Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
ALIX
Alix wanted to take Grace somewhere local, somewhere that felt like her. Not touristy, not curated. So: The Hollow. The queer vegan-food-joint-slash-dive-bar where Alix and her friends always ended up after long shifts.
Friday night in Silver Lake hummed like a slightly out of tune guitar.
Music spilled from open doors, a pit bull on a bejeweled leash strutted past in a striped sweater, and a breeze carried hints of citrus and weed.
Neon signs glowed against stucco storefronts, the street alive with people who looked like they’d stepped out of an Urban Outfitters advertisement and never looked back.
Grace, ever polished, fit in and didn’t.
Her lipstick gleamed, her light jacket looked immaculately tailored, her heels clicked, and Alix felt that familiar, stupid rush of pride walking beside her.
Grace looked like she belonged anywhere, and maybe that included here.
The sight of her under the streetlights made Alix’s chest go tight in the best way, like she’d been waiting to show Grace this life and didn’t know until now just how much it mattered.
Grace was here. Here, with her. She tugged her light coat a little tighter, trying to hide her stupid grin in the collar.
The Hollow smelled like beer, basil, and coconut milk cheese. The air hummed with chatter and low laughter, the kind of place where you could overhear a breakup and a band booking in the same five minutes.
Lola spotted her first — pink hair tonight, tattoos visible under a sleeveless band tee, already working toward the bottom of a beer bottle. “Kind of you to pause your sexcapades long enough to join us.”
“Details would only make you jealous,” Alix said, sliding into the booth they always grabbed. She gestured toward Grace. “This is Grace.”
“The Miami lawyer,” Lola said, eyes twinkling. “We’ve heard stories.”
Oscar, perched beside Lola with an Aperol spritz, raised a brow. “So this is the woman who got our girl to go to Florida unironically.”
Grace grinned, easy and self-possessed. “Proud to be a blue dot influencer.”
Lola barked a laugh and waved for the bartender. “First round’s on me. You’re gonna fit in fine.”
Alix exhaled, tension draining. Her world, her friends, Grace’s hand brushing hers under the table.
It all felt like two halves of her life finally overlapping.
She could feel the weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by something warmer, quieter.
Grace leaned closer to whisper something that made Alix’s laugh bubble out before she could stop it.
They ordered a vegan pizza loaded with veggies and a round of margaritas that hit faster than expected.
Conversation flowed easily. Grace asked Oscar about his art show. Lola roasted Alix for ghosting the salon group chat.
“She goes home for one week and forgets she has friends,” Lola said.
“To be fair,” Grace said, leaning against Alix’s shoulder, “she was very busy losing gingerbread competitions.”
“You lost a gingerbread competition?” Oscar gasped.
“Rigged. My father’s corrupt,” Alix groaned.
The table dissolved into laughter as Grace told stories of the gingerbread, the cowboy boots that Alix learned she’d packed for LA, her twin cousins straight out of The Shining.
Alix could feel Grace shaking against her side, her laugh vibrating through her ribs.
A buzzy heat bloomed under her skin, but it wasn’t from the tequila.
It was Grace, always Grace, looking up at her through her dark lashes, the edge of her mouth curving like she knew exactly what she was doing.
By the second round, Grace’s posture and laugh were looser.
Alix couldn’t stop watching how her earrings caught the light, how her eyes lit up when she listened.
Every time Grace smiled, something in Alix’s stomach flipped over.
She couldn’t stop touching her, either, brushing knees, playing with her hair, kissing her shoulder.
The Hollow filled fast, noise rising around them. Grace leaned closer to hear, the air between them charged. Alix slid an arm around her waist, tugging her into her lap without thinking.
“Sorry, it’s just getting so packed in here,” Alix said, deadpan, even though there was plenty of room.
Grace’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Uh-huh.”
Lola smirked from across the table. “This is a family establishment. Get a room.”
Alix raised her middle finger. “Jealousy’s not your color, Lo.”
Grace tilted her head, her mouth brushing Alix’s ear as she whispered, “You’re different here.”
“How so?” Alix asked, voice a little rough.
“Lighter,” Grace said simply.
That one word hit somewhere deep. Alix didn’t know how to answer, so she pressed a kiss to Grace’s temple. Grace’s hair smelled like her dark floral perfume and Alix breathed her in, wanting to stay in that moment forever.
Later, tipsy and giggling, they spilled into the cool night. The city hummed around them — traffic lights blinking red on Sunset, laughter echoing from a rooftop bar, the faint buzz of someone playing guitar on a porch.
Alix suggested Grace remove her heels for a Bridal Carry 2.0, but Grace insisted she would never be a pata sucia, whatever that meant.
They walked past palm trees and street murals, the air a mixture of orange blossom and exhaust. Grace stopped suddenly, pointing at a shop with a flickering pink neon sign that read: I LEFT MY HEART IN YOUR DMs.
“That’s definitely on-brand for us,” Alix said. “Should we take a selfie?”
“I thought so too.” Grace angled her phone for what could only be categorized as the worst selfie of all time. Somehow, she managed to cut off half of her own face and the neon sign, and only took photos when Alix’s eyes were closed.
