Page 26 of Last First Kiss
Eventually, Alejandra had fallen asleep in my bed, curled beside me, eyes red and puffy, her breath still unsteady from her sobbing.
“Oh, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” Lala says, her eyes filled with tears.
A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly brush it away, realizing I’ve been crying, too. Warmth rises in my cheeks, and my heart stutters as Lala swoons and Alejandra blushes. I guess the best lies have some truth in them, because I swear, even I almost believe her.
“How about you? When did you realize it?” Lala asks, and I can’t help but giggle. I know the moment I fell for her, but I can’t say that to them without completely outing myself. So, I settle for a version of it.
“It took me a while to realize that what she and I have could be something more, and when I did, I fought it,” I say, because it’s the truth. “I was scared to lose her. But once it clicked, I couldn’t ignore it. Being with her feels easy—I don’t have to pretend or push myself to be someone I’m not. She’s always seen me—completelyseen me—and loved me anyway, through every version of myself, even the ones I didn’t like. With her, I feel the mostmeI’ve ever been.” I lift Alejandra’s hand to my lips and press a soft kiss on her knuckles.
Lala hums, and Alejandra gives me a small, gentle smile.
“I’ve known her for so long, and no matter how much time goes by, she keeps helping me grow. Being around her makes me better. You’d have to be naive to let her slip away. Maybe ... this was inevitable, just the way you said, Lala.”
I turn toward Alejandra, who’s got an impossibly cute smile on her lips. Her free hand reaches for my thigh, her fingers curling around it, and a fire sparks through my veins. I fist my hands, trying to contain the butterflies and wait for her hand to drop, but it doesn’t.
“That’s all I ever wanted for you both. For you to find someone who feels like home,” Lala says sweetly.
“She’s always been that, though,” Alejandra says before I can reply. “Clara has always been more than my best friend; she’s my home, my heart, the safest place in the world. Everything good in the world couldn’t compare to all the good she is. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
I don’t move. I barely breathe. I’ve heard all this before, Iknowall this. Alejandra says it all the time. But her saying it now makes my heart so full, I think it might burst. I feel the same way about her—differently, I know, but the same.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How can someone see you so clearlybut only love you as a friend, while you’re head over heels wishing they could see something more?
Lala seems happy with our answers and eases her interrogation. Instead, we talk about Diana’s wedding, which is in ten days, and everything we have coming up—her dance rehearsals, the DIY centerpiece party, and her bachelorette.
After dinner, the rest of the night passes in a blur. Lala and I watchCatfish—a show I have her watching because she loves talking to strangers online.
Alejandra sits with us, half paying attention as she edits pictures.
Lala goes to bed around 9 p.m., but Alejandra and I stay in the living room watchingArcanefor another hour.
“Thank you for today,” Alejandra says out of nowhere.
“Of course. You think she bought it?”
“Yeah, I think so. But that was too close. We need to figure out our story, or shewillsee through it.”
I nod. “Maybe we can talk about it now?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
I glance behind us, half expecting to find her eavesdropping, but her door is closed.
“So, we’ve been together for a few weeks?” I ask.
She pulls her phone out and starts tapping out notes. “Let’s go with three weeks since we told her almost two weeks ago.”
“Okay, we’ve been officially together for three weeks,” I repeat.
“Best three weeks of my life.” Alejandra winks, and I feel it straight in my core.
I suppress a grin, trying not to let that damn wink get to me. I press my thighs together, easing the jolt it’s sending through me.
“Okay, and we know how we got together after I sweptyou off your feet with an overly romantic talk about your amazingness,” I say, trying to distract myself from the pulse between my thighs.
“Right,” she agrees.
“And you couldn’t help yourself, and you threw yourself at me because I’m such a romantic.”
