Janet returns with two flutes of bubbling champagne, and I tip the rim toward Sofía. Our glasses clink, but her gaze never leaves mine.
“To new beginnings,” I murmur, embedding every hope I have into the words.
She murmurs the same, her lips parting to say more, but she shakes her head, retrieving her laptop from her bag. We workfor a few hours—her finalizing the email blast for tickets while I edit underwater footage—before she grows tired, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.
I have to rouse her when we land in Los Angeles, groggy from sleep. There’s no exchanging of words, only uncomfortable glances as we deboard and move through customs. By the time we’ve made it to baggage claim, I am a mess of nerves, the warm courage from the champagne having fizzled away.
Molly and Doug chatter away, either oblivious or uncaring to the intense, awkward energy between us, and I collect Sofía’s bag when it appears on the carousel, dropping it in front of her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, moving the handle up and down while we wait for the remaining luggage.
I’m going to be sick.
“We’re gonna get going,” Molly says as Doug drags their bags toward the exit. “We’ll chat about expense reports next week.”
She gives me a bewildered look when I offer a thumbs-up, but I’m tracking my bag as it inches closer. Once it arrives, it’s time.
Doug and Molly disappear, waving goodbye to Sofía, who is as uncomfortable as I am. I drag my duffel onto the ground, and then I face Sofía, my heart clawing its way up my throat.
“So, this is it…” she says, fiddling with her purse strap. “I, uh, I had fun. This doesn’t have to change anything between us.”
My heartbeat drowns out the background noise, the rest of the world fading away until it’s nothing but her and me. I reach out to grab her hand, pausing to give her the opportunity to pull away.
She doesn’t. I wrangle the hope fighting to break free.
“What if I want it to?” I ask. “What if I want things to change? What if I don’t want what happened in Australia to stay there?”
I try to read every emotion flying across her face. Surprise. Confusion. Concern. Her fingers twitch in mine, and then she pulls her hand away, clutching it to her chest.
“I—What?”She gawks at me. “B-but…”
This is it. My one shot. I lay it all out for her.
I’d rather offer her everything and risk the heartbreak than hold back and lose the opportunity.
If you like the girl, you tell the girl.
“Come home with me, Sofía,” I plead, searching her face as my heart pounds in my ears. “Screw what we said. I don’t want this to end. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Her bag goes slack in her hand as her face pales to a sickly shade.
“Jett, I—” she sputters out, tripping over her words. Dread fills my stomach, that sliver of hope diminishing by the second.
I offer her time to formulate her words, understanding I sprang this on her. She expected an ending, and I’m asking for a new beginning—with her.
“I—” The wordsI love youalmost leave my lips, but I shove them back. “You’re right here,” I tell her, flattening my palm over my heart.
I’ve never been one for grand declarations of love. Words are empty without action. I love her enough to alter my sleep schedule so I don’t wake her at night; to memorize her coffee order and favorite movie; to offer aloe vera after she sunburns, even if she spends the whole day declaring she doesn’t burn.
Each breath is harder than the last, and after two minutes, I take her silence as an answer.
Sofía has spent far too much time in her life bending to accommodate other people’s emotions. I won’t force her to do the same for me. She doesn’t reciprocate, and I respect that. I’d rather have her as a friend than nothing at all.
I love her enough to walk away. She doesn’t share the same dreams as me, and there’s no blame in that. Sadness, yes. But I’d rather love with the risk of getting hurt than never love at all.
Her lips part, but I save her from formulating a response.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, the corner of my lips ticking up. It’s not quite a full smile, but it’s all I can offer her right now. I don’t want her to carry any guilt about this. “I don’t want to make it weird. Friends?”
