Page 80 of Last First Kiss
She nods. A small, hopeful smile breaking through. “Yeah,” she says. “Really.”
Neither of us moves, and the room feels still, like the air is holding its breath right alongside us.
“Clara, I want to be with you. I don’t even want New York if it means losing you. I was only going because I thought it would help me move on. I’d convinced myself that I couldn’t love anyone if I stayed in Stanwood because most of my memories of Mia are here. But I can. And I do. And I don’t want my past to ruin the future I could have with you.”
“What about your job offer?”
“It’s a great opportunity, sure, but it’s not like they’re the only path to success for me. Would it make things easier? Yeah, maybe. But it would mean leaving you, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.”
Before I can even process the movement, her lips are onmine, urgent, a dam breaking, and it steals the breath from my lungs. For a heartbeat, I’m frozen, not out of hesitation but because nothing in the world has ever felt so unexpected andrightall at once.
Then I’m kissing her back, my hands finding her waist, her face, anything to make sure this is real, that I’m not dreaming. This kiss is messy and desperate. We both don’t know how to stop now that we’ve started.
When we finally pull apart, our foreheads rest together, both of us breathless. She looks at me—eyes dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with a hunger I’ve never seen from her before. I feel it in every nerve, in every place her hands still linger on my skin. But as much as I want to give in to this, to let her forget about New York and her opportunities there, the last thing I want is to be the reason she doesn’t chase her dreams—the thought claws at the edge of my brain. I look at her, and that beautiful spark in her eyes—it deserves everything, even if it breaks me.
I take a shaky breath, my voice low. “Ale ... I need you to know something.”
She blinks, eyebrows pulling together gently. “What is it?”
“I meant every word I said. Every single one.” I touch her cheek, memorizing the shape of her beneath my hand. “But if you still want to go to New York ... youhaveto go. I won’t be the thing that holds you back. I couldn’t live with that. You deserve everything you’ve worked for. Even if it means ...”
I can’t finish the sentence, so instead, I kiss her.
Softly. Desperately. Hoping it says everything I can’t. That I love her. That I want her to chase every dream she’s ever had. That I’ll be proud of her, even from a distance. That I want this even if it means being indifferent places.
My lungs burn as I struggle for a steady inhale, and an ache settles in my chest as I imagine life without her in it every day, without her laugh filling our home, without the perfect rituals we’ve built and the safety of her presence. The thought of missing out on all that is unbearable.
Tears stream down both our faces.
“I don’t want to,” she whispers. “I thought I did. But now ...”
She trails off, her breath catching. Her hand finds mine, fingers trembling slightly as they intertwine. “You’ve changed everything.”
Another tear slips down my cheek, and I don’t stop it. I want to say it.I’ll go to New York.But the words catch in my throat.
New York.The words land heavily. It’s everything I’ve never imagined for myself, everything outside the life I’ve always known. The girls, my roots, my entire world is here. It’s home. But Alejandra ... she’s home, too. Maybe even more than this place ever was.
Could I leave? I mean, yeah, I work remotely. My company has offices in New York. Logistically, it’s not impossible. Not even close. The thought of discovering a new city with Alejandra, of building something together in a place that’s all ours ... that does sound kind of amazing. But there’s something equally terrifying about leaving the one place that’s held me through every version of myself. The streets I know like the back of my hand, the people who’ve watched me grow, the comfort of the familiar.
It feels like a lose-lose situation.
Over the past few days, the thought of moving to New York has followed me everywhere, making it impossible for me to focus on work.
I don’t know how I’m feeling or what I’m supposed to do. Alejandra seems to think everything is fine between us—and in so many ways, it is. But I’m still confused, a little hurt, and more than a little lost about what happens next. She’s already imagining our life in New York, and being around her makes me want to tell her I’ll go, that I’ll drop everything to be with her, even though I have this gut instinct that New York isn’t for me.
I need some space and time to figure things out on my own, without Alejandra pushing me one way or me pushing her another.
When Alejandra walks through the front door, I’m already waiting for her. She smiles, and before I can say anything, she leans in and kisses me. I keep my hands on her shoulders but pull back enough to look at her.
“I need to talk to you,” I say. Alejandra studies my face.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “What’s going on?”
I inhale to speak, then let the breath go instead, then I finally manage, “I’ve been feeling ... off all day. I think it’s because you not telling me about New York keeps looming over me, along with everything it means and how quickly decisions have to be made.”
She opens her mouth, probably about to explain, but I raise a hand gently.
“I’m not mad,” I rush to add. “I just ... I need some time to think about us, about what’s next, whether that’s me moving with you or us doing long-distance. To think about whether or not I even want to do long-distance, and I need a little space to do that.” I reach for her hand and press it to my chest. “I love you so much, Ale, and this, us, meanseverything to me. But hearing you talk about New York like it’s a done deal ... it’s confusing me. I need some time to figure out what I want. I don’t want to agree to go with you because I’m afraid of losing you, and I’m worried the more I hear you talk about all the things we could do there, the more I’ll agree just to agree.”
