cracks, a pain of sympathy so sharp it takes her breath away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Regina rungs a finger around the rim of her mug.

They sit in silence for awhile, and Cady watches as Regina’s eyes start to droop as she reads whatever she has on her phone. Eventually, Regina sets it down.

“I’m gonna try and go back to sleep,” she says. “You coming?”

For a moment, Cady is frozen, but then she practically launches herself off the stool. “Yeah.”

Neither of them discuss it as Cady trails Regina to her room and slips into her bed beside her. The bed is massive, and the space between then feels both like a yawning canyon and mere inches.

“Night,” Regina mutters, turning over.

Cady stares at her, watches the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. She wants to place her hand on Regina’s chest, to feel her heart beating, but she settles for listening to Regina’s even breaths as they slow.

All at once, it hits her, a fist reaching inside her chest and squeezing: she is falling in love with Regina George.

Cady is heading down the stairs to the members’ lounge when she sees Sharon Norbury coming out of the blue room, and Cady vaguely remembers the mayor was holding a presser in there. Cady waves to her in greeting.

“Cady!” Sharon says, waving her over. “I’ve actually been wanting to speak to you about something.”

“What about?” Cady asks.

“My commissioner bill is going to be voted on at the next Stated,” Sharon tells her, pulling Cady off to the side into an alcove.

“Wow, that’s quick,” Cady says in surprise. She supposes the speaker can unilaterally add her bills to the agenda, though.

“We have a solid majority to pass the bill, but I’d like to get a supermajority if I can. I expect a veto, but if we can avoid it, that would be ideal,” Sharon says.

Cady nods. That makes sense. “What do you need from me?”

“I was hoping you could talk to Regina about it,” Sharon says. “She’s not on the bill, and my understanding is that she intends to vote no.”

Cady blinks at her. “Talk to Regina? Me?”

“Well, yes,” Sharon says slowly. “You two seem close.”

Do they? Cady only sees Regina in passing at 250 Broadway, and Regina doesn’t spend a ton of time in the members’ lounge. Regina will come perch on her desk before Stated to chat, but the bulk of their socializing is at bars and restaurants and in their homes. Oh, and in parks and coffee shops and bookstores, and that one time Cady managed to drag her to the Prospect Park Zoo.

Okay, she guesses this ask makes sense.

“I can try,” Cady says. “I’m not sure how much of an impact I’ll have on her.”

Sharon chuckles. “I know how she is, but it would great even if we could move her from a no to an abstention.”

“I can try,” Cady repeats.

Sharon thanks her and walks away, flanked by an aide holding a smartphone in each hand.

Cady almost laughs to herself. Change Regina’s mind. Right.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Like, right now?” Regina asks distractedly, turning her head towards Cady. She’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hair in a messy bun. It’s Cady’s favorite version of Regina.

“Yes,” Cady says. Her legs are draped over Regina’s lap, some TV show neither of them are really watching playing on Cady’s little television. “It’s about the next Stated.”

Regina makes a displeased face at her. “Couldn’t you have talked to me about this during business hours?”

“We didn’t see each other during business hours.”

“Ugh, fine,” Regina says with a dramatic sigh. “What?”

“It’s about the commissioner bill.”

“What about it? We’ve already talked about this.”

“How are you voting?” Cady asks.

“Um, I’m voting no. I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Regina drawls. She pokes Cady in the knee to show she’s joking.

“Have you considered maybe abstaining?”

Regina frowns. “Why would I do that? Abstaining is for conflicts of interest. Otherwise it’s for cowards.”

“Why are you voting no? Explain it to me like I’m stupid,” Cady tells her.

“But you’re not stupid.”

“You called me stupid about thirty seconds ago.”

“I didn’t.”

“You implied it.”

Regina groans. “You’re literally such a pain in the ass.”

“Regina, come on!”

“Okay, okay,” Regina grumbles. “I’m not necessarily against it in concept. It sounds good in theory. Like, advice and consent is important, and it would be great to have it for agency heads. But you have to think about it in practice. There are twenty commissioners subject to this bill. That’s twenty agencies that won’t have a leader until we can gather the Council and all come to a vote. It’ll slow everything down even more, and constituents who need services are going to pay the price.”

Cady tries to find a place in Regina’s argument where she can poke holes. “But in the long term, having an incompetent—or hell, corrupt—commissioner damages not only services but the entire agency, possibly for the long term. Even if there’s some delay, don’t you think it will be worth it?”

