BEAUTIFUL MESS [Book 2] | MIKHAIAH

18

From that night on, something changed. Devotion to our studies continued unchecked, but in the privacy of our apartment, the differences were tremendous. What had always been a household that once thrived on clashes of personality delivered with undertones of affection, had muted into affection delivered with undertones of understanding. It wasn't the placating, over-considerate interaction of the last few months, it was comfortable and natural. It felt like home.

She understood that I thrived on carbs and no longer mothered me about it. Nor did she comment on my renewed running regime that was the result of the tightening of my clothes. In return, I stopped teasing her about her green food diet and occasionally found myself picking up items from Whole Foods without prompting because I knew she liked them. We were making this friends thing work because now we both had romantic hope for the future.

Unconsciously, we began to align our study schedules, prompted in part by an elective we had in common, and our capacity to blend our learning techniques. She needed to read and write thousands of notes and discuss everything, and I had the ability to retain information like a mop holding water coupled with a gut instinct that honed itself each passing day.

In the lead-up to Christmas, we were spending every Tuesday and Saturday night spread out in the living room working on cases and yards of text. Steph and Sam often joined us, and I could tell Steph enjoyed watching the way Amaia and I interacted.

Every time my hand brushed Amaia's, we'd both pause and take a breath. Every time our eyes caught and held, I felt my heart skip frantically in my chest. We maintained distance, despite the obvious desire I'm sure Amaia could see in my eyes. It was like we were circling each other, waiting for a sign when we could embrace and finally start the next chapter of our lives.

"Kissed her yet?" Steph asked me one Tuesday night week before Christmas break.

I glanced over to the kitchen where Sam and Amaia were preparing snacks. "Shh..." I said. "She'll hear you."

Steph smirked at me. "So?"

I groaned and went back to my notes on the lymphatic system.

"You two look like hungry sharks ready to devour each other."

I ignored her.

Steph chuckled to herself.

Amaia and Sam walked back to the living room and put down a plate of cheeses, deli meats, and crackers.

"Thanks," I said to them, reaching out to pick up a piece of cheese. Amaia went for the same slice, and I went bright red as my hand brushed hers again. "Oh. Sorry."

Amaia smiled at me.

Steph kept chuckling.

"Shut up," I whispered under my breath to her.

I looked up to see a curious expression on Amaia's face. "Umm...so...the lymphatic system. What can you tell me about thymic autoimmune disorders?"

Our study night continued without any further comments from Steph and my relationship with Amaia, however, once Steph and Sam left, Amaia cornered me unexpectedly.

"I hope you feel no pressure to kiss me," she said as she walked into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth.

I nearly shoved my toothbrush down my throat. Coughing, I rinsed my mouth and said, "Pardon?"

"Steph isn't very subtle, and this apartment isn't very big."

"I...uh..." I felt myself blush again. "You want me to kiss you?"