Chapter 3
Sierra stood in front of her bathroom mirror for the third time in twenty minutes, wiping off lipstick that was too much, then not enough. Her hands wouldn’t stop doing that stupid trembling thing, and Salem sat on the toilet lid watching her like she’d lost her mind.
“Don’t judge me. This is a big deal, okay?”
It was the first date in three years and the first date with a woman ever.
The words kept looping in her head like a broken record.
She always knew her attraction didn’t have gender lines.
She just never had the words to describe it.
The last three years, she just ignored the thoughts, but she couldn’t do that anymore.
It was lonely. She needed to see if it was just attraction or if there could be more with someone other than her old high school boyfriend.
Three years. That’s how long she’d been hiding behind her camera, telling herself work was enough.
For her, photography was all the intimacy she needed.
Capturing other people’s moments, joys, and connections—keeping herself on the other side of the lens where she was safe and nothing could touch her. Where she couldn’t get hurt again.
But then Monica happened.
Monica caught Sierra off guard at the bookstore last week. She was in the horror section, because where else would you be on a Tuesday afternoon? She was reaching for the new Stephen King when a voice behind her said, “Finally! Another woman who appreciates a proper nightmare before bed.”
Monica was gorgeous in an effortless way that made Sierra self-conscious of her ratty band tee.
She had thick auburn hair in a messy bun and wore glasses that made her look both studious and rebellious.
They’d ended up talking for forty minutes about whether modern horror had lost its teeth compared to the classics.
Then Monica just asked her out. Simple as that. Just like that.
Sierra’s instinct was to say no, run, or make an excuse about being busy with shoots.
But something stopped her. Maybe it was Monica’s genuine smile.
Or maybe she was just tired of being scared, but she heard the word “yes” coming out of her mouth.
She couldn’t take it back, and now, she was terrified all over again, getting ready.
Sierra finally settled on a soft black sweater that was casual yet nice enough to show she’d made an effort, jeans that actually fit, and the boots Thalia bought her she never wore because they seemed too fancy.
She grabbed her camera bag out of habit, then set it down.
Tonight was about being present, not hiding behind a lens.
She looked at herself one more time. This would work. Maybe.
Monica picked a trendy farm-to-table place downtown for the restaurant.
The place had dim enough lighting to hide Sierra’s nervous sweating but bright enough to see the menu.
She was already there, waving from a corner booth, and Sierra’s stomach did a weird flip thing that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Monica said, “You came!” before standing up for an awkward should-we-hug moment before they both sat down.
“Of course I came.” Sierra tucked her hair behind her ear, then untucked it. Then she tucked it again. She needed to chill.
Though part of her couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to sit across from someone else—dark hair, eyes that held storms and sunlight in equal measure. She shook the thought away. The park girl was a ghost. Monica was here, real, trying.
The conversation started stilted, both doing a polite dance around the appetizer menu.
Then, Monica launched into a story about accidentally buying a foreign language horror novel online thinking it was in English and trying to read it with Google Translate.
Sierra choked on her water, laughing. After that, it got easier.
They talked about everything. Monica worked at a veterinary clinic and had stories about cats that made Salem look angelic.
Sierra told her about the community center and the one person who drew only eyeballs for three weeks.
They discovered they both thought The Haunting of Hill House series was amazing, both agreed books are always better than their movie or TV adaptations, and they’d both cried at the same part of Hereditary.
Monica was smart and funny. When she listened, she tilted her head, making you feel like what you said was the most interesting thing in the world. When their entrees came, they kept talking through bites, gesturing with forks, looking ridiculous.
But, and there was definitely a but.
Sierra waited for the spark and pull she’d heard about that made your chest tight and scattered thoughts.
That feeling she’d had standing in the park, watching a stranger laugh with sparrows, unable to look away.
Monica was objectively beautiful and kind.
They had tons in common. On paper, this should’ve been perfect.
Yet sitting across from her felt like hanging out with Calliope. Comfortable, fun, and platonic.
The weird thing? She had a gut instinct that Monica felt it too. Somewhere between the main course and their splitting a piece of chocolate lava cake, the energy had shifted. Not bad, just different. Like they’d silently agreed they were forcing something that wasn’t there.
Monica said, “So, this is the part where I’m supposed to suggest we go somewhere else to continue the evening, right?”
Sierra let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
“But we’re not doing that.”
“No.”
Monica grinned with the most genuine smile she’d given all night. “Thank God. I thought it was just me. You’re amazing, Sierra. Genuinely one of the coolest people I’ve met in forever. But...”
“But it’s giving more book club vibes than date vibes.”
Monica laughed so loud the couple at the next table looked over. “Exactly!”
They paid the check, split it evenly without any of that weird who-pays dance, and walked out into the chilly night air. The streetlights made everything look softer, more forgiving.
“For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you said yes. Even if this wasn’t... you know. You seemed so closed off at first, like you’d built this whole fortress around yourself.”
Sierra blinked. “That obvious?”
“Little bit. But hey, you said yes. That’s something.”
Sierra said quietly, “Yeah. It is.”
They hugged, a real one this time, not awkward at all. Just two people who’d figured out exactly where they stood with each other. Monica headed toward her car, turned back to wave, and that was that.
Walking home, Sierra felt something unexpected.
Not disappointment, but... possibility. Like a door she’d deadbolted shut had finally cracked open, just an inch.
She knew she was attracted to women, but now she could imagine herself in a relationship with one.
That part was clear now. She spent half of dinner noticing the way Monica’s collarbones in that sweater.
But attraction wasn’t everything. There had to be something else, something more.
Something like what she’d felt in the park that day. That pull, that certainty. Maybe she was being ridiculous, holding every potential connection up against one fleeting moment with a stranger she’d never see again. But now that she knew that feeling existed, she couldn’t un-know it.
And she’d felt it with the girl from the park. If she could ever find her again.
She passed the park near her apartment, the one she usually rushed through without looking.
Tonight she slowed down. The trees were budding, threatening spring’s arrival.
A couple sat on a bench, leaning into each other.
An old man scattered seeds for the pigeons despite the sign saying not to.
Normal life continued around her, a stark contrast to her lonely, self-imposed isolated world.
Three years was a long time to be scared. Maybe she was done with that. Maybe this thing with Monica, though not romantic, had reminded her what it felt like to try. To risk something. To sit across from someone and hope for magic, even if it didn’t show up this time.
She’d know it when she found it. Whatever “it” was.
Maybe it was the girl in the park. That is, if she could ever find her again.
She felt weird standing in the lamplight, like something was coming.
Like the universe was finally done with her hiding phase and had plans she couldn’t see yet.
Spring was coming. Change was coming. Hell, maybe love was coming.
The thought scared her less than it would have this morning.
Salem waited by the door, doing his best impression of a cat abandoned for years instead of three hours.
“It was fine. Good, even. Just not... the thing.”
She scooped him up. He purred against her chest, which she took as understanding.
Later, she looked in the mirror again while getting ready for bed. It was the same face as this morning, but something felt different. More open, maybe. Like she’d been looking at herself through a camera lens for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to see clearly.
Her phone buzzed.
Monica: Thanks for tonight! Horror book club soon if you’re up for it. I’ll bring the wine if you bring your Stephen King opinions.
Sierra: It’s a date. But like, not a date-date.
Monica replied with a laughing emoji.
Yeah. This was good. This was right.
She set her phone down and walked to her window, looking at the city lights. Tomorrow she had lunch with Thalia. Her stomach did another flip as she thought about telling her sister. The time for change is now.