Free Burn the Brightest by Erin Sheppard Page A

office door after her freshman research methods class on Monday, leaning there with her ankles crossed. "Thanks for dropping my car off. You could have left it on campus."
    Edith shrugged, saving the latest draft of her journal article and gesturing for Tara to come in and close the door. It wasn't that she thought the students passing by would mind hearing the sexual exploits Tara was likely to share, but Edith preferred to at least fake a level of professionalism. "I kept it to get groceries on Saturday. I figured you wouldn't need it."
    Tara gave her a smug, satisfied smile. "No, we had other plans for the day." Edith rolled her eyes out of habit, but Tara side-tracked suddenly. "Dan knows the girl you were talking to at the barbeque—Jo?"
    "Okay," Edith said. She'd assumed Dan would. Everyone at those things knew her , and she almost never went.
    "She's pretty," Tara said, too casually, then, "She's a lesbian, you know."
    "Okay," Edith said again. "You remember that talk we had about you trying to set me up with every woman you think is gay?"
    "It's totally not my fault she was married," Tara protested. "Partner's a gender neutral term."
    "Sure," Edith said. She really didn't want to remember that disastrous attempt at a date. She'd thought people only threw their drinks at other people in the movies, and she hadn't exactly wanted to be proven wrong with a glass of red wine.
    "Anyway, I know Jo's a lesbian; Dan told me."
    "And how does Dan know? His gaydar's for shit."
    Tara tipped her hand side-to-side, conceding the point. "She told him. They're good friends. They were at Annapolis together."
    "Wait a minute," Edith said, light dawning. Someone attached to one of the sailors would have immediately announced who they were with. "She's Navy?" Tara at least had the grace to look a little ashamed for the few seconds Edith stared at her before standing up and pacing across her tiny office. "Tell me you weren't planning to set me up with her."
    "Not exactly," Tara said, twisting in her seat to watch Edith. "I just thought I'd mention it in case you were interested. You don't usually talk to anyone at these things, and she's—"
    "I don't want to know what she is," Edith snapped. It came out sharper than she'd meant it to, wavering with hurt she didn't want to show. "I told you—I told you why I don't... I only went because it was your birthday."
    "I know." Tara stood up and caught Edith's elbow. "I know; I'm sorry." She ducked her head a little, and Edith let her catch her eye. Tara looked genuinely remorseful; Edith had never been able to stay mad at her for long. It was part of how she'd ended up best friends with the University of Maryland's newest military sociologist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
    "I know," Edith said, caving. "But don't, okay?"
    "All right." Tara tugged gently on Edith's elbow, drawing her in for a hug, and when she said "I'm sorry" again, Edith knew it was for more than just trying to set her up with a naval officer.
    Edith had pretty much forgotten the whole thing by Friday as she stood at the side of the ice rink, waiting for the stewards to declare the lunchtime public skating session open. Tara always laughed at her for driving thirty minutes each way to skate for an hour, but the ice was usually quiet, and Edith's afternoon class didn't start until three.
    "Hello, again," someone said behind her.
    Edith turned, expecting to see one of the other skaters, someone she'd run into before. Instead, she found herself face-to-face again with Jo, this time in jeans, a dark blue hoodie, and white skates. She was smiling, but it started to fade when Edith didn't say anything.
    "I'm Jo? We met last weekend, at Tara's party on the beach?"
    "I remember, thank you," Edith said. She couldn't quite bring herself to turn away, which meant she got to watch Jo's face fall even further. She was pretty, actually—her hair curled oddly around her face, and she had nice eyes. Edith was always a sucker for a