Feel

The house was alive with conversation and the smell of coffee when we returned.

Tara was laughing loudly with Freddie, my cousins were chattering in rapid Spanish, and my tía was busy at the stove, flipping plantains in a pan. The sounds of home. It was comforting and overwhelming all at once.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and took a sip, my body still aching from the emotional weight of the morning. Before I could slip away, my tía caught my wrist.

"Ven aquí, mija," she murmured, pulling me aside.

I sighed, setting down my cup. "Tía, I'm fine."

Her sharp brown eyes softened. "Are you?"

I hesitated.

She tilted her head. "Estás tratando?" Are you trying?

I swallowed thickly, nodding. "I'm trying."

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "That's good, mija." Then, she glanced over my shoulder, her voice dropping in volume. "Y la cantante? Ella te hace feliz?"

My heart skipped.

I hesitated. "We're just friends."

"*Mhm.**" She hummed, unconvinced. "But it's complicated, no?"

I let out a breath. "Yes."

My tía reached out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear like she had when I was little. "Lena, don't make things complicated. Just feel. You deserve it."

The words settled over me like a heavy blanket.

Just feel.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself consider it.

—

The day passed in a blur.

The crew headed to the beach, but I stuck to my routine. I went for a run along the shoreline, my feet pounding against the wet sand, my lungs burning with exertion. It was the only way I knew how to clear my mind.

By the time I got home, the house was quiet. Everyone had already left for dinner.

I showered, letting the warm water soothe my sore muscles, and wrapped myself in a towel as I rummaged through my suitcase for something to wear.

Then, a soft knock.

I turned just as the door cracked open, revealing Stefani.

She leaned against the frame, watching me. "You're not ready yet?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "I just got back."

She hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Come to dinner with me. Just us."

My heart stuttered.

Alone.

I met her gaze, searching for something in her expression. She looked... calm. Maybe even hopeful.

I nodded. "Okay."

—

The restaurant I took her to was small and tucked away, a dimly lit place with rustic wooden tables and a band playing soft bolero music in the corner.

It was intimate, the kind of place I would have taken someone I loved once upon a time.

Stefani sipped her wine, her eyes lingering on me over the rim of the glass. "You seem different here," she murmured.

I twirled my fork against my plate, staring down at my food. "This is my home."

She nodded. "It suits you."

A warm silence settled between us.

Then, before I could think better of it, I said, "I isolate myself because it's easier."

She set down her glass, her full attention now on me. "Easier than what?"

I inhaled sharply. "Easier than feeling like I don't deserve to be here."

She furrowed her brows, her head tilting slightly. "Lena—"

"My ex died because of me," I interrupted, my voice flat, factual. "I was driving with her. We fought. She got distracted. The car crashed. I walked away, and she didn't."

Stefani didn't look shocked—she already knew the broad strokes from my tía. But hearing me say it out loud... it settled between us like a weight.

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against mine. "It wasn't your fault."

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it because I have to," she said softly. "I'm saying it because it's true."

I stared down at our hands, hers so much smaller than mine, yet somehow they held me steady.

The band in the corner started playing something softer, slower.

Stefani squeezed my fingers. "Dance with me."

I hesitated.

She smiled, just a little. "Just feel."

I swallowed thickly.

Then, without another word, I stood, leading her onto the small wooden floor where a few other couples swayed gently to the music.

I pulled her close, our bodies barely touching, her arms slipping around my waist.

She rested her head against my chest, and I let my chin rest against the top of her hair.

We moved slowly, gently, as if the world had shrunk down to just this moment.

Then, she tilted her head back.

Her eyes met mine, and my heart clenched.

She was so close.

No one was looking.

No one knew this was Lady Gaga.

And maybe, for once, I didn't have to care.

I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against hers.

Stefani let out a small, shuddering breath, then melted into me, kissing me back with the kind of tenderness that made my chest ache.

It wasn't rushed.

It wasn't desperate.

It was intimate.

And for the first time in a long time...

I just felt.

The walk back to my tía's house was quiet. Not in an awkward way, but in the way that happens when two people don't want to break the spell of a perfect night.

Stefani's fingers brushed against mine as we walked, the touch light and uncertain. I exhaled, then took her hand fully, intertwining our fingers. She squeezed back.

By the time we reached the house, the windows were dark. Everyone was already asleep.

We stepped inside, moving in hushed silence through the small corridors, our only light coming from the moon filtering through the windows.

When we entered our shared room, Stefani turned to face me.

Neither of us spoke.

The space between us felt thick with something unsaid—something heavy and inevitable.

I reached up first, brushing my fingers against the side of her face, tucking a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear.

Stefani sighed into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

Then, when she looked up at me again, I leaned in.

This time, there was no hesitation.

Our lips met in a slow, languid kiss. It wasn't rushed like before—it was deeper, softer. A silent confession between us.

I backed toward the bed, bringing her with me. My hands found her waist, my thumbs grazing the warm skin beneath her shirt. She shivered, but didn't pull away.

Instead, she reached for the hem of my top, tugging it over my head.

I exhaled sharply.

For a moment, we just stood there, eyes searching, breaths mingling.

Then, Stefani whispered, "Come here."

I did.