“Yeah?” Zoe’s voice softens, attentive now.
Camila shifts her weight, fingers fidgeting briefly at her side. “God, I don’t know how to say this.”
Zoe doesn’t interrupt. She just watches her, patient, her expression slightly worried.
Camila takes another breath. “Zoe ... I like you. A lot. You’re honestly amazing, but I’m not good at casual dating. I’d rather be upfront about that. I don’t want to risk turning this into something that ends up messy ... or losing the chance to be friends.”
Zoe holds her gaze, the corners of her mouth softening into a thoughtful smile. “Okay,” she says quietly, her tone warm.
“Really?” Camila asks, almost in disbelief.
Zoe nods. “I like you too, Cam. I kind of figured from the moment you left my place that you weren’t looking for the same thing.” Her smile deepens slightly. “I’m glad you told me, though. I’d still love to be friends.”
Camila returns the smile, a sense of relief settling in.
Shortly after their conversation, they grab their stuff and say goodbye to Camila’s parents and headback to Zoe’s apartment, slipping into an easy back-and-forth as they chat about random things. Once there, they open a bottle of wine, settling in as music plays quietly in the background and the night just kind of flows with laughter and conversation.
Before long, New Year’s Eve arrives, and she and Zoe meet up with Valeria before heading over to Lily and Isabella’s place.
As midnight approaches, they all gather together, voices blending into a single excited countdown. Valeria and Camila stand close, stepping into the new year side by side.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VALERIA
January arrives with a hard, colorless cold that presses its face against the bookstore windows, where Valeria and Camila meet every Friday to pick out books for their buddy read of the week.
Camila always picks sappy lesbian romances, and Valeria picks sapphic fantasies they both struggle to keep up with, but thoroughly enjoy. If Valeria were being honest, she’d admit she picks high fantasy because she loves the text discussion it sparks with Camila—it turns a normal afternoon into something playful, her phone lighting up with messages that make her grin before she even opens them.
By February, Valeria considers Camila one of her best friends. They talk about anything and everything. She talks to Camila more than she does with the girls. Camila has a way of making Valeria feel seen in a way no one ever has before. She doesn’t have to hide her pain over Brooke, but around her, it’s almost as if it isn’t there. She thinks of Camila as a brightness at the edge of her day. She looks forward to every time they meet up for coffee before work or a drink at the end of their day. She sees Camila morethan she doesn’t, and when she laughs—really laughs—Valeria feels it like warmth spreading into her soul.
Around Valentine’s Day, Valeria almost texted Brooke, but signed herself up for therapy instead. She clicked with Jasmine almost instantly. It wasn’t anything dramatic at first—no big breakthroughs or tears in the first five minutes, as she’d expected. But it was ... easy. Jasmine asked questions that didn’t feel invasive, and just listened. By their third session, Valeria started sharing things she didn’t plan to—little stuff at first, then bigger things she usually kept to herself. Jasmine didn’t try to fix her or make her feel broken, just let her talk and gently guided her. Valeria hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that.
March loosens the city, and rain eases up enough for Valeria to invite Camila to a weekend market. The market is loud and alive. Camila stays close to Valeria’s shoulder as she guides her from stall to stall. Camila talks easily with strangers, but every few seconds she glances back to make sure Valeria is still there. That small checking-in—Valeria feels it like a tether, gentle and reassuring. When a sudden rain scatters the vendors, Valeria reaches for Camila’s wrist without thinking. They run for cover beneath the same narrow awning, breathless and laughing. Valeria tries to contain the flutter in her stomach when Camila doesn’t let go right away.
April comes with relentless rain. It starts one Thursday morning, a thin silver thread against the windows, and by the afternoon, it’s a steady percussion on the rooftop. Gutters are starting to overflow. The sky presses low and bruised. Still, Valeria grabs her keys and drives to Camila’s house as they planned, windshield wipers fight a losing battle against the downpour. Twice, she considers turning back. Twice, she doesn’t.
When Camila opens the door, she is barefoot, hair loose and damp at the ends, as if she’s just stepped out of the shower. For a moment, they only stare at each other—the rain thundering on the roof between them.
“You drove in this?” Camila asks, her eyes glancing at the dark sky, voice half incredulous.
“I didn’t want to cancel,” Valeria answers as water drips from her jacket onto the welcome mat.
Camila’s mouth twitches. “You’re soaked. Come in,” she says, stepping aside.
Inside, the house smells faintly of cinnamon and wet earth, the windows fogged at the corners. Valeria peels off her jacket while Camila disappears down the hall. A moment later, Camila reappears with a plush towel in her hands. The towel’s clean, faint scent of laundry soap rises between them. Camila steps in with little thought, close enough that the damp chill clinging to Valeria meets the warmth of her skin as she drapes it around Valeria’s shoulders and dries her hair. Camila smooths the towel down Valeria’s arms, squeezing warmth back into them.
“You’re freezing,” Camila murmurs, and the concern on Camila’s features almost chases away the cold seeping into Valeria’s bones, replacing it with a steady blooming warmth.
“Let me get you some dry clothes.”
Valeria meant their hangout to last a few hours tops. A movie. Maybe dinner, but by nightfall, the rain has grown louder and rougher. Camila is at the living room window, phone in hand, scrolling through weather updates. “They’re closing the bridge.”
“What?” Valeria asks, but it’s less a question than a shocked reaction. She hadn’t realized the downpour was that heavy.
Camila turns the screen toward her. Flash floodwarnings. Road closures are stacking up in red. “You’re not driving back tonight.”
Valeria looks at the window behind Camila. At the rain streaking sideways across the glass, and she nods, thankful she’s off tomorrow.
