Last First Date (Last First #3)

Prologue

VALERIA

Two years ago

Being here should feel nostalgic, comforting, and easy, but it doesn’t.

Valeria and her four best friends have spent the past weekend in a secluded cabin, checking off a long-forgotten item from a bucket list they made as teenagers. However, since they arrived yesterday, she and Brooke—her girlfriend of more than four years—have been bickering nonstop.

By the time evening on their last day rolls around, Valeria isn’t looking forward to sitting by the bonfire and hanging out with her friends; instead, she’s counting down the hours until she can fall asleep, wake up, and leave—hoping she and Brooke can drive home and pretend this entire weekend never happened.

Which sucks, because Valeria had been looking forward to this weekend with the girls.

It’s been years since the five of them have been together like this.

The moment the movie they’ve been watching ends, Isabella rises from the couch and stretches, her unruly curly hair springing in every direction as she says, “I’m going to bed. The hot springs wore me out.”

From the kitchen, Alejandra calls, “Already?” with the faintest edge of disappointment in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” Isabella replies, adding a yawn so dramatically fake that Valeria can’t help narrowing her eyes at her.

“Me too,” Lily says quickly, nervously tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, her voice far too bright and eager for someone claiming to be tired.

Valeria shifts her gaze to Alejandra and Clara, widening her eyes in a silent plea to bookmark this moment for them to discuss later.

Lately, Isabella and Lily have been acting strangely around each other. Not in a bad way, but in a way Valeria can’t quite decode. They lean in a little closer than before, exchanging smiles over things only they understand, and look at each other as if the rest of them aren’t there.

It reminds Valeria of when Isabella and Lily were close, before the mysterious argument that has hung over them for the last decade and, in turn, cast its shadow across the whole group.

The five of them had been inseparable since middle school, but sometime during their senior year of high school, Lily and Isabella had a falling out, and their once-inseparable group split a little.

Lily and Isabella each stayed close to the rest of the group but stopped talking to each other entirely, despite the rest of them trying to figure out what had happened.

While Valeria is trying to piece together what could be going on between them, Alejandra is completely failing at playing it nonchalant, her eyes as wide as her smile, leaving all three struggling to contain their laughter.

Valeria presses her lips together, careful to hide her excitement from Brooke, who looks profoundly uninterested—practically carved from boredom.

Valeria forces herself to rein in her curiosity, not wanting to set off another argument with her girlfriend.

Brooke’s ex cheated on her with her best friend.

As if being betrayed hadn’t been bad enough, Brooke walked in on them right in the middle of a .

. . heated moment. Since then, anything that smells even faintly of friends teetering into more puts her on edge.

This thing between Isabella and Lily has her extra tense, especially with how badly Alejandra and Clara want them together.

As soon as Isabella and Lily disappear down the hall and out of earshot, Valeria and Clara hurry into the kitchen with Alejandra. Speculation sparks immediately as Clara mixes fresh drinks.

“They are one million percent hooking up,” Alejandra declares.

“No way.” Valeria shakes her head. Not because she doesn’t believe it, but because it seems like so much more than that.

“Val, you didn’t see them at the lake last week. They were eye-fucking each other,” Clara replies, handing her a vodka cranberry.

Alejandra nods so aggressively that the ice in her glass rattles.

“I hope so!” Valeria blurts out, excitement slipping through. She can’t remember the last time either of her friends looked this happy. Even though they’re trying to hide it, their attraction toward each other is obvious.

Brooke scoffs from behind them. Clara and Alejandra roll their eyes and choose to ignore her, but Valeria cringes, and her shoulders tense. She hadn’t realized Brooke had walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Valeria cusses under her breath. She should have known where Brooke was, should have heard her walk in, or at least kept her mouth shut. She knows how much Brooke hates that she’s rooting for them, too.

“I should—” Valeria points over her shoulder.

Clara and Alejandra give her a reluctant nod before Valeria turns to follow Brooke back to the couch, trying to prepare herself for the argument she knows is coming.

Brooke plops onto the couch, and Valeria stands between her legs, combing her fingers gently through her hair, brushing it away from her face.

The living room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of the stone fireplace across the room and the flicker of the TV, but Valeria can easily see the tension in Brooke’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Valeria whispers, kneeling in front of her to press a soft kiss to her cheek in a fragile attempt to soothe her.

