Page 24 of Last First Kiss
When the front door clicks shut behind her, I head to the bathroom, trying to shake off whatever that moment was.
Once I’m inside, I close the door and lean back against it, pressing my palms flat against the wood. I inhale deeply, then exhale, trying to steady the flutter of nerves in my chest. I turn the handle and step in, letting the warm water cascade over my skin. The steam fills my lungs as I inhale deeply, eyes closed, and the tension in my shoulders starts to melt away as the warmth wraps around me, soothing the knots that have tightened throughout the day. I let my hands rest on the cool tiles, trying to ground myself.
But my mind won’t let it go.
That almost-kiss plays on repeat. The way my lipsbrushed the corner of hers, barely—but enough to feel it. Enough to spark a deep want in me. Her breath had hitched. Iknowit had, or am I making this up? Fuck, I can’t even trust my brain right now. It didn’t. Alejandra doesn’t have these complicated feelings that I do.
I stand in the shower for far too long, letting the water run down my body until it turns slightly too cold and I need to step out.
As I walk past the bedroom door that’s slightly ajar, I hear Lala say something I don’t quite catch. I pause, towel-drying my hair when I catch the soft murmur of Alejandra’s voice. I wasn’t planning on eavesdropping, but something about her tone makes me linger.
“Does she make you happy?” Lala asks, her voice gentle.
Alejandra chuckles. “Yeah, she does.”
My heart does a silly little flip.
Lala hums approvingly. “I always knew you’d find your way to each other. I’m happy to see you both so happy, mamita.”
“What made you think Clara and I would ever be more than friends?” Alejandra asks, her voice soft.
“Mmm ... I can’t say there was just one moment when it all made sense to me. But when you both told me you liked girls, my heart just felt it. And the thought of you two together made sense. The more I watched your friendship grow, and how close you were, how much you cared for each other, the more it all seemed ... right.” I swear I hear a smile in her voice.
Alejandra hums, probably wrapping her head around it all.
“The best relationships come from friendships. Did you know your grandfather was my childhood best friend, too?” Lala asks.
Alejandra laughs softly, “Yeah, I did.”
“I’m so glad you two decided to date. I was starting to worry it wouldn’t happen.”
Alejandra’s quiet for a beat, and then, softer than before, she says, “Yeah ... me too.”
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the doorframe for a second before finally stepping away with my heart clenched into a fist. Because even if everything Lala is saying is true, Alejandra and I are lying, and the weight of that is heavy on my chest.
I sit at the edge of the bed, trying to rein in my thoughts, but it’s impossible not to dissect every word I just heard. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but the next thing I know, there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by Lala’s sweet face emerging from beyond it.
“I made dinner. Come eat,” Lala says.
“I’ll be right out,” I reply, hoping to get one more minute to collect myself before pretending I didn’t hear their conversation. To pretend it isn’t tearing me apart that Alejandra and I aren’t giving this a real shot, even though I know I never would have. Not even if she’d asked. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself have this—haveher—and it all falls apart, I’ll lose too much. Maybe that’s the most cowardly kind of love there is, but I’m okay with that.
When I’ve gotten a semblance of composure back, I head to the kitchen.
Alejandra lights up the second she sees me, and it makes my chest tighten. “How was your shower?” she asks, stepping closer and tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
“Fine,” I say, not looking at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with so much concern, it hurts. How does she know me so well?
“Nothing.” I do my best to put on a genuine smile, but Alejandra narrows her eyes at me slightly. She’s not buying it, but thankfully doesn’t push it.
We make our plates and sit at the dining room table. It’s not where Alejandra and I usually have dinner—we’re more of the eat-on-the-couch type—but the last time we tried that when Lala was over, she scolded us for a good thirty minutes about “how that’s not where one eats.”
When Lala joins us at the table, we dig in. Alejandra and I live on takeout and frozen meals, so having a homemade meal is always welcome.
Valeria has been dropping off food here once a week for years now, worried that Alejandra and I aren’t eating properly, and I can’t say we are. We order burgers and fries at least three times a week.
“This is delicious,” Alejandra says after her first bite.
