Chapter 9 Apartment Steps #2
“I’m going to ask,” he said.
Sophia’s heart kicked.
“All right.”
“And if the answer is no, that’s fine.”
She nodded. Her throat felt tight. He took one short step closer. Still not close enough to touch.
“Can I kiss you?”
No almost, no interruption, no cold air, and no Gia.
Just the question. Sophia looked at his mouth.
Then his eyes. She thought of the walk-in cooler, of saying yes because she wanted to be brave and maybe get it over with.
This was different. She didn’t want to get this over with. She wanted to remember it.
“Yes,” she said.
Vinny exhaled. Then he smiled, short and a little helpless.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
Sophia smiled back.
“I’m sure.”
He moved slowly enough that she could change her mind.
She didn’t. His hand lifted, paused near her cheek like a question, then settled lightly against the side of her face when she leaned into it.
His palm was warm. Sophia forgot the street.
Vinny leaned down. She rose a little onto her toes without meaning to.
Their mouths touched. Her first thought was soft, then warm, then Vinny.
It wasn’t like she expected, because she hadn’t known what to expect.
There was no sudden knowledge, no magic answer, no perfect movie moment where she instantly understood how kissing worked.
There was his mouth gentle on hers. There was her hand lifting before she had given it permission and touching the front of his jacket.
There was the tiny sound he made when she did that, calm and surprised, and the way he went even stiller, like he was trying very hard not to scare her.
The kiss lasted only a few seconds, maybe.
Sophia had lost the ability to count. Vinny pulled back first, but only a little.
His hand stayed near her cheek, light enough that she could move away.
She didn’t. Her eyes opened. His were already open, watching her like her answer mattered more now than before.
“All right?” he asked, rougher than usual.
Sophia nodded. Words weren’t available. Vinny’s mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious.
“Yeah?”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
He let out a silent breath and dropped his hand slowly. The place his palm had touched felt warm. Sophia stood there, fingers still curled in his jacket, and realized she hadn’t let go. She looked down.
“Oh.”
Vinny followed her gaze. His smile changed. Not teasing. Happy, visibly so.
“You’re fine,” he said.
Sophia released his jacket at once. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that.”
Her face burned.
“All right.”
He wanted to kiss her again. She could see it. She wanted that too. That was alarming. Very. Maybe obvious, because Vinny took half a step back. Not far, enough.
“I should say goodnight before I get greedy,” he said.
Sophia’s stomach flipped at the word. Greedy. He seemed to regret it immediately.
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” she said, and then her face got even hotter because she did know.
His eyes warmed.
“All right.”
They stood there for another second. Still bad at endings. Sophia smiled first.
“You still have the basket.”
He looked down. “Right. Important.”
“You need that.”
“I do. Antonia would ask questions if I returned without it.”
“Would she?”
“No. Gia would. Antonia would just know.”
Sophia laughed. The joke gave her something normal to hold on to. A little. Vinny picked up the basket.
“I’ll text you when I get home,” he said. “If that’s fine.”
“Yes.”
“And you can text me if…” He paused. “If you want.”
“I will.”
He nodded.
Then, after a second, “Goodnight, Sophia.”
Her full name. Careful again.
“Goodnight, Vinny.”
He walked backward one step. Then another.
“That’s unsafe,” she said.
He stopped. “Right.”
She smiled. He smiled too, turned around properly, and headed down the sidewalk.
Sophia stayed at the bottom of the steps, watching until he reached the corner.
He looked back once. She lifted a hand. He lifted his.
Then he turned and disappeared around the corner.
Sophia stood there for three more seconds. Maybe ten. Then her phone buzzed again.
Victoria: ANSWER ME OR I AM CALLING YOUR MOTHER.
Sophia stared at the screen.
Then typed:
Sophia: Alive.
Victoria: That isn’t detail.
Sophia didn’t answer. She climbed the steps slowly, opened the building door, and walked upstairs with her hand against the railing because her legs felt strange.
Not weak. Just not fully trustworthy. Inside the apartment, Constance was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea and an open book she was absolutely not reading.
Sophia closed the door. Her mother looked up.
Sophia tried to make her face normal. Based on Constance’s expression, she failed before she even took off her shoes.
“Oh,” Constance said.
Sophia froze. “What?”
“Oh.”
“Please don’t say oh like that.”
Constance closed the book. “I am saying it softly.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“You walked in looking like that.”
“I always have a face.”
“Not that face.”
Sophia hung her bag on the chair. “I am going to my room.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I am twenty.”
“You walked in with that face.”
Sophia covered her face with both hands. “Mom.”
Constance stood, but she didn’t rush over. She stayed near the table, giving Sophia space even though every part of her clearly wanted answers. It was new. Or maybe Sophia only noticed it now because she had spent the whole afternoon with a boy who kept doing the same thing.
Constance softened. “Did you have fun?”
Sophia lowered her hands. Her cheeks hurt.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
That was all. For exactly two seconds.
Then Constance said, “Did he kiss you?”
Sophia made a sound that wasn’t a word.
Constance’s eyes widened. “He did.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You made a sound.”
“That tells you nothing.”
“It tells me enough.”
