Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
T ori never imagined she’d be sitting in the back of Mia’s old station wagon, hatch open, watching the sun set behind the park’s enormous banyan trees. They’d planned to go get ice cream, but after loading the coolers and other stuff in the back, they’d ended up sitting down and delighting in the breeze and talking.
“So why the hell are you single?” Mia asked, one leg tucked under herself and the other dangling over the back of the Volvo. She swung it like a metronome. Slow, as if to remind Tori how unreasonably fast her heart beat around her.
Tori leaned back against the car’s frame, legs crossed while she looked at Mia. Despite having stayed in the shade most of the day, Mia’s nose and cheeks were bright pink. Her shoulders and collarbones, exposed by her tank top, were just as red.
Tori blinked, belatedly registering the question. “What?”
Hazel eyes—green like fresh-cut grass from the sun—brightened a moment before Mia smiled. Openly amused by having distracted Tori with nothing but her presence, Mia scooted closer.
And somehow, as if they’d done it a hundred times before, Tori shifted to make room. She uncrossed her legs, and Mia nestled into the space between them, back pressed to Tori’s chest. Reaching back, she took Tori’s arms and wrapped them around her waist, then rested her head against Tori’s shoulder.
Chest expanding to breaking, Tori closed her eyes and wished she could stop time. There was no price she wouldn’t pay to stay there for all eternity. To live with her nose nestled in Mia’s messy hair and the warm weight of her body against hers, still buzzing from the aftertaste of her last kiss and drunk from the anticipation of another.
“Are you going to tell me or what?” Mia’s voice was soft and distant like she might drift off to sleep in Tori’s arms.
“There’s not much to tell,” Tori admitted, fingertips lightly skimming the back of her hand.
“Well, start at the beginning,” she replied, nestling into Tori like she wanted to bury herself in her skin. To dig her way past her sternum and curl inside her chest.
“The beginning?” Tori closed her eyes, deep breath full of Mia’s shampoo. She debated making it sound a little less pathetic than it was, but she was tired and dosed with too much euphoria for deceit. “I was down so bad for you when I got to college,” she admitted.
Mia tensed, but Tori didn’t stop gently tracing meaningless shapes over her hand and along her forearm.
“My dorm-mate forced me to join this gay-straight alliance thing,” Tori continued, relieved when Mia relaxed again. “And I met a girl there.”
“Did you date?” Mia prompted like she feared that’s all Tori would divulge.
Tori nodded. “For a few months.”
“What did she look like?”
Tori chuckled. “Why do you need a mental picture?”
“I have a very vivid imagination, Victoria,” she replied with a smile curling around the edges of her words. “You def don’t want it to feed itself.”
“I barely remember,” Tori admitted, without explaining that she’d spent a long time blocking out that first year. Every memory was tainted with how badly she’d missed Mia, and all the doubt that she’d chosen the wrong remedy. “She was tall, sweet, only wore ripped jeans.”
“What a way to remember somebody.” Mia laughed and pulled Tori’s arms tighter around her body. “Did you sleep with her?”
Tori wasn’t sure how to answer the question, so she deflected. “Have you always been this nosy?”
“Literally my entire life,” Mia shot back before she found Tori’s hand resting on her hip and laced their fingers together. “Don’t act brand-new.”
“Yeah,” Tori replied.
By the way Mia shifted against her chest, Tori knew she was holding back from asking something. Probably many somethings. But Tori pressed on. She didn’t want to talk about an awkward first time. Especially not when she was still buzzing from every first with Mia.
“So after her, I dated a guy from my bio class?—”
“Slept with him?”
“What are you? Keeping a running count?”
Mia squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb in a soothing motion. “I just want to know everything I missed.”
Tori took another deep breath. “Yep.”
“And you weren’t into it?” Mia asked gently, like it was a snowflake on the iceberg of her questions.
“I mean… It wasn’t awful? I’d gotten kinda drunk on purpose so I wouldn’t back out?—”
“Did he pressure you?” Mia’s spine went rigid.
“No, no. Not at all. He was very sweet.” Tori held her tight to show her it was okay. “All the pressure was self-applied. I knew I was gay, but I guess there was this part of me that just wanted to see what it was like.” She tried to remember details, but there was nothing remarkable about the experience.
