Chapter 25 #2
The entire drive, they steal glances at each other, fingers intertwined between the seats.
Valeria tries—really tries—not to be that person, but Camila’s blazer shifts every time she turns the wheel or turns on her blinker, and it’s enough for Valeria to see she isn’t wearing a bra.
Valeria has to force herself to focus on literally anything else.
“How did it go with your parents?” Valeria asks, needing something else to focus on, but also, genuinely curious.
Camila squeezes her hand gently. “It was better than I expected. My mom was surprisingly warm, which will take some getting used to, and they really want to meet you.”
“They want to meet me?” Valeria says, an excited flutter in her chest at the thought.
“They do.” Camila brings Valeria’s hand to her lips. “Would you want to?”
“Absolutely,” Valeria says with a lot more excitement than the moment probably warrants.
“Really?” Camila raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were going slow.”
“I think we can both agree by now that I’m not particularly good at it.”
Camila laughs as she pulls into the valet.
They step out and walk inside, letting themselves be led to the elevator and up the Needle to their table overlooking Seattle.
“This is beautiful,” Camila says, looking down.
“Absolutely,” Valeria says, trying not to follow Camila’s gaze, only now remembering she has a mild fear of heights.
Camila thankfully doesn’t seem to notice.
After they each order a glass of wine, Camila reaches for Valeria’s hands. “Thank you for planning all of this and for being here with me tonight.”
“Thank you,” Valeria says, her thumb brushing over Camila’s knuckles. The touch is small, but it steadies her breathing, gives her something to hold on to besides the riot of feelings in her chest. “I feel very lucky to be here with you.”
Camila’s smile softens. “That’s exactly what I was going to say next.”
Their drinks are dropped off then, and they both take their glasses and raise them in a toast.
“To our first date,” Valeria says, and Camila echoes it, her eyes fixed on Valeria’s as they drink.
“Have I told you in the last thirty minutes how unfairly good that dress looks on you?” Camila asks, one brow arching.
Valeria smiles slowly. “I don’t think you have. So, please, tell me all about how much you like this dress.”
“I love it. Red looks great on you. I especially love the red lip,” Camila says, her eyes dipping to them.
“Really?” Valeria asks, suddenly feeling shy. “It was Alejandra’s doing. I’ve never worn it before.”
“You should, red is your color.”
Valeria smiles at that, and the feeling that blooms in her chest nearly takes her by surprise.
It’s a deep happiness, threaded through with an equally deep ache—grief for how hard things used to be, and relief at how easy they are now.
With Camila, everything is effortless. Camila doesn’t just accept her; she roots for her, openly and without hesitation.
Where Brooke would have scrutinized the color, lifted an eyebrow, and accused her of dressing for attention, Camila does the opposite.
She celebrates it. Encourages it. Makes Valeria feel bold instead of self-conscious.
The thought comes quietly, almost guiltily: How was I ever happy with Brooke?
In their time together, Camila has kept her floating and made her feel seen and adored and carefully held in a way Valeria didn’t realize she’d been missing.
“Hey,” Camila says gently, pulling Valeria from her thoughts. “Where did you go?”
Valeria lets out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “More places than I can voice,” Valeria says, not wanting to bring Brooke up.
“How has this past month been for you?” Valeria asks, though the question makes her nerves flare bright.
“Magical,” Camila says without hesitating. “And for you?”
“I think magical is the perfect word. I didn’t think relationships like this existed.” Valeria’s throat tightens. “Or, I knew they did. I’ve seen Lily and Isabella, then Clara and Alejandra, fall deeply and tenderly in love with each other. I never thought I’d have that.”
She wants to correct it, say she didn’t mean to say love, but correcting it feels wrong because Valeria knows she’s dangerously close to it, so instead she keeps going, even with the nerves buzzing under her skin. “We’re not even official, and you’ve already ruined me for anyone else.”
Camila’s face lights up, and a crinkle appears on the corner of her eyes. “Perfect,” she says, squeezing Valeria’s hand a little. “That was my plan all along.”
Valeria shakes her head, smiling despite herself, but the nervous flutter doesn’t fade. If anything, it grows tight and hopeful for their future.
“I know this is our first date, but what was your first date like?” Valeria asks, wanting to know everything about Camila, but also needing a second to process the feelings buzzing through her.
