Page 39 of Last First Kiss
I feel a buzz in my pocket, and when I grab my phone, I have a message from Valeria.
Valeria 2:00 p.m.:
I’m so sorry! I have the worst timing. Were you and Ale KISSING????????????
Clara 2:00 p.m.:
We weren’t!!! but i think ... maybe we were going to? IDK IDK
Valeria 2:00 p.m.:
Well, ale was nervous rambling soooo
God, I have to find a way to get her alone again, and soon. I need answers. I need to know what it means. Is this her testing if she’s interested in me, or is this a genuine interest?
I stand from the couch and head back outside, where everyone is still practicing and hanging out. The cold is biting, but I barely notice because the warmth filling me right now is all-consuming.
I do my best to pay attention to Patty, but all I can focus on is that I almost kissed Alejandra! Fuck, I was so close. If it weren’t for Valeria, I would have, and I wish I had because Alejandra hadn’t pulled away.
The rest of our day at Diana’s was pretty uneventful. We practiced the choreography some more, but the entire time, my eyes were fixed on Alejandra. The way she moved around people to take pictures. The nervous smirk that appeared on her face whenever her eyes caught mine. It was subtle, but it made my heart race like nothing else.
When we made it back home, Lala was still with us, so Alejandra and I didn’t get to talk about much aside from the choreography, fill Lala in on why we hated Brooke, and show her the pictures Alejandra was thinking about printing for Diana to make an album for her and Alex. Then Lala started making dinner and requested that Alejandra help her out. So, I lay on the couch watching a random show I barely paid attention to as I scrolled through social media and answered some work emails.
I don’t usually look at them during the weekend, but aimlessly scrolling through social media isn’t giving my brain the Alejandra break it needs, and I’m desperate for something else to occupy my attention.
After dinner, Alejandra offloads the pictures she took and begins to edit them, and before I know it, she’s asleep on the couch. I guess this conversation is going to have to wait.
I take her iPad and stylus from her hands and set them on the coffee table. Throw a blanket over her and sitbeside her. Watch her sleep for a while. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I lie on the couch next to her, studying her in the dark, wondering about the many ways this could go wrong because the options are endless, but I remind myself that this is Alejandra.
The one who knows—in far too much detail—the ins and outs of every aspect of my life. Alejandra, who listens to me when I’ve had a bad day and does everything in her power to fix it. Alejandra, my best friend since forever, whom I now can’t stop thinking about in a strictly not friendly way. Wondering what sounds she makes, how she feels, what she tastes like, and it’s dizzying to want to know this badly. I want to know more than anything in the world, I have for years, and have silently cursed everyone who’s gotten the chance to find out.
Valeria’s voice from a few days ago plays in my mind on a loop: “If anyone can figure this out, it’s you two.”
I rub my eyes until they water, and throw my arms over my face. I know she’s right ... I know we could, but is it worth taking the risk and maybe losing it all? That’s the part I can’t decide on.
Even if she felt the same way, there’s no guarantee that we’d work out. Some people are only meant to be friends, no matter how fucking electric the connection feels. Alejandra makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. She makes me feel safe. She listens when I need her to. She knows when to wrap me up tight because I feel like I’m falling apart and she’s the only thing keeping me together. And she knows when to give me space. Those things make her an amazing best friend and will make her the perfect partner for someone. Someone who isn’t me. Because it can’t be me, no matter how many years I’ve fantasized aboutwhat it would be like to kiss her again after all these years, to hold her in ways I have before, but also completely differently. To know her in the most profound and most intimate ways, as only a partner can.
I reach for my phone, needing something to distract me—anything to stop my thoughts from spinning out. I scroll through social media, not paying much attention, just thumbing through.
“Hey,” Alejandra says groggily.
“Hey.”
“What time is it?” she asks through a yawn, the sweetest, softest sound.
I glance at my phone. “It’s 11:30.”
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was waiting for you to wake up, so we could go together.”
Alejandra smiles and nods. “Let’s go then.”
Alejandra disappears into the bathroom, the quiet click of the door closing sounding in the distance. A few minutes later, she slips into bed beside me.
“Are you in your outside clothes?” she asks, and I look down.
