Kiss & Tell ( Asa and Chiquita)

Chapter 21: Morning and Hugs

Asa's POV

It feels surreal, almost too simple, to be here with Chiquita, tangled in the sheets, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. There's a quiet hum in the air — the kind that only comes after you've crossed a threshold you never expected to approach, let alone step over.

Last night was everything I didn't know I needed. And this morning... this morning feels like a new beginning.

We've both been quiet for a few moments, the weight of the words "I love you" still hanging between us. Not uncomfortable, but still new, like we're both letting them settle in, allowing them to make sense of all the chaos and uncertainty that's come before.

Chiquita stirs beside me, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on my arm. I glance over at her, catching her watching me with a softness I haven't seen before. It's almost as if she's waiting for something — something I'm not sure I'm ready to say or do, but she doesn't push. She never does.

I reach for her hand, clasping it in mine. The movement feels natural, a comfort. "You know," I begin slowly, trying to gather my thoughts, "I've never really known what it feels like to be... open. Vulnerable." My voice falters slightly, but I press on, looking into her eyes. "It's always been easier to hide behind walls. To keep everything neat and controlled."

Chiquita's smile is small but knowing. "I know," she whispers, "I've seen it. And I've waited for you to let go."

I inhale deeply, the weight of her words pulling something tight in my chest. I've known she's been patient, waiting for me to come to terms with what's blooming between us. But hearing her say it — hearing her acknowledge it — makes me feel like I'm standing at the edge of a precipice, looking down into a world I never thought I'd fall into.

"I'm scared, Chiquita," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of losing control... scared of losing myself in this."

She shifts closer, her hand gently cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing across my skin with such tenderness that it almost makes the fear slip away. Almost.

"You won't lose yourself," she says softly, her eyes warm with a depth that speaks volumes. "You'll just find a different part of yourself. A part that doesn't need to control everything. A part that can just be."

I let her words sink in, closing my eyes for a moment. "I don't know how to do that, Chiquita. How to just be."

"I'll show you," she says simply, her voice a steady anchor. "I'll help you. You don't have to do it alone. We can take this slow, Asa. One step at a time."

And that's the beauty of Chiquita — she never asks for too much. She doesn't need me to be perfect. She doesn't expect me to have it all figured out. She's patient, kind in a way I never thought I deserved, and yet she's here, with me, showing me how to trust.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to push the tightness in my chest away, but the truth is, I don't want to run anymore. I don't want to hide.

"I'm ready," I say, my voice a little unsteady, but honest. "I'm ready to trust you. To trust us."

Chiquita leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine, her breath warm and steady. "You already do," she whispers, her lips brushing mine in a soft, lingering kiss that feels like the promise of something bigger than either of us.

Chiquita's POV

The words Asa just spoke — they feel like everything. She's been holding back for so long, hiding behind her walls, but tonight, I can feel her opening up to me in a way I never expected. It's not perfect, and it won't always be easy, but there's a rawness in the way she's allowing herself to be vulnerable with me that is more than I could have hoped for.

I pull away slightly, just enough to look at her properly, my thumb grazing her jawline. Her eyes are still wide, still unsure in a way that makes her even more beautiful.

"You're doing so well, Asa," I murmur. "Just by being here. Just by being with me. That's all I need."

A small smile tugs at her lips, a faint trace of disbelief in her expression. "You really mean that?"

"I do," I say firmly, squeezing her hand. "You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be real."

Her gaze softens, and for a brief moment, she looks almost fragile — but it's a vulnerability that feels like a promise. She doesn't have to be strong all the time. She doesn't have to hold everything together on her own.

And maybe, I can be the person who helps her see that.

Asa's POV

I'm still adjusting to the idea of letting go. I've spent so many years keeping myself tightly wound, so afraid that any weakness would be my undoing. But with Chiquita, I'm starting to understand that strength doesn't come from control. It comes from the willingness to trust, to let the current carry you when you no longer know the way.

I let my hand slip down to hers, feeling the pulse of her fingers as they entwine with mine. There's no rush, no need to put a label on anything. We're here, and that's enough.

"I don't know how this works," I say quietly, still unsure of myself, "But I'm willing to try. With you."

Chiquita gives me one of those soft smiles — the kind that makes my heart flutter despite myself. "I know," she replies, her voice gentle, full of warmth. "And that's all I could ever ask for."

I don't have all the answers. I don't even know what tomorrow holds. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Chiquita's POV

The moment lingers between us, a quiet space where everything feels possible. Asa's finally letting herself breathe, and I can feel it — that shift in her, the moment she lets herself accept that this, whatever this is between us, is real.

I reach over, brushing her cheek lightly with my fingers, unable to resist the pull. "Can we take today slow?" I ask, my voice low and playful. "Maybe explore a little... together?"

Her lips curl into a hesitant smile. "I think I'd like that," she replies.

I smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood my chest. This is uncharted territory for both of us. But together, we'll navigate it. Step by step. One day at a time.

Asa turns toward me, her hand gently resting on my waist as she draws closer. "You make me want to be better," she says quietly, her voice soft but steady.

The words settle in me, a profound weight I never expected. "You already are better, Asa," I reply, my thumb grazing her wrist, my heart full of something I can't quite name. "And you're exactly who you're supposed to be."

And just like that, I know we're both exactly where we need to be.

Together.