“And then?”
“I don’t know.” Tori fidgeted with the wristband on Mia’s watch. “Nothing dramatic or traumatic or earth-shattering happened. I’ve dated on and off since, but never been in some huge relationship. Never moved in with anyone. Never adopted a cat that led to a custody battle.” She chuckled. “Larissa says I’m picky, but I think I just… I don’t know… I think I’m just not willing to settle.” Ready to share the time under the microscope, Tori switched topics before Mia could ask anything else. “So, what happened with med school?”
“What happened with basketball?” Mia shot back like their childhood dreams had been at all equivalent.
“I’m 5’7 and mediocre, Mia.” Tori laughed.
“But you love it so much. You should see your sweaty little face when you’re playing. It’s adorable.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I should have picked up the phone when the Sparks called.”
“Shut up.” She chuckled. “There aren’t only two extremes, you know? It’s not just playing professionally or not at all. You could coach kids, or play in one of those adult leagues where everyone is in knee braces and compression sleeves.”
“Stop deflecting.” Tori kissed Mia’s temple, still in awe that she could do that whenever she wanted. “Spill.”
“I just,” she shrugged, “didn’t get in,” she replied like every single syllable was excruciating.
“How many schools did you apply to?” Tori couldn’t fathom Mia not getting something she wanted, and she’d wanted to be a doctor more than anything.
“Enough.”
“How many times did you try? Were admissions just once a year?” Tori pressed.
Mia was quiet for so long, Tori regretted having broached the topic. After Mia had planned such a thoughtful date, she didn’t want to ruin the end.
“After opening thirty rejection letters, it’s pretty hard to sign up for that torment twice,” she said in a voice so soft it didn’t sound like hers.
Tori clutched Mia close, wishing she could suffocate the sadness weighing down her words. “We’re not what we do.” She kissed the top of her ear. “Our lives aren’t measured by what we accomplish.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not a fail?—”
“Stop.” Tori buried her face in Mia’s neck. She kissed her until Mia relaxed. “You’re so far from a failure,” she whispered against the shell of her ear.
Tori stopped short of telling her she’d breathed life back into her stagnant existence. That she’d inspired her to be brave and take risks and try. That she’d shown her it wasn’t too late for anything. Mia could seize the world by the throat if she wanted, and Tori would be behind her every step of the way. Next to her. Pulling her along. Whatever she needed.
But as pushy as Mia was, she hated being pressured. They’d talk about med school again when Mia was ready.
It was fully dark and neither of them had made any effort to move when Mia suddenly said, “You really should play basketball more often. Can’t you start a semi-athletic lesbian league?”
Tori smiled, relieved that the playful tone was back in Mia’s voice. “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “But I don’t know. Life gets so busy.” She went back to playing with the metal bracket on Mia’s watch. “Plus, you know how superstitious I am. Every game I ever won, you were sitting in the bleachers.”
She was about to say that Mia was leaving in a month—that they hadn’t talked about what would happen next—when Mia turned her head and looked at her.
“Did you just call me your good luck charm?” Mia’s eyes were glistening and her smile blinding. “Are you trying to make me swoon in this parking lot right now?”
She reached back, fingers at the base of Tori’s damp neck, and pulled her in. When she kissed her, it was slow and deep and shattering—like they’d kissed a thousand times in a thousand versions of their lives and were finally getting it right. Tori felt it like a karmic blessing.
Mia’s lips were soft and warm, tasting like salt and sun. Tori let herself be kissed like she was something precious. Something to be cherished. Something rare. And when Mia’s fingers curled tighter at the back of her neck and she moaned, Tori knew she’d live another thousand lives just to taste her again.
“Where did you come from?” Mia muttered against her lips. “And what could I have ever done to deserve you?”
Tori didn’t have the words to tell her that she’d been there all along. That Mia didn’t have to do anything to earn love. That she deserved it for merely existing.
And then Mia was kissing her again, her tongue more insistent. Her teeth sharp where they tugged on Tori’s bottom lip.
“Take me home,” Mia rasped.