Page 37 of Last First Kiss
My dance with Diana is—thankfully—over shortly after; somehow, talking to her made my dancing skills better; okay, maybe not better, but at least we didn’t fall.
As the music fades, I let out a breath and pull Diana into a hug.
She squeezes me hard before letting go. “It’ll be okay,” she says.
I take in the biggest breath I can manage and walk toward Lala. Thankfully, I don’t have to figure it all out right now. Diana and Alex’s dance is next, and I want to get a few pictures of them.
They take the center of the room, and Patty begins guiding them through their choreography. They are laughing as they move, their steps a little chaotic but somehow perfectly in sync. Diana twirls, nearly tripping over her own feet, and Alex catches her, both of them dissolving into uncontrollable laughter.
I raise my camera, ready to catch the blur of movement, but I pause and watch them. There’s something magnetic about the way Diana and Alex dance together, like they’re in their own little world. They’re everything I hope for someday—four years strong, and somehow still looking at each other like it’s the first time.
I snap a bunch of shots as they practice—Diana mid-laugh, arms looped around Alex’s shoulders, the two of them spinning clumsily. It’s so cute I can’t stop smiling behind the lens.
Before the music ends, they lean in to kiss, and I try to take a picture of them, but my camera beeps, letting me know there’s absolutely no more space. Damn it ... Rookie mistake. I should have brought an SD card with more storage, but I didn’t think there would be so many cute moments to capture at a dance rehearsal.
I step inside the house, and the warmth of the heater wraps around me like a blanket—a soft, welcome contrast to the biting cold outside.
I sit on the couch in the living room and start scrolling through the pictures I’ve taken, trying to delete any that are blurry, improperly lit, or past the point of saving in Lightroom or Photoshop.
Not even thirty seconds later, Clara settles next to me, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but far enough that the space between us stretches out like an ocean.
“You and Dee looked good out there,” she says, blowing into her hands and rubbing them.
I steal a glance at her. She’s staring out into the distance, watching Diana. Clara’s profile is soft in the dim glow, and the way her blue hair catches the light makes my heart flutter. Clara is so beautiful, so utterly captivating, I don’t think I could ever get bored of staring at her. Even the redness on her nose from the cold is adorable.
“You think so?” I say with a soft laugh. “I look ridiculous anytime I try to dance.”
“Not at all,” Clara says. “You were very cute.” She smiles as she scoots closer to me. “What are you looking at?” She leans over my shoulder.
I tilt the camera enough so we can both see the pictures as I scroll through them, suddenly nervous. Clara is the only one who sees my unedited pictures, mainly because she’s a nosy little thing. But I also trust her more than I trust myself when it comes to my photography. It’s easy for me to get lost in perfectionism, and she’s always there to calm my overthinking.
But the nerves have nothing to do with these being RAW images and everything to do with the fact that I’ve been scrolling for a good thirty seconds now, and all she’s seen are pictures of her with her dance partner, and a bunch of just her mid-laugh.
“These are so good.” Clara smiles, bumping her shoulder against mine.
I gulp, preparing myself for her to say something about all the pictures of her. But she doesn’t.
“Oh, this one is my favorite,” she says instead, pressing her body tighter against my side as she leans her chin on my shoulder and points to a picture on my camera.
But I don’t even glance at whatever she’s pointing to—because all I can focus on is the heat that sparks through me at her closeness. It spreads fast, surging lower when Clara nuzzles into my neck. I don’t know what’s changed—maybe it’s that I’m letting myselffeelthis pull between us instead of chalking it up to our closeness—but right now, it’s impossible to ignore. I want Clara. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. It’s a want that burns—hot and insistent—in my chest, in my blood, beneath my skin, like I’ve been waiting for this and didn’t even know it.
“Diana and Alex look so in love in this one; it makes me want to throw up,” Clara says, her warm breath ghosting against my skin. My breath catches as Clara leans further into me, her lips dangerously close to my neck. “Don’t you think?”
I study the picture, and it’s of Diana and Alex in the middle of a dip, their mouths open in laughter.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to ignore the fuzziness at my fingertips that makes my hands shake a little, but it’s impossible as Clara inches even closer than before.
Her cold hands slip beneath my sweater as she wraps her arms around my waist, and the shock of her cool touch against the warmth of my skin is electric. The silk of my shirt feels entirely too thin and simultaneously too thick, making the edges of my brain fuzzy.
I lean into Clara as we both turn to watch Diana andAlex waltz around, utterly happy and in love. An ache stirs in my chest—not jealousy, not really, just a deep longing.
I don’t want what they haveinsteadof them. I simply wish I had something like it, too. Clara’s arms tighten around me, and it only makes the lump in my throat grow as a swarm of butterflies stirs low in my belly. I exhale sharply, trying to push them away, but they linger.
“So, I saw you talking to Olivia. She seems nice,” I say, trying to tame the liquid fire stirring low in my belly. This is my best friend, and it shouldn’t be so hard for me to see her with someone else.
Clara shifts next to me, her body tense. “Yeah, she’s very sweet. She kind of asked me out.”
I turn to her so quickly my neck stiffens.
