Page 51

She almost doesn't come out tonight, because what happened has her so wound up she isn't sure she can act like everything is fine. But at the last minute she decides she's not going to let one night with Laia throw off the routine she designed precisely to empty her head. And yet here she is, and she can't stop staring, because Laia's composure is unbearable while Claudia has spent the last several nights unable to sleep more than two hours in a row. She can't stop turning it over—how it happened, the way Laia looked at her, what she said, what Claudia felt—but most of all she keeps coming back to the conversation in the parking lot, if you can even call it that: two sentences exchanged, and then nothing, just move on, forget it ever happened.

Laia shifts, settles more comfortably on her stool, takes a sip from her glass, then glances up for a moment, meets Claudia's eyes, and looks away instantly—and that's the moment the anger inside Claudia sharpens most, and also the moment she realizes what she actually wants. She wants Laia to get up, come across the room, and say something, anything—get angry, glare at her when Nadia buries her hands in Claudia's hair, make a face, give her some sign, any sign, that what happened between them meant something to Laia. But Laia does none of that, and the anger inside Claudia swells with every passing second, because the more indifferent Laia is, the more Claudia wants to do it again—to be with her again and have Laia look at her the way she looked at her that night.

"My favorite girl." Nadia appears beside her, sliding between her and Pol, offering the slow, lazy smile that on any other night would automatically pull an answering one from Claudia's lips.

Not tonight. What comes out instead is the fury she's been storing for days, which she pours into a fierce kiss that catches Nadia off guard and makes Pol's eyebrows shoot up.

"Damn, I didn't know you were that worked up," he jokes, and then he disappears toward the middle of the dance floor.

"Neither did I," Nadia says, "and I'm not complaining, but are you okay?"

"Of course. It's not like I've never kissed you before," Claudia says, unable to hide the awkwardness beneath her words. "I don't see what the problem is."

Nadia frowns, and when a girl leaves a stool empty she grabs it and sits down, pulling Claudia in closer.

"I never said it was a problem. You just seem—I don't know—on edge. Angry."

"I'm perfectly fine," Claudia insists, but even as she says it her eyes slide toward the corner.

It's only for a fraction of a second, but Nadia, who knows her well enough, catches it.

"Were you trying to make her jealous? Is that why you kissed me like that?"

"Jesus." Claudia clicks her tongue and turns to leave, but Nadia's hand closes around her arm and pulls her back, right between her legs, pressed against her body.

"I'm not blaming you, Claudia. I'm asking because I have the feeling that tonight I'm a tool, and you know I don't mind being one if that's what you need—but at least tell me."

Claudia looks down, ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to seem like that. I just wanted to—god, I don't even know," she murmurs, but she does know. She wanted to get Laia's attention, to pull a reaction out of her. But when she looked over, Laia had her phone in her hand, ignoring her, and that only made everything worse—because the anger pushed her to act cruelly, like a petty, spiteful person she doesn't recognize, and the last thing she needs is to feel like she doesn't know herself anymore.

"What do I have to do to get you to open up and actually talk to me?" Nadia asks, squeezing her hand with affection. "You're going to run yourself into the ground if you keep swallowing everything, Claudia, I mean it. Orgasms aren't going to make whatever's eating at you go away—they'll dull it for a few hours, that's all. I don't think that's the solution you actually need."

Claudia's eyes shine and there's a knot in her throat. She'd love to let herself go with Nadia, open her mouth and let everything that's suffocating her come pouring out—tell her all of it, empty herself out, share with someone else what's tearing her apart, hear a different perspective that might help her see it all differently. But she's so used to swallowing it down that by now she doesn't know how to do anything else.

"Maybe another day," she finally says, meeting her eyes. "I really would like to, but right now I can't. I wouldn't know how to—"

"Okay. I'll take knowing you're at least willing to try sometime. I'll always be here." Nadia runs her fingers along Claudia's cheek in a slow, gentle stroke, and Claudia closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, angry at herself for wishing it were different fingers touching her that way, different eyes looking at her with the hunger Nadia always has for her.

"I think I'm going to head out. I have a headache."

"Of course. Get some rest, Claudia." They say goodbye with a kiss, and Claudia turns and disappears into the crowd toward the exit.

It takes Laia a few seconds to realize Claudia isn't going to dance or look for someone—she's leaving. She climbs down from her stool and pushes through the crowd as fast as she can until she's outside, and she spots Claudia walking along the sidewalk several yards from the entrance. She quickens her pace until she catches up and falls into step beside her.

"We're leaving already?" she asks, surprised, since they haven't even been inside an hour.

Claudia doesn't answer. She just walks with her hands in her pockets and her eyes straight ahead until they reach Laia's car, and she stops beside it, waiting for Laia to get in and drive off so she can go inside.

"Are you okay?" Laia asks, unlocking the car at the same time.

"Yes."

Laia frowns and glances around.

"Are you going somewhere else?"

"I'm going home, Laia, so go ahead and drive. I want to go to sleep."