“If we’re requiring every body and elected in this city to approve everything before it happens government will grind to a halt. I just don’t have faith that, with this bill as written, there won’t be some collateral consequences.” Regina fingers start trailing up Cady’s legs, teasingly light, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, I try and keep favor with Duvall when I can. He’ll be as pissed about an abstention as he would be with an aye, and I have a playground in my district that needs to be renovated and he holds the purse strings.”

“But that’s corruption,” Cady says.

Regina rolls her eyes. “It’s politics. You’re so dramatic.”

“What language changes would make you feel more confident?” Cady asks, trying to keep herself from getting distracted by the way Regina’s fingers start brushing higher up on her thighs.

“Does it matter?” Regina asks. “We’re voting on this bill at the next Stated. We’ve barely had time to consider it, and besides, it would require a voter referendum and a charter revision.”

With great willpower, Cady nudges Regina’s hand away. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“Stop trying to bore me to death. Why does it matter to you, anyway?”

Cady hesitates, and Regina narrows her eyes. “Who told you to get in my ear?”

“Sharon,” Cady admits.

“Why?” Regina asks.

“Why what?”

“Why’d she ask you? She can talk to me herself,” Regina says suspiciously. Cady knows it’s one of her pet peeves when a sponsor doesn’t come to her directly.

“I don’t know,” Cady mumbles. “She knows we’re close.”

Regina pauses. “Close?”

“Yes?”

“Hm,” is all Regina says to that.

“Are we not?” Cady asks hesitantly.

“I mean, we’re friends,” Regina says, and if Cady were an outsider looking in, it would be kind of a hilarious thing for Regina to say with her hand still on the inside of Cady’s thigh. “I’m also friends with Karen.”

Cady has seen Regina get coffee or go shopping with Karen Shetty, the councilmember for district 41, from time to time, but it seems like an odd comparison. Karen doesn’t even show up to Stated half the time.

“I don’t think our relationship is the same as you and Karen,” Cady says dryly. At least, she sincerely hopes it isn’t.

“Relationship?” Regina repeats, looking at Cady with an unreadable expression. “We’re not in a relationship.”

“I know,” Cady says, face heating. “But we’re… we’re not just friends.” Regina looks at her silently for so long Cady adds, “Right?”

Regina looks away. “What do you want from me, Cady?”

“What?” Cady asks, caught off guard. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Well, you’re sitting here asking me for a vote,” Regina says tightly.

“As a colleague,” Cady says, tendrils of dread starting to creep up her spine. “I’m not… Regina, this isn’t about your vote. On anything.”

“This?” Regina says. “What is this?”

“I…” Cady has no idea what to say. Has no idea what they are. She decides to tell the truth. “I really like you, Regina. As a friend, but also… as more than a friend, if I’m being honest.”

Regina gives her a pained look. “Cady, come on.”

Cady stares at her. “What?”

“Don’t make this… You know the press would have a field day with this,” Regina says quietly.

It’s such a bizarre thing to say that Cady almost laughs. “What does the press have to do with anything?”

“Think about how it would look. The two chairs of the LGBTQ-plus Caucus are f*cking?” Regina says, and Cady winces at the crass language. “So many of my votes over the last few weeks would be scrutinized. I wouldn’t be able to vote on any of your bills without being scrutinized. Not to mention how unprofessional it is.”

“How is this unprofessional?” Cady says, sitting up fully and pulling her legs out of Regina’s lap. “You’re not my superior. We’re not breaking any COIB rules.”

“Just think about how it would look,” Regina says, a little pleadingly.

“Why does that matter?” Cady almost shouts. “Do you think it’s better to just f*ck buddies or whatever instead of in a real relationship, if this does get out?”

“But we’re not in a relationship.”

“Well, I want to be,” Cady snaps, before she can think about her words.

Regina stares at her, wide-eyed, almost panicked. And she just keeps staring, not saying anything.

“Regina,” Cady says in a small voice, “say something.”

“I, um,” Regina says, twisting her fingers together in an anxious way Cady has only seen her do in the middle of the night, after waking up from one of her dreams. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea.”

“Who cares if it’s a good idea?” Cady demands. “How do you feel about me?”

Regina presses her fingers to her temples. “Cady—”

“Don’t Cady me,” Cady says, crossing her arms. “Answer the question.”

“I like you, okay?” Regina says. “I won’t say I don’t. But I just…” She trails off.

“Just what? You don’t want to date someone who doesn’t understand politics. You don’t want to date someone who works in politics. Why are you painting yourself into a corner?” Cady says, but she doesn’t even feel angry anymore, not really. Just tired.

