12

Mariah's POV

I hadn't answered any of her texts.

Not after she kissed someone else. Not after she let me walk away.

I told myself I wouldn't fold. That I wouldn't go soft just because she realized she missed me too late. But when she sent me a voice note—quiet, serious, shaken—my resolve cracked.

"Please... I need to see you. Just once. There's a park a few blocks from campus. 7 o'clock. If you don't come, I'll understand. But I hope you do."

So now I was here.

Standing beneath the soft glow of a street lamp in Lincoln Park, heart racing like she hadn't absolutely  humiliated me 48 hours ago.

She hadn't arrived yet. But when she did, i knew id feel her before i saw her.

And I did. The moment her car door closed, something in my chest stuttered.

She walked toward me slowly—no heels this time. Just sneakers, jeans, a soft grey sweater, and her hands full.

A bouquet of pale purple tulips.A takeout bag.A small box.

And eyes that looked like they hadn't slept either.

"Hi," she said gently.

I didn't speak.

She stepped closer and held the flowers out.

"I don't know your favorite, so I picked out what felt like you. Soft, but bold."

I took them, reluctantly.

She handed me the bag next. "Your favorite empanadas. From that Dominican spot by the dorms. Still hot."

I blinked. "You remembered that?"

"I remember everything," she said, voice low. "Even the things I pretend to forget."

Then she gave me the box. Small, black, with a silver ribbon.Inside was a delicate gold bracelet. Thin. Elegant. A tiny charm on it read: Not a mistake.

My throat closed.

"Im sorry," she said. "What I did... was selfish. I was scared, and I acted like a coward. You didn't deserve that."

I stayed quiet.

"I've built my whole life on control," she continued. "On power. On making sure no one ever saw me fall apart. But you—" she paused, voice cracking, "you make me feel everything I've locked away for years. You make me want."

She stepped closer.

"You asked me once if I even liked you," she said. The truth is, I don't just like you. I dream about you. I crave you. I miss you when you're five minutes late to class. I light up when I hear your voice. I want you in ways I'm scared to even say out loud."

My lips parted, but I didn't know what to say.

She reached up slowly, brushing a curl behind my ear. "I know I broke your trust. And im not asking you to forgive me right now. But I'll keep showing up until you know—deep down—that you were never just a mistake I made in the dark. You're the only thing that's felt real in years."

I was crying.

God, I hated that I was crying.

But I didn't move when she cupped my face.

And when her forehead leaned against mine, I didn't stop her.

"You hurt me," I whispered.

"I know," she breathed.

"I don't know if I trust you."

"I'll earn it."

I know I'm supposed to be mad at her right now, but that just made my panties wet.

"You better."

She smiled. Small. Soft. The kind that made my knees weak.

"Can I kiss you?" She asked, so quiet I barely heard it.

I didn't answer with words.

I leaned in, lips trembling against hers, and this time—

It didn't feel stolen.

It felt like home.____________

The empanadas were gone. The tulips were in a vase I never used. The bracelet hadn't left my wrist.

And Kamala was sitting on my couch.

Shoes off. Hair tied up. legs crossed like she didn't just throw my entire emotional stability into a blender two days ago.

But tonight—tonight she was quiet. Soft. Her edges dulled by guilt and want and everything she wasn't ready to say out loud until now.

"Your place is nice," she said, glancing around."You're neater than I expected."

"Im only neat when I'm trying to impress someone."

She smirked. "Is that what this is?"

"Depends," I said, curling my feet under me. "Are you impressed?"

Her eyes dropped to my mouth.

"Completely."

Silence wrapped around us, thick and electric. The only light in the room came from the kitchen under glow and a scented candle on my coffee table—vanilla and something warm, like amber.

"You don't have to stay," i said. "If you're still unsure. Or scared."

She looked at me, serious now.

"Im not leaving."

I swallowed hard. "So then... why are you still all the way over there?"

Kamala didn't answer with words. She stood up, walked over, and sat beside me—close, closer, until her thigh pressed against mine and I could feel the heat from her skin through both our clothes.

She reached for my hand

Slow.

Careful.

Like she was still afraid I might pull away.

"I've thought about this," she whispered, her fingers brushing my  wrist. "About how your skin would feel. And how you'd sound if I touched you right."

My breath caught.

"Have you now?"

She nodded, leaning in.

"But I want you to want it too," she said, her lips just inches from mine. "Tell me."

"I want it," I whispered and just like that—

She kissed me.

And this time, it was slow.

Not urgent. Not messy.

Just... real.

She kissed me like she was trying to memorize me. Like she was apologizing with every gentle press of her mouth. Like she was scared I'd disappear if she didn't take her time.

Her hand cradled the back of my neck. Her thumb stroked my cheek. And when I pulled her closer—straddling her lap, arms wrapped around her shoulders—she let out the softest, deepest sigh against my lips.

"Mariah,"she murmured, like it was a prayer. "Tell me to stop if you're not ready."

I kissed her harder.

"I've been ready."

Her hands slipped beneath my shirt, and when her fingers slid along my spine, I couldn't help the gasp that slipped from throat.

"So beautiful," she whispered."So are you," I told her."You think so?""I know so."

And then her lips were on mine again, and I lost track of what was up or down, what was past or present or present or future, and all that mattered was her. We were kissing, and she was touching me, and it was perfect.She kissed a line from the corner of my mouth, along my jaw, down my neck.

"Oh, god," I breathed, eyes fluttering closed as she sucked on my skin.

I arched toward her, desperate for more contact, and her hands slipped around my waist and tugged me closer. She nipped at my throat, and I moaned.

"You're so gorgeous, baby."

I shivered.

"Touch me," I begged.

Her fingertips trailed along my rib cage, over my stomach, tracing the outline of my hipbones, and when they reached the top of my thighs, i spread my legs.

She chuckled, the sound dark and rich and deep."I see you've done this before," she said."With women, yes," I gasped, "but never with anyone I've..."

She hummed against my throat."Never with anyone you've cared about."

I swallowed."Yes."

She slid her hand between my legs.

"Let me take care of you."

I moaned as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my underwear and between my folds."God, you're so wet," she murmured, and then her mouth was back on mine, tongue pushing into my mouth as rubbed circles around my clit.

I whimpered.

"Please," I begged. "Don't tease me. I can't handle it."

She pressed a finger inside me."Fuck," I cried, clutching at her shoulders. "More. More, please."

"You're so tight," she said. "Are you sure?"

"Im sure just... give me a minute."

She kissed my cheek

"Im here."She waited until I relaxed, until I pushed down against her, before she added a second finger.

"So fucking perfect," she whispered, pumping her fingers in and out of me.

"Harder," I moaned."Are you sure?"

I nodded frantically."Please."

She thrust deeper. Faster. Harder.

"Oh, god," i gasped, rocking against her hand."More. Fuck, I need more."

She curled her fingers inside me.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes!" I cried. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck, please."

Her thumb found my clit.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes," I sobbed. "Right there. Right fucking there."

She rubbed harder, and the pressure built until it exploded, and I came screaming her name.

"Kamala!"

She held me as the tremors faded. Kissed me softly. Told me how beautiful I was. How good I felt. How much she wanted to watch me come undone.

I just begged her to keep going.Because if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that I never wanted this moment to end.

And when it was over—when we were tangled in my sheets, bare and quiet, limbs wrapped tight—I rested my head on her chest and whispered:

"Promise me this isn't just some moment you'll just regret."

She looked down at me, brushing my curls back with the gentlest fingers.

"I don't regret you," she said. "Not even a little bit."_________

Mwah. 💋