Page 54 of Like First Love, Again

This time when they kissed, it was softer. Slower so Mia could memorize the shape of Tori’s mouth before she had to miss it. Slow enough for Tori to know in her marrow that Mia was coming back to her.

Fingers gliding through Tori’s hair, Mia cupped the side of Tori’s face to hold her still. To keep her. To kiss her long and tenderly and achingly deep because Tori’s lips were the only place Mia could put the feeling rampaging in her chest. The one getting too big for its enclosure.

When Mia eased out of the kiss, she didn’t give herself a chance to hesitate. “Why don’t you come with me?” She met Tori’s gaze without getting off of her. “To Philly.” The idea gained momentum with every racing thump of Mia’s pulse. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but maybe you could stay for a few days or a few weeks or I don’t know. I mean. As long as you want or can?”

Tori smiled at Mia like she was a precocious little thing. “While it would be the absolute gayest thing on the planet to come with you to your divorce.” She laughed. “I think you might have to do it on your own.” Tori touched Mia’s eyebrow scar—the one she’d stopped coloring in—like it was the part of her she wanted to keep. “I’m not calling you avoidant, but…”

Mia cringed. “But we both know I’ve been avoidant AF,” she agreed before dropping onto Tori and nestling into her neck. She took a deep breath, greedily keeping her scent for when she didn’t have her this close. “I’m just so scared of making the wrong move,” she confessed before she could filter herself. “All I’ve ever made are mistakes.”

Tori’s arms around her, strong and sure and unwavering, tricked Mia into relaxing. “I wish you weren’t so incredibly hard on yourself, Mia. Give yourself a little grace.”

It sounded so simple. The wayjust be honestsounded simple. As if the truth didn’t have consequences. As if truths couldn’t be more destructive than lies.

“No matter what, I’m going to be here for you,” Tori reminded her the way she had so many times since they’d kissed under the stars for the first time.

“I’m so afraid that this is all going to get overwhelming in a hurry and I’m going to lose you,” Mia confessed. “You’re giving me too much.” She buried her face deeper into Tori, clutched her tighter like she was doing her best impression of the neediest tick. “As soon as I’m gone you’re going to realize that I’m a selfish little cretin.”

Tori stroked Mia’s hair in long, soothing motions. “I wish you were kinder to yourself,” she said, like Mia had woundedherwith the insult. “This is how relationships go. Sometimes you’re both giving a hundred percent, and sometimes you have to give a little more to cover the other. But as long as it all balances out in the end, does it really matter? If I give you more now and you give me more later, that sounds pretty fair to me.” She explained it so reasonably, the knot in Mia’s stomach loosened without her trying.

Calmed by the steadiness of Tori’s touch and her breathing and her words, Mia lulled herself into believing her. “I promise I’ll pay you back with interest.”

Tori’s soft chuckle vibrated against Mia’s chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” she promised, sure that there was nothing she’d ever deny Tori. That there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for her. “Don’t ever doubt that I know how lucky I am.”

Mia let the quiet stretch between them again, but this time she was desperately searching for the right words. But she still didn’t know how to explain the intractable tangle.

“I’ve been rethinking everything,” she admitted. “How we were back then, you know? Well, how I was.” She paused, fingersidly tracing the hem of Tori’s shirt like it might help pull the words out. “I keep going back to all those sleepovers and late-night drives and the way I used to look at you when I thought you weren’t paying attention. I thought I was just protective. Possessive, maybe.” She was tired of not having language at her disposal. “But I can’t make sense of what it all meant exactly.”

“There’s not going to be an entrance exam,” Tori said with a little laugh, hand still moving in a steady rhythm over Mia’s hair. “You can just be who you are without a label. You don’t have tobeanything.”

“I know,” Mia replied, even though she wasn’t sure she agreed. “But I think it’s important for me to understand my identity. To understand who I am.” She sat up.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made a joke. You’re absolutely right about knowing who you are. I just don’t want you to put so much pressure on yourself. There’s no rush to figuring out which letter in the alphabet mafia you are.”

Mia rolled onto her side, but stayed tucked in against Tori. “I just keep wondering – if I hadn’t gotten so serious with Eric so fast in college, would I have figured this out earlier? That I’m attracted to women,” she added with the same stability of a fawn trying out its new legs.

The admission sounded so small, but it was so huge in Mia’s pounding heart. It felt like the very beginning of meeting herself for the first time.

“Compulsory heterosexuality is a thing, Mia. Your being straight was assumed your whole life.” She ran her hand up and down Mia’s side. “And then that straight identity was reinforced at every turn so you’d never question whether you could be suppressing any other identity.”

Mia digested the concept she’d never heard in her entire life. “But you knew,” she said after a while. “You knew you weren’t straight.”

“It’s a lot easier to figure out when you have zero sexual attraction toward dudes,” she joked. “It’s not like I didn’t try to conform. I just couldn’t. That doesn’t mean the pressure wasn’t there.”

Mia didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how to, not with words. Not yet. There was still so much she didn’t understand. Still so much of herself she hadn’t met.

She let her head fall back against Tori’s shoulder and looked up at the ceiling that had watched her grow up. It looked different now. Everything did. Like something had been knocked loose inside her, and she was waiting to see where it landed.

She didn’t know exactly who she was becoming. Who she was uncovering. But for the first time, the thought of not knowing didn’t make her panic. It just made her curious. And with Tori beside her, she was more hopeful than afraid.

Without a word, Mia reached for her hand. When Tori’s fingers laced through hers a breath later—steady, sure—Mia held on. Eyes closed and chest full, she let herself imagine what came next.

Twenty-Seven

Mia’s Northwest Philadelphia neighborhood looked eerily unfamiliar. The century-old brick homes, mostly two-story twins, hadn’t changed. Her neighbors across the street still parked their enormous work vans on both sides of the narrow road. The chestnut trees lining the blocks were just as green as when Mia had left a month and a half earlier. And yet, nothing looked right. Or maybe it was Mia who was wrong.

By the time the ride-share dropped her off at the house, Mia was sure that she didn’t belong there anymore. That she’d lefthomebehind, along with all the things that didn’t fit in her purse.

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