Page 32 of Like First Love, Again

Tori hadn’t asked why she was so quiet, but Tori never pushed her into anything. She always let Mia set the tone. And even though she never said anything out loud, Mia could always tell Tori hadn’t liked any of the guys she dated.

Would Mia have said something if she’d known it was going to be the last time they’d ever be together like that? One of the last times they’d speak before Tori cut her off?

Rather than regret not sharing the moment with Tori, a different thought returned. It gnawed at her belly and clawed at her chest. What if she’d gone to prom with Tori? Not as friends but for real.

Would it have been different with Tori? Even before she’d fully formed the question, her mind screamed with a resoluteYES. Nothing ever felt as real as when she experienced it with Tori. She made colors more vibrant, music louder, laughter deeper. Tori was like salt and sunlight—the most necessary things that were most noticeable in their absence.

Tori would not have left her underwhelmed by the experience. Not with how intense Mia’s feelings were. The ones she’d never noticed were so unusual between friends.

“You okay?” Tori asked, perfect brows furrowed, the amusement gone from her glossy lips.

“Yeah, fine,” she lied, phone in hand. “Picture?”

Tori’s shoulders relaxed, but her expression didn’t change. God, why did Tori have to feel every ripple in Mia’s mood? Miabarely knew what the hell she was feeling. There was no way she could put it into words.

“Are you?—”

“You trying to get out of commemorating our reunion, Cruz?” Mia joked, hoping Tori would let her slip away without pressing her.

Tori responded with a resigned smile. “Far be it from me...”

After rigging a makeshift tripod, they posed near the front door because the rest of the house was a disaster. While Mia tried to remember how to take more than shallow breaths, Tori shot her an unreadable, but vaguely mischievous, glance.

“I guess because I’m in a suit and still a hair taller than you despite the stilts”—Tori moistened her lips—“I go in the back?”

“Who needs gender norms?” Mia turned, sliding her hands up Tori’s arms before resting them on her shoulders.

The tuxedo fabric was starched but soft beneath Mia’s touch. She stepped in closer. Close enough to get high on Tori’s dark and spicy perfume. When Tori’s hands found her waist, Mia felt her touch everywhere. Tori’s grip was light and unsure until she well and truly held her, and Mia closed her eyes.

Mia wanted to exist in the moment. To let the unspoken potential of a brewing storm build without having to see the aftermath. And then Tori was leaning in. Mia knew it by the seismic shift in her body. Knew it by the warm breath she could almost imagine landing against her parted lips.

Heart rocketing, Mia’s head swam and her stomach clenched. She almost felt the kiss. Almost felt Tori’s soft lips and centering touch. At the imagined contact, her body temperature soared, making her skin sweaty and claustrophobic. She wanted to peel off her clothes and dive into the pool with Tori right behind her. Wanted to know what this was without having to talk about it. Without ruining it or chasing it away.

And then Tori’s voice was low and soft against the shell of her ear. “You planning on taking that picture telepathically?”

Eyes fluttering open, Mia was disoriented. Her unkissed lips tingled with the ache of absence. With overwhelming hunger. “What?” she breathed.

Tori’s eye makeup was so dark it made her irises look like amber. Bright brown and holding the secrets of the universe, they trapped Mia in place, immortalized her for all time like a hapless Neolithic insect in a gemstone tomb.

“The picture,” Tori said, voice distant like she felt the same unstoppable urge tearing at Mia’s good sense.

“It was on a timer,” she said, vaguely aware of having set it.

“You sure?” Tori cocked her head to the side before releasing her and walking to the phone.

Unsure she could trust her knees not to buckle if she moved, Mia stayed put. Tori looked down at the phone. The rise and fall of her chest revealed her slow, deep breath. Mia felt every nanosecond of Tori’s breathing like she’d accidentally consumed psychedelics somewhere along her errands. She tasted her inhale like colors and heard her exhale like sunrise.

“You were right,” Tori said, but Mia had already forgotten what they were talking about. She was too consumed with the unbearable weight of almost.

Seventeen

Sweat dripped down Tori’s back when she stepped off the dance floor. The Fireball shot Daniela had guilted everyone into taking with her was still burning in her chest as she looked around. Packed, the reception hall was half class reunion. Girls Tori hadn’t seen in over a decade hugged her and bombarded her with questions and made her feel welcome.

Tori wished she was taller while she scanned the room, music pounding against her ears. She’d expected to see Mia gloating after Tori voluntarily participated in theMacarena. To be brimming withI-told-you-it-would-be-fun-to-see-old-friendsenergy. But when Tori broke free from Daniela’s sweaty hug, Mia was nowhere to be found.

On the hunt for a bottle of water, Tori told herself wherever Mia was, she was not her problem to fix. She shouldn’t be wondering why Mia had been acting off since she picked her up hours earlier. Why she’d been uncharacteristically quiet.

Was it the divorce? Her detachment hadn’t felt like grief, but maybe?—

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