“Cady, you know as well as I do how hard it is to be taken seriously as a queer woman in elected office without throwing something like this in the mix,” Regina says. “It’ll be sensationalized, every time one of us votes on the other’s bill people will ask questions about whether a favor was traded for it. Maybe when term limits are up—”

“That’s in two years for you!” Cady says. “Six for me.”

Regina sighs, and is quiet for a long moment. “Let me think about it,” she says finally.

Cady curls into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, suddenly cold.

“Well, I’m not going to wait forever,” Cady says tiredly.

“I know,” Regina whispers. She gets up, and hesitantly presses a kiss to Cady’s head. Cady lets her.

Then Regina leaves.

“Whoa, what the f*ck is wrong with you?”

Cady lifts her head from where it’s currently resting on her folded hands on top of her desk to see Janis in the doorway of her office.

“Lovely to see you, too,” Cady mutters.

“Wow, sarcasm. You must really be going through it,” Janis says. She takes a seat across from Cady. “Do I need to go bust down Regina’s door or something?”

“How do you know this is about Regina?” Cady asks, although she knows it’s a silly question. Everything that hasn’t been explicitly about work lately has been about Regina, and Janis has been quite generous in tolerating it.

Janis just pats Cady’s hand. “You haven’t told me how the sun shines out Regina’s ass yet today. I put two and two together.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cady grumbles.

“And I didn’t particularly want to talk about it every other time I’ve had to hear about her, so sometimes in friendships we make sacrifices.”

“Get out of my office,” Cady says with a groan. “You’re fired.”

“You fired me yesterday,” Janis says. “They’ve canceled each other out, so unfortunately for both of us, I’m still here.”

“I told Regina I want us to be in a relationship,” Cady admits after a few minutes of Janis just staring at her.

“And she said yes and then you rode off into a sunset together?” Janis asks sarcastically.

“How did you know?”

“It was in the Post.”

If only Janis knew how not-funny that is at this moment.

“Well, get it together,” Janis says, tapping on the desk. “You have a rally on the steps in half an hour.”

“About what?” Cady asks. Maybe she can get out of it.

“The CUNY budget.”

She can’t get out of it.

“I don’t care,” Cady whines.

“In half an hour, you do!” Janis says brightly. “Let’s not become the ire of the city today, alright? And brush your hair.”

There is a massive, Regina-sized hole in Cady’s life. Cady can only imagine the jokes Damian would make if she said that out loud, but it’s true. She misses Regina, feels her absence in her bones.

She knows Regina is giving her space; she doesn’t really think she could stomach watching a movie together or having sex with Cady’s ultimatum hanging over their heads. But it’s torture.

When Cady is woken up in the middle of the night by her phone ringing, she has to read the caller ID three times before she realizes she isn’t dreaming and Regina is calling her.

“Gi?” Cady mumbles into the phone, rubbing a hand down her face. “You okay?”

There’s careful, measured breathing on the other line, like Regina is deliberately counting the length of her breaths. It’s something she does when she’s trying to calm herself down, and Cady knows by that alone why Regina is calling.

“Hey,” Regina says eventually. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” Cady says, siting up. “I’m here. What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Regina whispers, panic edging her voice. Cady’s chest physically aches with the desire to be able to hold her. “Can you just… talk?”

“Okay,” Cady says. She wracks her tired brain for something to talk about. Not work—definitely not work. “Did I ever tell you about the time a lion cub wandered into our camp when I was ten?”

“No,” Regina replies, and there’s some rustling, like she’s getting comfortable.

So Cady tells her the story, describing it in as much detail as she can remember, and adds some made-up stuff, too. She doesn’t think Regina particularly cares. She talks until Regina’s breathing sounds natural—not rushed, not deliberately even—and soon, Regina yawns.

“I think I’m gonna go back to sleep,” Regina mumbles into the phone. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Cady says softly. “You can call me anytime.”

“Thank you,” Regina says again. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams,” Cady says.

She hangs up and lies awake, staring at her ceiling, for a long time.

It’s not that Cady really expected Regina to come to her desk before Stated and talk to her like everything is normal, but it does still hurt when Regina comes into chambers and walks right to her own desk. She wants to pull Regina aside and ask if she’s doing okay after the other night, but she spends a moment thinking about it and cannot imagine something Regina would hate more.

Cady’s phone vibrates with a text.

Damian Hubbard: oop

Damian Hubbard: bigger snub than chita rivera in west side story

Cady glares at Damian where he’s sitting with the other staffers to the side of the dais, and sits on her hands to resist the urge to flip him off.

Stated begins with little fanfare, although there are a couple more photographers milling around than usual—not surprising, considering a controversial bill is on the agenda. Cady spends most of the proceedings sneaking glances at Regina, whose eyes stay resolutely on her phone.

