Valeria smiles like she doesn’t totally believe her, before her eyes wander around the room.
“Your house is super cozy,” she murmurs.
“Thanks,” Camila replies, glancing around her living room along with Valeria. Camila has always avoided neutrals—found them to be too cold, too empty. Millennial gray is, in her opinion, the worst interior design trend ever invented. Ever since she moved out of her parents’, she’s made sure her space is alive with color: deep reds, warm oranges, cool greens, soft blues, and dark walnuts with plants everywhere.
For a few minutes, the only sound is the quiet ticking of the clock above the bookshelf in Camila’s living room, along with Miso’s soft purr as she jumps onto Valeria’s lap.
After a few more minutes pass, Camila asks. “Do you want something to drink? Tea, water ... maybe something stronger?” It’s not the question she wants to ask; Camila wants to know what brought Valeria over, why she felt the need to apologize, but she doesn’t want to rush her.
Valeria lets out a soft laugh, one that sounds more like an exhale. “Water is perfect. Thank you.”
Camila nods and heads to the kitchen before filling a glass. When she turns back, Valeria is sitting forward, elbows on her knees, picking at the nail polish on her fingers, Miso now curled up beside her.
She hands her the glass, and Valeria takes it with both hands, her chipped nail polish catching the light.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“Can I get you anything else? Have you eaten?” Camila lowers herself onto the leather armchair across fromValeria.
Valeria shakes her head. “I haven’t, but I’m not hungry. You don’t have to make anything.”
“I can order us something. Are you craving anything? Even if you don’t eat it here, you can take it home and have it later,” Camila says, already pulling up her food delivery app.
“You’re sweet, but I’m okay.” Valeria rests her hand on Camila’s forearm.
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
Valeria nods. “Thank you.”
Silence takes them over again, but this time, Camila doesn’t let it linger.
“So,” Camila says.
“So,” Valeria echoes.
“You want to talk about what’s going on?” Camila asks, unable to keep the question to herself any longer.
Valeria bites her lip, staring into the glass as if the answer’s floating somewhere inside it.
“It’s ... complicated,” she finally says.
“I’ve got time,” Camila replies, gently. “But you don’t need to share,” she adds after a few seconds of silence between them.
Valeria takes a shaky breath, sets the cup of water on the coffee table, and rubs her palms together before speaking.
“I’ve been in this ... on-and-off relationship with my girlfriend, Brooke, for years now.” Valeria’s voice catches on the wordgirlfriendand it breaks something in Camila’s soul. “We got into a fight a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t heard from her since. It’s her thing. When we argue, or I do something she doesn’t agree with, she’ll disappear, and I never know when or if she’s coming back.”
An uncomfortable lump forms in Camila’s throat. “That’s so shitty, I’m so sorry,” she says, not wanting to overthink what she should or shouldn’t say.
Valeria looks away. “I honestly thought maybe that was it—that this time would be the one to stick.” She laughs quietly, the sound fragile. “So when I saw her last night, I was so damn relieved it wasn’t, but then I saw the way she was looking at you, and I realized she thought you and I were ... on a date or something, so I panicked and followed her, like always.” She swallows, gaze fixed to the floor.
“That’s understandable,” Camila says, knowing her commentary isn’t necessary but wanting to ease Valeria’s mind.
“It isn’t,” Valeria says, “And I’m so embarrassed. I haven’t been before, maybe because the girls are so used to me bolting after her, but when I realized I’d done it in front of you while we were in the middle of a conversation, I don’t know, I felt so shitty. I don’t want you to think poorly of me or that I’m a bad friend. All things considered, you probably already do, because I left you all to run after someone who disregards me so easily.”
Camila lets out a slow breath. “Hey,” she says softly, leaning forward and reaching for Valeria’s hand. “I don’t think that. You followed your heart. You clearly love her and want to see things through. I can’t fault you for that.”
“You’re not upset with me then?”
