Page 68 of Last First Kiss
I nod, knowing we should, but definitely not wanting to.
Clara and I head outside, get into her car, and start the one-hour drive to Capitol Hill from Stanwood.
When we finally make it, it takes us forever to find parking. The streets are packed with cars and people.
We finally park a few blocks away and walk toward the club, the music growing louder with each step. Neon lights flicker from the entrance, casting bright shadows on the sidewalk. The line is so long it wraps around the corner.
While we wait, she slips her arm around my waist. The line’s barely moving, but I don’t mind, not with her pressed against me.
When we finally reach the front, Clara pulls open the heavy club door, and a rush of heat hits me. The place is packed.
Clara’s hand brushes against mine, and without thinking, I lace my fingers through hers. The gesture is so natural, like it’s always been this easy to reach for her. She gives me a quick smile before tugging me gently through the crowd, weaving between swaying bodies. Clara’s grip never loosens as she guides us toward the bar.
The Wildrose is a small club, but it’s so popular that anytime you come, you’re packed in like a sardine. Still, it’s hard to care when you’re surrounded by sapphics dancing around you.
Clara and I spent a good chunk of our early twenties at this club, hooking up with random women in the bathrooms, which is impressive considering how small they are. I barely fit in there myself now. I don’t know how two of us ever fit in there.
She leans against the counter and flags down the bartender, ordering a couple of drinks while I hover close beside her, one hand still wrapped in hers.
“We’ll wait here for the rest,” she says, pressing a cold glass into my hand and brushing her thumb lightly across my knuckles.
We sip our drinks, standing hip to hip, her shoulder gently bumping mine every time she leans in to say something, but I can’t make out the words over the music.
My phone buzzes. I glance down and smile.
Diana 10:45 p.m.:
we’re in line! be there soon.
“She’s here.” I show Clara the screen. Just as I do, Diana and Alex walk in, along with a few of their friends, followed by Isabella, Lily, and Valeria, who all come racing toward us.
“How’d you guys get through the line so fast?”
“Isabella knows the bouncer,” Lily answers.
Of course she does.
“How are you guys?” Isabella eyes mine and Clara’s intertwined fingers.
Before we can answer, Diana throws her arms around us, pulling us into a big hug. The scent of tequila is already strong on her breath.
“I’m getting married!” she squeals, and I chuckle.
Diana is usually super composed, but the moment alcohol hits her system, she turns loud, fun, and a little wild. Not that she isn’t fun sober, but she lets loose when she’s been drinking.
“Let’s dance,” she shouts, leading the group toward the dance floor.
We all follow, squeezing through the crowd. People throw us annoyed looks for cutting through their space, though honestly, maybe they’re just annoyed at me, because when I glance back at Clara, women are happily stepping to the side, smiling at her, giving her all sorts of sex eyes, and I can’t help my twinge of jealousy at the way all these women look at her. But it quickly fades when I realizeClara isn’t paying attention to any of them; she only has eyes for me, utterly oblivious to the sea of longing women in her path.
Clara reaches for my hand, and the rush of emotions hits me hard. This stunning, brilliant, incredible woman is here withme. How did I get so lucky?
I can’t hold back. I throw myself into her arms, pressing my lips to hers. She gasps in surprise, but it only takes a second before she melts into the kiss.
Somewhere behind us, our friends start cheering and whistling, laughing and shouting things like“Finally!”and“Get a room!”
As I start to laugh into the kiss, I hear it.
“Wow.” Flat. Cold. Drenched in sarcasm. It cuts through the noise like a blade, and every hair on my neck stands on end.
