Chapter 2

The Uber ride home was a blur of Ivory’s commentary and Julia’s exhaustion. Malia sat in the backseat, phone clutched in both hands, screen brightness turned low so her mother wouldn’t notice how she kept checking it. Checking for what, she wasn’t sure. Kylie had her number. Kylie had said she would text. But hours had passed—actual hours, filled with a silent dinner at the apartment where Julia had picked at her salad, and Ivory had dominated the conversation with dance team drama—and still, nothing.

Malia told herself this was fine. Expected, even. They’d met in a lobby. They’d bumped into each other. Kylie was probably busy. Kylie probably had plans. Kylie was probably the kind of person who said things like “text me” to everyone, who collected phone numbers like spare change, who—

Kylie: hey malia
its kylie from the lobby
the one who almost killed you with my body
that sounded weird
im leaving it

Malia’s heart stopped. Actually stopped, she was fairly certain, because she stopped breathing and her vision went spotty and she had to press her hand against her chest to remind herself that she was, in fact, still alive.

“Malia?” Julia called from the kitchen, where she was loading the dishwasher with the mechanical precision of someone who had done this ten thousand times. “You okay? You went quiet.”

“Fine,” Malia managed, voice strangled. “Just—Momo texted.”

“Tell her I say hi.”

Malia didn’t respond. She was already typing, thumbs moving with a speed that surprised her.

Malia: hi
from the lobby
the one who almost died
that also sounded weird
im also leaving it

She stared at the screen, mortified, wondering if she could unsend, if she could throw her phone out the window, if she could move to another country and change her name.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Kylie: fuck
youre funny
i already told you that but its still true
what are you doing right now

Malia glanced around her bedroom—fairy lights casting soft pink shadows, weighted blanket half-falling off her bed, copy of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo facedown on her nightstand where she’d abandoned it three days ago.

Malia: lying in bed
pretending to be asleep so my mom doesnt ask questions

Kylie: same
well not the mom part
my dad thinks im asleep
he doesnt know im lying in the dark grinning at my phone like an idiot

Malia pressed her face into her pillow to muffle the sound she made—a laugh, a gasp, something embarrassing and involuntary.

Malia: youre grinning?

Kylie: malia i havent stopped grinning since you kissed my cheek
which was
fuck
that was the best thing thats happened to me in months

Malia read the message three times. Four. She got out of bed and walked to her window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, looking out at the Los Angeles skyline glittering in the distance. Somewhere out there, Kylie was doing the same thing. Grinning at her phone. Thinking about a kiss that had lasted less than a second.

Malia: it was just a cheek

Kylie: it was YOUR cheek
against MY face
thats different
thats everything

Malia’s hands were shaking again. She sat down hard on her window seat, knees drawn up, phone resting on her thighs.

Malia: youre intense

Kylie: is that bad
i can be less intense
i can be casual
hey malia sup wanna grab a coffee sometime no pressure haha just friends lol
see? casual

Malia: that was painful to read

Kylie: i know
im not casual
i dont want to be casual with you

Malia stared at the screen until her eyes burned. She thought of Momo, who would be screaming right now. Josh, who would be making dramatic gestures. Morgan, who would be saying *slow down, Malia, you just met her*. Dara, who would ask if Malia had eaten. Freya, who would be invested despite being at rehearsal. MK, who would somehow make this about his crush on Ivory.

And Ivory, who had already seen too much.

Malia: i dont want casual either
but i should tell you
im a lot
i have anxiety
bad anxiety
i have panic attacks
i overthink everything
im quiet
too quiet
my friends have to drag me out of my house sometimes
im not
im not like you

She sent it before she could stop herself. Before she could delete it, rewrite it, make it prettier and less vulnerable. She sent it and immediately wanted to die.

The three dots appeared instantly.

Kylie: hey malia
look at me
well look at your phone
but pretend im there
im not like me either
not really
everyone thinks im this confident cool girl
and i am sometimes
but im also
fuck
i failed a class last semester
i havent told my dad
i dont know what im doing with my life
i say i hate business but i dont know what else to do
i skate because when im moving i dont have to think
and i swear because when i talk i dont know what to say unless its loud
and every girl wants me but none of them know me
they want the idea
they dont want the person who lies awake at 3am wondering if shes worth anything

Malia’s throat tightened. She read the message again, slowly, letting each confession settle into her chest like stones dropped in still water.

