Page 67 of Like First Love, Again

Tori pressed her forehead to Mia’s. “Did you think I was going to slip out in the middle of the night?”

Mia took a deep breath that Tori felt in her own expanding lungs. “You know what I mean,” she replied softly, fingertipsdrawing a lazy pattern over Tori’s shoulder blades and down her spine. “Like,here, here.”

She went quiet again, fingers idly drawing slow circles over Tori’s side like she was trying to find the words in her skin instead of her mouth. Tori shifted onto her side, giving Mia space to talk at her own pace, but leaving their legs tangled and hands on each other.

“I keep thinking about how hard it must have been for you,” Mia continued, gaze fixed on Tori like she’d rather be hiding under the covers. “Back then. In high school.” She looked away. “I just always wanted to be close to you. Touching you. I never meant to torment?—”

“Mia, you didn’t,” she lied. “I mean, not intentionally?—”

“Victoria, I slept with my hand in your shirt.” Something between a smile and a cringe flashed on her face. “It’s not like I was doing that with everyone else. I just didn’t realize how fucking gay that was.”

Tori let out a bark of unexpected laughter. “Mia, you don’t have to?—”

“Marigold is big on me talking about my feelings instead of swallowing them,” she went on and Tori listened. “I’ve been thinking so much about who I am.” She knitted her brows together like she desperately wanted to get the words right. “And I know this is stupid because I was married to a man until five freaking minutes ago, but?—”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” Tori promised, holding her as close as she could while still maintaining eye contact.

Mia took another breath to steady herself, and Tori wished she already knew what she was thinking so she wouldn’t have to say it. Tori didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. She just let Mia talk.

“I think I’m gay,” Mia said, as if testing it out. “And if heteronormativity weren’t a thing, I think I would have realizedthis so long ago. And it doesn’t mean that I didn’t… I mean… I loved Eric.” She looked down for a long time before finding Tori’s unwavering gaze again. “But I never slept with my hand in his shirt.” She paused. “And I thought it was just a you thing. But maybe it was amething.”

Tori waited for Mia to discover her own language. Gave her all the space while never loosening her hold.

“So anyways, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was always on top of you. Always touching you. I just... I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t know why.” She paused, then laughed to herself. “Actually, maybe I did.” She shook her head. “And then last night, I had you. I wanted you. But I didn’t know how to do what you did. And I feel like that makes me less… I don’t know.”

Tori could guess what Mia was unable to express. She brushed her hair from her face, focusing on the ridge of her brow and curve of her soft cheek.

“There is no wrong way to be who you are,” Tori promised. “I didn’t go from figuring out that I liked girls to having sex within a matter of months.” She ran her thumb over her cheek. “Be kind to yourself.”

“But I don’t want you to think?—”

“I don’t think anything.” She kissed her lips. “I don’t expect anything.” She kissed her chin. “And I don’t want you to move at anything other than your own speed.” She kissed her jaw.

Mia settled into silence again, but this time Tori could almost hear her thoughts trying to take shape. She blushed before she opened her mouth, the freckles scattered over her nose disappearing into a bright pink sea.

“Okay, so, this might be a dumb question,” Mia muttered, looking away from her. “And I’m probably about to ruin the vibe entirely, because, I mean, I don’t know how to?—”

Tori raised her brows. “You’re stalling.”

“I am not—” Mia stopped mid-defensive flail, groaned, and buried her face in Tori’s shoulder. “Okay, fine, I am. Jesus.”

Tori kissed the side of her head and waited.

“But what does it mean that I like…” She winced, peeking at Tori through her squint. “Penetration,” she whispered like the word was punishable by law.

Tori bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the adorable horror on Mia’s face.

Mia groaned again and dropped flat onto her back, arm flung across her eyes like a Victorian widow. Because it apparently lacked the theatrics she was looking for, Mia grabbed a pillow, covered her face, and screamed.

“Are you finished?” Tori asked after a beat.

“You’re going to think I’m trying to turn you into a man,” she shouted through the pillow.

If they were at her place, Tori would have sauntered across the room, pulled her strap out of the very nice box in her closet, and dropped it next to Mia. Instead, she lifted one side of the pillow.

“Enjoying that sensation is a physiological response,” Tori said gently, but Mia—who’d turned an alarming red that spread over her chest—didn’t look at her. “It has absolutely nothing to do with identity. I want to give you what you like. That’s not going to intimidate me. There are very straight women who don’t like it, and gold star lesbians who don’t want anything else.”

Mia didn’t open her eyes when she asked, “What’s a gold star?”

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