Alix finally took pity on her, stealing her phone citing long-arm-tall-person privilege, and took a more flattering photo, then another of her sneak-attack kissing Grace. Grace giggled and they continued walking toward home. “You know, I still have a question, Gator.”
“Oh?”
“Why in the world was your username GoGators? You don’t strike me as a sports fan.”
Grace smirked. “HotBabe69 was sadly taken.”
Alix barked out a laugh that startled a nearby couple.
She tugged Grace closer and kissed her, once, twice, again, unable to stop herself.
Her lips tasted faintly of lime and salt.
When Grace laughed against her mouth, Alix kissed the sound away, chasing it like a dare.
“I am changing your contact in my phone immediately,” she murmured against her cheek.
After a few blocks they were back at Phyllis and Alix’s bungalow, the porch light flickering like a dying star. Grace spotted the longboard leaned against the railing.
“Teach me,” Grace demanded in a bratty tone that had Alix playfully smacking her ass.
Alix shook her head. “Absolutely not. You have heels on. And you’re not sober.”
Grace finally kicked off her heels, hair falling around her shoulders. “You’re not sober.”
“I am not,” Alix agreed, grinning.
“C’mon. I was great at rollerblading in the nineties.”
“You were probably eight.”
“Exactly. Peak athleticism.”
Alix sighed but handed it over. “Okay, so, you’re going to step on and evenly distribute your weight between your feet.” Grace stepped on with all the grace of a baby deer.
“Bend your knees,” Alix instructed, holding Grace’s hands to steady her.
Grace bent too far. The board shot out, and they both went down in a heap on the lawn.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Alix scrambled up, heart racing, hands immediately skimming Grace’s arms, her hair, her cheek. Her pulse was everywhere at once.
Grace was laughing too hard to answer. “You make that look easier than it is.”
“I have coordination. You have litigation. We all have our strengths, Gator.”
Grace wiped away tears of laughter, cheeks flushed. “You should’ve warned me I’d be falling for you again.”
Alix groaned, half from pain, half from the ache of wanting her.
“That was so cheesy, and somehow so cute.” She brushed a few leaves from Grace’s shoulder, her fingers trailing down her arm, lingering longer than necessary.
Grace looked up at her with a giddy smile.
Alix couldn’t help it, she leaned down and kissed her again, slow and sweet, her hands cradling the back of Grace’s neck.
They stayed in the cool grass, laughter fading into quiet.
Somewhere, a siren wailed and a dog howled in solidarity.
Grace’s hand found Alix’s, fingers tangling.
The skin of her palm was warm, the weight of it grounding.
Alix’s thumb traced lazy circles over Grace’s knuckles, her heart still unsteady.
When they finally dragged themselves inside, Alix grabbed a damp paper towel, crouching to dab the scrape on Grace’s elbow.
“You’re bleeding,” Alix pointed out.
“You’re very dramatic,” Grace teased, smiling. “It’s barely a scratch.”
“I’m just thorough.”
“You mean bossy,” Grace corrected. “And hot.”
Alix laughed quietly, that warm, dizzy kind of laughter that lived in her throat.
She couldn’t stop touching Grace. The curve of her shoulder, the slope of her jaw, the fall of her hair.
She pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to her temple, then one to her lips, unable to get enough.
Grace’s skin was warm beneath her mouth, smelling like sun and salt and tequila.
The kind of scent that branded memory into skin.
They were still laughing when they collapsed into bed in a tangle of limbs, languorous kisses, and sleepy smiles. Grace curled into her side, Alix’s fingers tracing slow, wandering paths over her back. Every time Grace sighed, Alix kissed her again, like she could memorize her by touch alone.
“I never thought I’d say this with you,” Grace mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion, “but I think I might be a little too drunk and tired for sex.”
Alix kissed her forehead, then her hairline, then the corner of her mouth. “Me too. Gross. We’re getting so domestic.”
Grace huffed a laugh.
Outside, the city murmured as the night slipped in through the window — cars, sirens, the distant laughter of a neighbor. Grace’s breath slowed against her chest.
“You make everything feel easy,” Grace murmured, half-asleep.
“It is easy with you,” Alix whispered before she could stop herself.
Grace’s fingers tightened in her shirt. “Good.”
Alix lay awake a little longer, tracing slow circles on Grace’s bare arm, her lips brushing the top of her head. Grace’s heartbeat thudded steady against her ribs, calm and certain, the kind of rhythm Alix could almost believe in.
She could still taste her on her lips. The air was warm, heavy with the faint smell of skin and snow and something new.
For a minute, the world felt still. Too still. The kind of quiet that made her chest tighten, like happiness was a trick she might fall for.
Grace shifted closer in her sleep, a hushed sound caught in her throat, and Alix’s hand stilled. She knew this part — the part where she got scared. The part where good things slipped through her fingers because she was too busy waiting to ruin them.
She closed her eyes and tried to breathe past it, memorizing the weight of Grace against her, just in case.