VALERIA
Would spending an entire month—every spare moment they had between the week and weekend—lost in each other, chasing the other’s orgasms, count as being productive?
Valeria would argue yes.
The most productive time she’d ever spent doing anything, in fact. Learning every little thing that makes Camila shiver with desire, discovering how easily they can unravel each other, how naturally they fit. It felt less like a distraction and more like devotion—time so full it leaves nothing wasted.
Valeria never knew sex could be like that—full of longing and passion, gentle yet intense. It’s had her floating on a cloud all month, making the hardest days at the clinic manageable. It’s not only the physical side of her relationship with Camila that has her feeling this way; it’s everything.
Everything with her feels hazy and golden, like living inside a daydream. Cooking, cleaning, even doing absolutely nothing somehow feels better with her around. Likewhen Valeria curls against Camila’s chest as they lie on the couch while they each read their own books, or Camila reads aloud just because she knows Valeria loves the sound of her voice, fingers absentmindedly running through Valeria’s hair.
Valeria finally understands something she never fully did before—the way her friends used to talk about their partners, the almost ridiculous urge to always be with them or near them. When Valeria told the girls that she and Camila were officially together, Clara had joked that they’d see her again in a couple of months. Valeria laughed it off and playfully rolled her eyes, because it had never been the case with Brooke. Sure, they were together most of the time, but Brooke loved going out and going to parties, especially at the beginning of their relationship.
But now, after an entire month spent wrapped up in Camila, with no desire to leave her house except for work or food, she gets it. Completely. Why would she want to be anywhere else, when everything she wants is right here—when everything she wants is Camila.
Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling of being with Camila.
After years of arguing, being let down, and fighting for someone who never truly appreciated her, she’s found something different. Someone who adores her, who excites her, who respects her, andcares. The contrast is almost dizzying—in the best way. She’s spent so long bracing for disappointment that being treated gently, consistently, and wholeheartedly still feels unreal sometimes.
In barely a month of dating Camila, Valeria feels more love than she did in six years with Brooke.
Love.
The word has been turning over and over in Valeria’smind for days now, and every time it appears, it brings everything good with it. Compassion, calm, certainty, and today, it’s no different.
Morning arrives slowly, sunlight spilling through the blinds in soft, golden stripes, glowing against Camila’s skin, making her look like something out of a dream. The wordlovesettles nicely in Valeria’s chest.
A whole month of their relationship has slipped by in a blur. Valeria can’t remember the last time she slept in her own apartment, or when she was last there. It’s probably been since the Sunday after their first date. She’s been getting by with the same three pairs of scrubs for work and cycling through Camila’s clothes when she gets back.
She never thought she was the U-Haul type. It took nearly a year before she and Brooke moved in together—not because Brooke wasn’t pushing for it, but because Valeria had never lived with anyone besides her parents, and moving in with a partner felt like such a big step that she didn’t want to rush it. But with Camila, the desire is immediate. Valeria craves the simple act of being near her, breathing the same air, existing in the same space. She wants to wake up beside her every morning, to feel Miso stretch across her chest before settling herself atop Camila’s head. She wants shared mornings, shared coffee, and her belongings scattered around Camila’s space.
The longing for that life is so sharp it almost hurts.
“Why the sad face so early in the morning?” Camila murmurs, eyes still heavy with sleep as her arm slings over Valeria, pulling her in closer until their noses are pressed together.
“Just thinking about how I haven’t been home in weeks,” Valeria answers. Camila’s eyes open a little wider, suddenly, more awake.
“Do you need something?” she asks gently. “Or are you thinking you want to start staying there after work?”
Valeria shakes her head. “Neither.”
Camila visibly relaxes. “Then what is it?”
“It’s silly.”
Camila tilts her head, thumb brushing slow circles over Valeria’s cheek. “Nothing you think or feel is silly. Especially not when it’s making you look like that.” Camila leans in to kiss Valeria’s temple. “Tell me.”
Camila doesn’t rush her after she says, “Tell me.” She stays there—warm and solid. Valeria’s instinct is to deflect; she doesn’t want to scare her. A month isn’t enough time, even if they’ve known each other for longer.
Valeria can’t seem to meet Camila’s eyes, so she stares at her collarbone instead. Chews on her bottom lip, not sure what to do next. When Valeria’s eyes meet Camila’s, the safety in them makes her feel brave. She can voice it, and if Camila isn’t ready, they will talk about it. Like they always do.
Valeria draws in a deep breath. “I was thinking ... I don’t ever want to go back to my apartment.” Valeria pauses to bite the inside of her cheek as she tries to get her heart to settle. “I know it’s soon, but I want to be here with you and Miso every morning. I know that sounds wild, considering we’ve only officially been together for a month, but I—I don’t want to be far from you. Ever. Is that completely irrational?”
Camila’s fingers tighten around hers, her smile blooming slowly. “Irrational? No. Unexpected, maybe, but definitely not irrational.” Her thumb ghosts over Valeria’s bottom lip, a touch light enough to make her breath catch. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, actually.”
Valeria’s stomach does a nervous flip, a flutter of wings trapped in her chest. “You have?”
Camila nods, eyes steady on hers. “Yeah. I just ... didn’t want to scare you off by saying it first.” Her thumb keeps tracing slow, absentminded circles against Valeria’s skin. “But I keep catching myself thinking about it. Like, whether you’d want the left or the right side of the closet. Or if, when we move in together, you’d let me reorganize the bookshelves by color instead of by last name, like yours are at the apartment.”
