Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLARA
Seeing all of Alejandra’s things next to mine makes me smile.
My favorite cologne sits cozied up to her perfume, and our toothbrushes now share a cup.
I’m trying not to get carried away here, because in a day, all her things will go back to her room, but right now, I’m letting myself have this.
This brief glimpse of what a life as Alejandra’s partner could look like.
When we finish putting all our things away, the room feels alive, finally complete.
There are little touches of her scattered in every corner: a candle burning on the dresser, her jewelry dish by the bed, a book resting on her nightstand.
Her favorite blanket is at the end of the bed, and the room smells a little like her now.
This space is ours now, and I couldn’t love it more.
A low knock at the door startles us both. I’ve been so lost in organizing and admiring how cute “our” room turned out that I completely forgot Lala was here.
“Yeah?” Alejandra calls out as she hangs up the very last shirt from the pile that was on my bed.
“I should start getting dinner ready soon. Can you take me to the Mexican store so I can pick up what I need, mija?”
“Sure thing!” Alejandra yells back. “Coming?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “I need to shower.”
Alejandra grabs her bag, and as she leans in to kiss me goodbye, I lean in a little too far, and my lips accidentally brush the corner of her mouth. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, freezing me in place, and my heart starts pounding so hard it echoes in my ears.
Alejandra goes still. Her eyes widen slightly. Her lips part, not quite a gasp, but close. Then she shakes her head, recovers, and a playful spark flickers back into her eyes.
I blink a few times, trying to act casual.
“Drive safe,” I say, my voice a little too light. “But if you don’t bring me back a Dr Pepper, I swear I’ll lock you out,” I tease, forcing a grin.
She scoffs playfully. “Whatever.” Her eyes linger on my lips a beat too long before turning away.
When the front door clicks shut behind her, I head to the bathroom, trying to shake off whatever that moment was.
Once I’m inside, I close the door and lean back against it, pressing my palms flat against the wood.
I inhale deeply, then exhale, trying to steady the flutter of nerves in my chest. I turn the handle and step in, letting the warm water cascade over my skin.
The steam fills my lungs as I inhale deeply, eyes closed, and the tension in my shoulders starts to melt away as the warmth wraps around me, soothing the knots that have tightened throughout the day.
I let my hands rest on the cool tiles, trying to ground myself.
But my mind won’t let it go.
That almost-kiss plays on repeat. The way my lips brushed the corner of hers, barely—but enough to feel it.
Enough to spark a deep want in me. Her breath had hitched.
I know it had, or am I making this up? Fuck, I can’t even trust my brain right now.
It didn’t. Alejandra doesn’t have these complicated feelings that I do.
I stand in the shower for far too long, letting the water run down my body until it turns slightly too cold and I need to step out.
As I walk past the bedroom door that’s slightly ajar, I hear Lala say something I don’t quite catch. I pause, towel-drying my hair when I catch the soft murmur of Alejandra’s voice. I wasn’t planning on eavesdropping, but something about her tone makes me linger.
“Does she make you happy?” Lala asks, her voice gentle.
Alejandra chuckles. “Yeah, she does.”
My heart does a silly little flip.
Lala hums approvingly. “I always knew you’d find your way to each other. I’m happy to see you both so happy, mamita.”
“What made you think Clara and I would ever be more than friends?” Alejandra asks, her voice soft.
“Mmm . . . I can’t say there was just one moment when it all made sense to me.
But when you both told me you liked girls, my heart just felt it.
And the thought of you two together made sense.
The more I watched your friendship grow, and how close you were, how much you cared for each other, the more it all seemed .
. . right.” I swear I hear a smile in her voice.
Alejandra hums, probably wrapping her head around it all.
“The best relationships come from friendships. Did you know your grandfather was my childhood best friend, too?” Lala asks.
Alejandra laughs softly, “Yeah, I did.”
“I’m so glad you two decided to date. I was starting to worry it wouldn’t happen.”
Alejandra’s quiet for a beat, and then, softer than before, she says, “Yeah . . . me too.”
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the doorframe for a second before finally stepping away with my heart clenched into a fist. Because even if everything Lala is saying is true, Alejandra and I are lying, and the weight of that is heavy on my chest.