Camila taps her chin, trying to recall the memory. “It was at the church camp my mom sent me to. It technically wasn’t my first date ever, but it was my first date with a girl, which I’d argue matters more.”
“Hey, I agree, you don’t have to convince me, but didn’t you have a girlfriend before going there?”
Camila nods, almost sad. “I did, but we barely saw each other outside of school, so we never went on a proper date. Honestly, I don’t know why I was so obsessed with her.”
“I mean, you were a teenager, I think we all obsess over our girlfriend or boyfriend for literally no reason.”
“True, true.”
“So tell me about this date,” Valeria asks, leaning forward, chin resting on her hand.
“It was super sweet. We were at the same camp, but they’d separated us into groups, so we didn’t talk for the first week we were there, but I spotted her the second she stepped off her bus.
I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, but I was too shy to walk up to her and introduce myself. ”
“What happened next?” Valeria asks, leaning in further.
“One day, I found a secluded little spot by the lake, and a few minutes later, she walked in. I guess she’d found the spot a few days earlier and liked to read there.
We decided to share it, and from there we quickly became friendly.
Every day we’d sneak off and meet there to read or talk, anything but join any of the activities they planned for us. ”
Valeria laughs. Relating to it completely.
“After about a week of sneaking off to read, I opened up to her about why I was sent to the Christian camp. She told me she was gay too, and that only made us closer. A couple of days before we were both scheduled to go back home, she took me on a picnic by the lake with food she’d stolen from the camp counselor. ”
Valeria’s chest tightens, or rather freezes for a heartbeat, as the words echo inside her. She’s heard this before . . . or rather, lived it. Every detail—the camp, the picnic, the friend forced to go to a Christian camp.
“I wish we’d kept in touch. I liked her,” Camila adds.
“After that date, I doubled down on my gayness at home. If it hadn’t been for her, maybe I wouldn’t have come back with so much fight.
I wish I had asked for her number or her name.
I tried asking the other girls at the camp about her, but she was so quiet that no one got to know her.
Till this day, I only ever call her what I did then, Docinho. ”
Valeria’s eyes widen so sharply that for a second, she swears her vision splits in two, her heart hammering violently against her ribs, as if trying to escape.
“What’s going on?” Camila asks, concern creeping into her expression.
Valeria tries to shake herself out of her own head. She lets out a small breath. “Okay, this is probably going to sound kind of wild,” she says, leaning in a little closer. “But . . . I think that was me. Actually, scratch that, I know that was me.”
Camila’s brows knit together as she tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“Okay, maybe this is a wild coincidence,” Valeria says quickly, “that both our first dates sound the same, but when I was fifteen, I met a girl at summer camp, and we used to hang out by the lake, kind of like you and that girl.”
“Okay,” Camila says, waiting for Valeria to continue.
“I went on my first date with her, too. I made her a picnic with a bunch of stuff I stole.” Valeria huffs a small laugh.
“And the first day I met you, I told you your eyes reminded me of someone. It was her, because she also had one dark brown eye and one that almost looked like honey.” Valeria second-guesses herself but keeps going.
“Her name was Maria, though. That’s the only part that doesn’t line up with you. ”
Camila’s eyes widen. “My name is Maria Camila,” she says. “When I was younger, everyone called me Maria. I didn’t start going by Cam—or Camila—until college.”
It clicks for both of them, and then they’re laughing, surprised, and a little breathless. It’s louder than they mean it to be, enough that a few nearby tables look over.
“I can’t believe it,” Camila says, reaching for Valeria’s hands. “I’ve always wondered about you, hoped I’d magically meet you one day.”
“Me too,” Valeria says. “I wanted to ask for your number, but I got so nervous I didn’t.”
“Same,” Camila admits with a small smile. “I was going to on the last day, but you left a day early, and I ran out of time.”
“Wow,” Valeria says, after a few minutes of silence, both of them wrapping their heads around the wildness of it all. “Talk about invisible string theory.”
Camila squints and shifts her weight. “What’s that?”
Valeria huffs a quiet laugh, glancing down at their intertwined fingers. “It’s this idea that there’s an invisible string tying people destined to be together,” she says. “And no matter how far you drift, it’ll always help you find your way to each other.”
Camila’s smile softens. “So,” she says gently, “even when we didn’t know it, we were still kind of . . . being pulled together?”
“Exactly,” Valeria replies. “Like the universe was playing the long game.”