Chapter 11 #3
She squeezes me hard before letting go. “It’ll be okay,” she says.
I take in the biggest breath I can manage and walk toward Lala. Thankfully, I don’t have to figure it all out right now. Diana and Alex’s dance is next, and I want to get a few pictures of them.
They take the center of the room, and Patty begins guiding them through their choreography.
They are laughing as they move, their steps a little chaotic but somehow perfectly in sync.
Diana twirls, nearly tripping over her own feet, and Alex catches her, both of them dissolving into uncontrollable laughter.
I raise my camera, ready to catch the blur of movement, but I pause and watch them.
There’s something magnetic about the way Diana and Alex dance together, like they’re in their own little world.
They’re everything I hope for someday—four years strong, and somehow still looking at each other like it’s the first time.
I snap a bunch of shots as they practice—Diana mid-laugh, arms looped around Alex’s shoulders, the two of them spinning clumsily. It’s so cute I can’t stop smiling behind the lens.
Before the music ends, they lean in to kiss, and I try to take a picture of them, but my camera beeps, letting me know there’s absolutely no more space.
Damn it . . . Rookie mistake. I should have brought an SD card with more storage, but I didn’t think there would be so many cute moments to capture at a dance rehearsal.
I step inside the house, and the warmth of the heater wraps around me like a blanket—a soft, welcome contrast to the biting cold outside.
I sit on the couch in the living room and start scrolling through the pictures I’ve taken, trying to delete any that are blurry, improperly lit, or past the point of saving in Lightroom or Photoshop.
Not even thirty seconds later, Clara settles next to me, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but far enough that the space between us stretches out like an ocean.
“You and Dee looked good out there,” she says, blowing into her hands and rubbing them.
I steal a glance at her. She’s staring out into the distance, watching Diana.
Clara’s profile is soft in the dim glow, and the way her blue hair catches the light makes my heart flutter.
Clara is so beautiful, so utterly captivating, I don’t think I could ever get bored of staring at her.
Even the redness on her nose from the cold is adorable.
“You think so?” I say with a soft laugh. “I look ridiculous anytime I try to dance.”
“Not at all,” Clara says. “You were very cute.” She smiles as she scoots closer to me. “What are you looking at?” She leans over my shoulder.
I tilt the camera enough so we can both see the pictures as I scroll through them, suddenly nervous.
Clara is the only one who sees my unedited pictures, mainly because she’s a nosy little thing.
But I also trust her more than I trust myself when it comes to my photography.
It’s easy for me to get lost in perfectionism, and she’s always there to calm my overthinking.
But the nerves have nothing to do with these being RAW images and everything to do with the fact that I’ve been scrolling for a good thirty seconds now, and all she’s seen are pictures of her with her dance partner, and a bunch of just her mid-laugh.
“These are so good.” Clara smiles, bumping her shoulder against mine.
I gulp, preparing myself for her to say something about all the pictures of her. But she doesn’t.
“Oh, this one is my favorite,” she says instead, pressing her body tighter against my side as she leans her chin on my shoulder and points to a picture on my camera.
But I don’t even glance at whatever she’s pointing to—because all I can focus on is the heat that sparks through me at her closeness.
It spreads fast, surging lower when Clara nuzzles into my neck.
I don’t know what’s changed—maybe it’s that I’m letting myself feel this pull between us instead of chalking it up to our closeness—but right now, it’s impossible to ignore.
I want Clara. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
It’s a want that burns—hot and insistent—in my chest, in my blood, beneath my skin, like I’ve been waiting for this and didn’t even know it.
“Diana and Alex look so in love in this one; it makes me want to throw up,” Clara says, her warm breath ghosting against my skin. My breath catches as Clara leans further into me, her lips dangerously close to my neck. “Don’t you think?”
I study the picture, and it’s of Diana and Alex in the middle of a dip, their mouths open in laughter.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to ignore the fuzziness at my fingertips that makes my hands shake a little, but it’s impossible as Clara inches even closer than before.
Her cold hands slip beneath my sweater as she wraps her arms around my waist, and the shock of her cool touch against the warmth of my skin is electric. The silk of my shirt feels entirely too thin and simultaneously too thick, making the edges of my brain fuzzy.
I lean into Clara as we both turn to watch Diana and Alex waltz around, utterly happy and in love. An ache stirs in my chest—not jealousy, not really, just a deep longing.
I don’t want what they have instead of them. I simply wish I had something like it, too. Clara’s arms tighten around me, and it only makes the lump in my throat grow as a swarm of butterflies stirs low in my belly. I exhale sharply, trying to push them away, but they linger.
“So, I saw you talking to Olivia. She seems nice,” I say, trying to tame the liquid fire stirring low in my belly. This is my best friend, and it shouldn’t be so hard for me to see her with someone else.
Clara shifts next to me, her body tense. “Yeah, she’s very sweet. She kind of asked me out.”
I turn to her so quickly my neck stiffens.
“What did you say?” I ask, a flicker of panic in my voice.
Clara grins. “Relax, I told her I was here with you.” She pauses, then adds with a mischievous smirk, “But maybe I’ll give her a call once you and I break up.”
All the warmth drains from my body.
“You okay?” she asks, as she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I nod. But my eyes sting. I bury my face in her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible, to let the smell of her soothe whatever fucked-up emotions are coursing through me right now, the way it has countless times before.
But I don’t think anything could help right now, not when I’m starting to realize that everyone in my life was right about what Clara means to me, how they knew even before I knew myself.
Now, with Clara’s arms around my waist, her warmth seeping into my skin, I can’t believe I never saw it.
Suddenly, all my failed dates make sense.
For so long, I blamed Mia and never looked for any other reason.
Now I get it—my dates didn’t fail because she’d broken me too badly for anyone else, or because the women I’d gone out with hadn’t been what I’d wanted.
Most of them actually had been. The problem had been me; I’d kept looking for Clara in them, and when I couldn’t find her, I’d told myself the “vibe” had been off.
But it hadn’t been the vibe. It was about her. It’s always been about her.
I had been so focused on finding someone who loved me the way Clara loved me that I’d never stopped to think that what I really wanted was for Clara to love me. To love me in all the ways she already did, but not as her best friend, even though it’s my favorite thing to be.
I don’t know how I missed it for so long. Because now it’s so clear and I feel so silly.
I’m not just comforted by Clara. I’m not just grateful for her. I have feelings for her, and somehow, it’s the clearest, most terrifying thing I’ve ever known.