“Don’t.” Brooke leans back.

The rejection lands square in Valeria’s chest. Heat creeps up her neck, and her whole chest tightens in response. Her breath hitches, a sharp intake of air that does little to ease the pressure.

“I hope so.” What was she thinking? Why would she say that, knowing Brooke was near?

“Holy shit,” Alejandra gasps from across the room, eyes wide, before she bursts into delighted laughter. She doubles slightly at the waist, one hand flying out to steady herself against Clara’s arm right as Clara loses it alongside her.

Valeria looks up, confused, but after a second, she hears it, drifting down from the second floor: a moan.

It only lasts a second, but there’s no mistaking it.

She tries to keep her expression neutral for Brooke’s sake, but her heart hammers with a wild, disbelieving thrill, and excitement bubbles up for her friends.

She wants to scream and celebrate along with Clara and Alejandra, but the tension rolling off Brooke keeps her rooted.

“We’re leaving,” Brooke says, her voice clipped as she stands, marching toward their bedroom. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t need to. She knows Valeria will follow.

“What? Why?” Valeria asks, though she already knows, but the question escapes her anyway.

“Because I don’t want to be here anymore.” Brooke yanks her jewelry, makeup, and perfume from the dresser, tossing them onto the bed in a scattered pile before reaching for her duffel bag.

“Just wait until the morning. We can go super early, I promise.” Valeria steps closer, gently catching Brooke’s hand to slow her down, trying to anchor her back from the edge of whatever’s taken hold.

Brooke’s gaze drops to Valeria’s hand on her like it’s something foreign. For a second, Valeria thinks she might let herself lean into it. Instead, Brooke pulls away.

“No,” she says. “Now.”

“How can I fix this?” Valeria’s stomach tightens.

She lifts a hand to Brooke’s cheek, brushing her thumb gently across her skin, needing the touch to ease the anxiety taking over her body. Even in their worst moments, Brooke is the only one who can give her that.

“You can’t. I want to go home, so please let’s go.” Brooke says it with an almost pleading tone that cracks Valeria’s heart.

“Babe, it’s late, and the roads out of here are windy. It’s not safe.” Valeria doesn’t say this to cause an argument; it’s just that she knows that when Brooke gets like this, she needs to be walked back a little.

Brooke rolls her eyes, and that’s when Valeria realizes there’s no reasoning with her right now.

“You want to stay here so you can keep getting drunk with your friends, acting like you’re all still teenagers. I don’t like who you are around them lately.” She pushes Valeria’s hand away, but the sting of her words burns far more.

Valeria loves who she is around the girls, loves the lightness, the ease, the sense of returning to herself she feels around them.

With Brooke, Valeria wears so many masks that she sometimes loses track of which one is closest to the truth. She relies on the girls to ground her—because with them, she doesn’t have to be anyone but herself. And it feels so damn good to put all her different masks down here and there.

She doesn’t say any of that thought; she doesn’t want to keep arguing. All Valeria wants is one easy and fun night at the cabin with her favorite people.

She exhales slowly, and Brooke steps closer, slipping her hand beneath Valeria’s chin, tilting her face upward until her brown eyes lock with Brooke’s deep blues.

This move almost always makes Valeria melt, usually sending a warm, dizzying softness through her chest—but right now it feels wrong, misplaced, and unease coils low in her stomach, sharp enough to make her slightly nauseous.

“You know I’m right,” Brooke murmurs, nudging her nose against Valeria’s.

“No one knows you the way I do, and I’m telling you, you’re not yourself around them.

They make you act like someone you’re not.

Why do you think I came? It sure as hell wasn’t to see them.

It was for you. To make sure they didn’t fill your head with their dumb ass plan to force Isabella and Lily into fixing their friendship.

” Brooke shakes her head and scoffs. “And now they want them to start dating? Give me a break.”

Valeria’s gaze drops.

Brooke inhales, slow and sharp, letting her hand fall away before adding, “Clara and Alejandra are childish. I’ve always thought that, but with everything they’ve been doing lately, I think you’re better off never talking to them again.

All of them, if I’m being honest. I think we both know you’ve outgrown them. ”