Finally, it’s time to vote on the general orders agenda. Cady props her chin in her hand and counts the negative votes. There’s only one Regina is called on for her vote.

“Permission to explain my vote?” Regina asks into her microphone.

“Go ahead,” Grace says.

“I have concerns with Intro 908. I think I’ve been pretty clear about that. I agree that oversight is an essential function of this body, and that the mayor wields a great power in his ability to unilaterally appoint the commissioners of almost every city agency—perhaps too great a power. However, I don’t know that grinding the appointment process to a halt by requiring advice and consent solves that problem. I wish that this Council had had more time to review and discuss the language of this bill, especially considering it will require a voter referendum and a charter revision.”

Cady notices some members rolling their eyes, whispering comments to each other.

“Isn’t it ironic,” Kevin says quietly to Cady, “that she’s always the one slowing down proceedings?”

Cady just elbows him.

“However,” Regina says, and Cady notices she’s twisting her fingers together, “in light of some recent conversations, I believe that the intent behind this bill is a good one, though my reservations remain. I hope to continue conversations with the Speaker and the mayor about the appointment process moving forward. With that, I vote aye on all, with the exception of Intro 908, on which I abstain.”

There are some murmurings that ripple through chambers, and one dramatic gasp that Cady is pretty sure is Damian. Cady just stares at the side of Regina’s head, watching dumbly as Regina turns to look at her—

And winks.

It takes Cady several moments to realize that she’s being called on for her vote. She fumbles to turn on her microphone and quickly mutters, “Aye on all.” Then she stares at the wall for the remainder of the hearing, head spinning.

The unfortunate thing about being at work is that there are other people around them, and Cady can’t launch herself at Regina and start asking a million questions. Instead, she has to act normal—or, at least, relatively normal—while inside City Hall.

“Hey, what the f*ck just happened?” Janis asks in a hushed voice when Cady gets down into the members’ lounge.

“I have no idea,” Cady whispers. “The last time I talked to Regina about abstaining she was not receptive.”

Janis snorts. “I’ll bet.”

A hand on Cady’s arm makes her jump. She turns and sees Sharon smiling at her.

“Hey, Cady, thanks so much,” Sharon says. “I don’t know how you did it.”

“I don’t, either,” Cady says, and Sharon laughs like Cady is making a joke.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Sharon says. “Let’s talk if we do get a veto.”

“Um, sure,” Cady replies, and Sharon excuses herself.

Cady lingers in the members’ lounge for another half hour, but Regina doesn’t come in, and Cady eventually has to head out to speak at a rally. She’s on the train when she gets a text from Regina.

Regina George: we’ll talk later

Cady is in her pajamas, curled up on her couch with a book when someone rings her doorbell. She isn’t expecting anyone, so she almost ignores it in favor of staying in her comfortable position, when the doorbell chimes again, not more than fifteen seconds later.

She knows immediately that it’s Regina, forever impatient, loathe to be kept waiting even when showing up unannounced.

Cady practically trips over her feet to get to her door. Regina is standing there when she opens it, still looking crisply put-together, although she’s ditched her blazer and is just in her blouse and slacks. Cady is suddenly aware that she’s in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants she stole from Regina. She also realizes that her apartment is kind of a mess, not having bothered to put all the shoes by the front door into the closet or to fold her throw blankets like she did when Regina was coming over a few times a week.

“Hey,” Cady says breathlessly. She surreptitiously kicks a pair of sneakers to the side.

“Hi,” Regina says. After a moment of staring at each other, she asks, “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Cady says, moving out of the way. The door slams shut behind Regina, and she watches Regina shrink by three inches as she removes her heels.

Cady leads Regina into her living room and returns to her seat on the couch. For some reason, she’s relieved that Regina chooses to sit next to her instead of in the armchair.

“So,” Cady says after a minute, “you abstained.”

Regina smiles a little. “I did.”

“Why?”

Regina’s smile grows a bit more. “Someone got in my ear.”

Cady feels a tiny pinprick of hope in her chest. “Was she hot?”

“Yes,” Regina says, “but that isn’t why I did it.”

“Then why?”

“That’s what you do in a relationship,” Regina tells her. “You listen to each other, and sometimes you compromise.”

Cady’s eyes widen as the words register in her brain. Regina is looking at her, smile almost hesitant, fingers twisting together. Without thinking, Cady reaches out and grabs those hands, squeezing them.

“Really?” Cady asks.

“Yeah,” Regina says. “If you still want to.”