I sit at the edge of the bed, trying to rein in my thoughts, but it’s impossible not to dissect every word I just heard. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but the next thing I know, there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by Lala’s sweet face emerging from beyond it.
“I made dinner. Come eat,” Lala says.
“I’ll be right out,” I reply, hoping to get one more minute to collect myself before pretending I didn’t hear their conversation.
To pretend it isn’t tearing me apart that Alejandra and I aren’t giving this a real shot, even though I know I never would have.
Not even if she’d asked. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m scared.
Scared that if I let myself have this—have her—and it all falls apart, I’ll lose too much.
Maybe that’s the most cowardly kind of love there is, but I’m okay with that.
When I’ve gotten a semblance of composure back, I head to the kitchen.
Alejandra lights up the second she sees me, and it makes my chest tighten. “How was your shower?” she asks, stepping closer and tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
“Fine,” I say, not looking at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with so much concern, it hurts. How does she know me so well?
“Nothing.” I do my best to put on a genuine smile, but Alejandra narrows her eyes at me slightly. She’s not buying it, but thankfully doesn’t push it.
We make our plates and sit at the dining room table. It’s not where Alejandra and I usually have dinner—we’re more of the eat-on-the-couch type—but the last time we tried that when Lala was over, she scolded us for a good thirty minutes about “how that’s not where one eats.”
When Lala joins us at the table, we dig in. Alejandra and I live on takeout and frozen meals, so having a homemade meal is always welcome.
Valeria has been dropping off food here once a week for years now, worried that Alejandra and I aren’t eating properly, and I can’t say we are. We order burgers and fries at least three times a week.
“This is delicious,” Alejandra says after her first bite.
Lala smiles, her eyes full of grandmotherly love. “I’m glad you like it.”
No one says anything else after that, and we eat in comfortable silence. We are halfway through our meal when Lala breaks it.
“Well now, you two,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single detail. I’ve been waiting for this day for ages, you know. How did it all begin?”
Fuck.
Alejandra and I still haven’t talked about what we’re going to say. We’d meant to, but we’d both gotten so caught up in work that it had slipped our minds.
Alejandra and I exchange a panicked look, and I can tell we’re having the same thought: We’re fucked. My chest knots, and my vision blurs. I’m not good at lying on the spot, and anxiety is already taking over.
Alejandra’s hand finds mine under the table, and she squeezes a little too tightly.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” Lala says. “How long have you been together?”
I clear my throat, trying to steady myself, offering the best smile I can muster. “Well, uh . . .” I start, then trail off.
“A few weeks,” Alejandra says as I blurt out, “A few months.”
My eyes go wide. Yeah, we are so fucked.
Lala’s eyes narrow.
“What we mean is officially a few weeks, but we’ve been working it out in secret for a few months,” Alejandra says, trying to save the lie.
Lala hums. “And how did you figure this out?” she asks, one eyebrow arched. “What made you decide to try?” Her tone is full of curiosity, but there’s also a hint of doubt. She’s not buying it.
Alejandra and I stare at each other, both probably scared to say something that might contradict the other, so the silence grows awkward, and Lala’s gaze intensifies.
“Oh, you don’t want to hear about that,” Alejandra laughs sheepishly.
“No, I would love to.” Lala smiles, her eyes still narrowed.
Alejandra gulps, and I watch her Adam’s apple bob in her throat.
“Well,” she says, looking at me and holding my gaze. “I got back from a terrible date a few months ago, and Clara said something really sweet, and that’s when I realized I wanted to be with someone like her instead.”
“What did she say?” Lala asks, all traces of doubt gone. Now there’s a twinkle in her eyes. If there’s one thing we know about Lala, it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic—but she likes to correct us and say she’s a hopeful romantic. So Alejandra and I need to lean into that hard to sell this.
I take Alejandra’s hand, set it on the table where Lala can see, and start tracing small circles on her skin with my thumb.
I watch her closely, making it appear as if I’m hanging on her every word.
Then my heart starts racing and I realize I am.
I want to know what she’s going to say, maybe even let myself believe that when I held her a few months ago, she felt the same pull I did, that she was falling for me the way I’ve been falling for her.