Sophia pulled out a chair and sat because standing took too much coordination. Constance sat across from her. Softly. Waiting. Sophia looked down at her hands. Her fingers still remembered Vinny’s jacket.
“Yes,” she said.
Constance’s face went soft.
“Was he respectful?”
Sophia nodded immediately. “Yes.”
“Did he ask?”
“Yes.”
“Did you want him to?”
Sophia looked up. This was the important question again. Her mother always found it.
“Yes,” Sophia said.
Constance breathed out slowly.
“Good.”
Sophia smiled at the table.
“It was my first kiss,” she said, even though her mother knew that. Or probably knew that. Or suspected enough that the sentence didn’t surprise her.
Constance’s eyes shone. She blinked fast and looked at her tea.
“Oh no,” Sophia said. “Don’t cry.”
“I am not crying.”
“You are.”
“I am having feelings softly.”
Sophia laughed.
Constance wiped under one eye and pointed at her. “Don’t judge me. I raised you. I am allowed.”
“I know.”
Her mother reached across the table, palm up. Sophia hesitated only a second before placing her hand in it. Constance squeezed.
“Was it useful?” she asked.
“Mom.”
“I need to know it felt safe.”
Sophia looked down, smiling so hard it embarrassed her.
“It did.”
Constance squeezed her hand again. “Decent.”
“And it worked.”
Her mother’s mouth softened. “Better.”
“And scary.”
“Also normal.”
“And I think I wanted him to kiss me again.”
Constance’s eyebrows lifted.
Sophia gasped. “I can’t believe I said that to you.”
“I can. You are overwhelmed.”
“I am never speaking again.”
“That would be difficult for your teaching career.”
Sophia laughed and groaned at the same time.
Constance let go of her hand and picked up her tea. “I like that he asked.”
“Me too.”
“I like that you said yes because you wanted to.”
Sophia looked at her.
“Me too,” she said.
Her phone buzzed on the table. Victoria again.
Victoria: I KNOW YOU ARE HOME. YOUR LOCATION STOPPED MOVING.
Sophia showed her mother.
Constance nodded. “She is committed.”
“She is terrifying.”
“Both.”
Sophia typed:
Sophia: I’m home.
Victoria: DETAILS.
Sophia hesitated.
Then typed:
Sophia: He kissed me.
The reply came so fast Sophia wasn’t sure Victoria had breathed.
Victoria: WAS IT GOOD?
Sophia looked at her mother. Constance looked shamelessly interested. Sophia turned the phone away and typed:
Sophia: Yes.
Victoria: DID HE ASK?
Sophia smiled.
Sophia: Yes.
Victoria: FINE. I AM LESS MAD.
Then another.
Victoria: NOT HAPPY. LESS MAD.
Sophia laughed.
Constance smiled over her mug. “That girl loves you.”
“I know.”
Sophia’s phone buzzed again. This time, Vinny.
Vinny: Home.
She stared at the word. One word. Simple. Exactly what he said he would send. Then another message appeared.
Vinny: Thank you for today.
Her chest warmed. She typed slowly.
Sophia: Thank you for the picnic.
She paused.
Then added:
Sophia: And for asking.
His reply came after a few seconds.
Vinny: I’d like to ask again sometime.
Sophia’s breath caught.
Constance leaned forward. “Is that him?”
Sophia turned the phone facedown. “Maybe.”
“That means yes.”
Sophia tried to glare. Failed. She picked up the phone again.
Sophia: I’d like that.
Vinny: Goodnight, teach.
Sophia smiled, not Soph. Not tonight. Teach felt safe, sweet, and still his.
Sophia: Goodnight.
She set the phone down and leaned back in the chair. Constance watched her with a soft expression that made Sophia feel six and twenty at the same time.
“What?” Sophia asked.
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t nothing.”
“No,” Constance said. “It is me watching you be happy.”
Sophia looked away. The kitchen was soft.
The glitter numbers from her birthday had finally disappeared from the table.
Her green notebook sat near her bag. Her school planner was open by the counter, Monday already waiting for her with reading assignments and work hours and ordinary responsibilities.
Tomorrow, she would still have class. She would still have work.
Vinny would still be Vinny. She would still be Sophia.
Nothing had officially changed. Except his mouth had touched hers.
Except she had said yes and meant it. Except when she thought about seeing him again, her first feeling wasn’t panic.
It was want. Narrow and new and bright enough to scare her. Sophia stood and picked up her bag.
“I’m going to bed.”
Constance smiled. “Goodnight, my love.”
“Goodnight.”
At her bedroom door, Sophia paused.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for not making it too big.”
Constance’s expression softened.
“I am learning,” she said.
Sophia smiled. Then she went into her room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of her bed.
She touched her lips once. Just once. Then she laughed at herself, because apparently she was that girl now.
Maybe it was all right. For tonight, it was all right.
She took out her green notebook, opened to a clean page, and wrote the date at the top.
Then she stopped. She didn’t write about attachment.
Or predictable adults. Or anything from class.
She wrote:
First kiss.
After a second, she added:
I wanted it.
Then she closed the notebook before she could overthink it. Outside her window, the city moved on. Inside her room, Sophia sat with her shoes still on, smiling at nothing like the whole world felt embarrassing and brighter than it had that morning.