Cady almost laughs out loud. If she still wants to? The idea that she wouldn’t want to spend the rest of her life here on this very couch next to Regina George is so crazy that what comes out of her mouth is, “You’re insane.”

“That isn’t a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend,” Regina tells her.

Cady pounces, knocking Regina back against the couch and settling in her lap. Regina makes an exaggerated oomph noise, as if Cady had dropped onto her from ten feet above, but her hands automatically find Cady’s hips.

“Do you mean it?” Cady whispers, their faces inches apart. She feels like there’s a bubble expanding in her chest, filling it with something soft and warm.

Regina just nods, and the bubble bursts. Cady crashes their lips together, instantly feeling the hole Regina’s absence left being filled in and paved over. She has an irresistible urge to be closer, wants to meld together until they’re one flesh, and she frantically works on the buttons on Regina’s shirt so she can press her hand to Regina’s chest to feel her heart beating.

“No take-backs,” Cady mutters against her mouth, and Regina bites into her lower lip in response. Instinctively, Cady’s hips rock down into Regina’s, and she feels Regina’s grin against her mouth.

“Return window has closed,” Regina agrees, hands sliding under Cady’s shirt. Her smirk turns devilish when she realizes Cady isn’t wearing a bra.

Cady feels hot all over, pushing clumsily at Regina’s shirt until Regina sits up a bit to slide it off her shoulders. The bra she’s wearing is one of Cady’s favorites, a soft blue that matches Regina’s eyes.

Cady leans back a bit, taking a moment to admire the sight of Regina on her couch, lips kiss-swollen and hair spilling over her bare shoulders. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but it feels different now, knowing Regina is hers and nobody else’s, like she’s finally found a treasure after searching for years.

“What are you staring at, weirdo?” Regina asks.

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Cady replies with a shrug.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m off the market.”

Cady sighs. “How sad. You must have a very hot girlfriend.”

Regina pretends to think about this. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Cady pouts, but Regina kisses it off of her face.

“I have to conduct some research first,” Regina says. She tugs at Cady’s shirt, and it soon joins Regina’s on the floor.

Cady watches, a shiver running down her spine, as Regina’s eyes darken at the sight of Cady’s bare chest.

“I do, in fact, have a very hot girlfriend,” Regina confirms. “Thank you for participating in my study.”

Cady feels heat rush through her body at Regina’s words, and her hips jerk involuntarily.

Regina’s eyebrows rise. “Don’t tell me you have an academia kink.”

“Shut up,” Cady says. “I do not.”

“I can call you professor, if you want,” Regina offers with a mischievous grin.

“Shut up,” Cady repeats, “and do something better with your mouth.”

Turns out Regina is an excellent student who follows instruction well.

“Come on, there has to be some song you know.”

“Knowing a song does not equate to a desire to sing that song.”

“Actually,” Janis says, interrupting the karaoke negotiations. “Regina should know the Seussical score.”

Regina goes very still. “Who told you that?”

“I can’t reveal my sources,” Janis replies, smirk wide and smug. “But rest assured that they’re reliable.”

“I’m gonna f*cking kill Shane,” Regina mutters.

“Wait, were you in Seussical?” Damian practically shouts.

“Shut the f*ck up!” Regina hisses, and Cady’s grasp tightens on her arm to keep her from lunging across the table at Damian.

“You’re looking at one Mayzie La Bird,” Janis confirms, and Cady has to plug her ears against the shriek Damian lets out.

“I’m gonna f*cking murder you,” Regina says, pointing a finger at Janis. “I was twelve.”

“Just sing one song with me and we’ll never speak of it again,” Damian begs.

Frankly, Cady is surprised they even got Regina through the door of Marie’s Crisis. It probably helped that she didn’t know what it was—plus, Cady has found that Regina will do just about anything Cady asks if she says please.

“Come on,” Cady cajoles, kissing Regina’s cheek. “For me? I’ll make it worth your while,” she says, and pointedly ignores the exaggerated gagging noise Janis makes.

Regina holds her irritated expression before deflating. “One time, that’s it,” she says forcefully. “And nobody films it, or I break your phone.”

Damian holds his hand out to shake. “Deal.”

With a dramatic groan, Regina follows Damian to the piano, where he slips a few singles into the tip jar and gives his request.

If someone had told Cady three months ago that she would be in Marie’s Crisis watching Damian and Regina George bringing down the house with their rendition of “Amayzing Mayzie”—and that, in fact, it would be one of the hottest things she’d ever experienced—Cady would not have even been able to fathom those words being in the same sentence.

But now? It makes perfect sense.