Malia: youre worth something

Kylie: So are you
malia
can i call you??
i want to hear your voice

Malia’s thumb hovered over the screen. A call meant talking. Meant her voice shaking, meant awkward pauses, meant Kylie hearing how small she sounded, how uncertain, how anxious.

But it also meant Kylie’s voice. That low, raspy sound. That laugh. The way she said Malia’s name like it was something precious.

Malia: okay

The phone rang before she could change her mind. Malia answered, pressed it to her ear, and heard Kylie breathing—just breathing, close and intimate and real.

“Hi,” Kylie whispered.

“Hi,” Malia whispered back.

“Your voice,” Kylie said. “Fuck. It’s better than I remembered. Softer.”

“You remembered my voice?”

“I remember everything, Malia. The way you looked up at me after we collided. The way your hands shook. The way you smelled like—” Kylie paused, and Malia heard her shifting, probably in bed, probably in the dark like she was. “—like lavender and something else. Something warm. I don’t know. I wanted to bury my face in your neck and figure it out.”

Malia made a sound. She didn’t mean to. It just escaped, small and overwhelmed, and she heard Kylie inhale sharply on the other end.

“Sorry,” Kylie said, though she didn’t sound sorry. “Too intense?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Malia turned off her fairy lights, plunging her room into darkness. It was easier to talk in the dark. Easier to be brave. “I keep thinking you’ll disappear. That this is—” she gestured vaguely, even though Kylie couldn’t see it, “—a weird dream. That I’ll wake up and still be waiting in that lobby, bored and anxious and invisible.”

“I’m not disappearing,” Kylie said, fierce and sudden. “Malia, I’m not. I know we just met. I know this is crazy. But I can’t stop—” she broke off, frustrated. “I can’t stop touching you. Even now. I’m lying here with my free hand on my chest, over my heart, and it’s beating so fucking fast, and I keep thinking about your hand in mine, your fingers, your—” another pause, another shift, “—your lips. On my cheek. I haven’t washed my face. I know that’s gross. I don’t care.”

Malia laughed, surprised, and it came out watery, close to tears. “That’s gross.”

“I know. I’m disgusting. A disgusting romantic.” Kylie was smiling; Malia could hear it in her voice. “Shar keeps texting me. She wants details. Kiara too—she’s new to our group, she thinks this is like a movie. Malachi sent me seven eye-roll emojis. Xo said she’s proud of me. Ruby said I better not fuck it up.”

“Your friends know?”

“Everyone knows, Malia. I walked back to my dad like I was floating. Shar said I looked ‘scary happy.’ That’s her way of saying I looked like I was about to do something stupid.”

“Are you?”

“About to do something stupid?” Kylie laughed, low and warm. “Probably. I want to see you again. Tomorrow. The day after. Every day. I want to take you skating, even though you’ll probably break your neck. I want to take you to this diner I know, the one with the milkshakes that are basically heart attacks in a glass. I want—” she stopped, and when she spoke again her voice was smaller, stripped of its swagger. “I want to know you. The quiet parts and the anxious parts and the parts you think are too much. I want all of it.”

Malia was crying. She hadn’t realized until she felt the tears on her cheeks, hot and silent. She wiped them away, grateful for the darkness, grateful Kylie couldn’t see.

“You’re going to make me fall in love with you,” Malia whispered. “And I’m terrified.”

“Then we’ll be terrified together,” Kylie whispered back. “Because Malia? I think I’m already falling.”

They stayed on the phone. The hours blurred—1 AM, 2 AM, 3 AM. They talked about everything and nothing. Kylie told her about Shar, about growing up next door to her, about the time they’d stolen a shopping cart at fourteen and ended up in a drainage ditch. About Kiara, new and bright and eager, who had transferred to UCLA mid-year and latched onto Kylie like a sunflower. About Malachi, beautiful and aware of it, who treated every girl like a conquest and every guy like competition. About Xo, her “best mate,” who had moved from London sophomore year and never lost the accent. About Ruby, steady and reliable, who had seen Kylie through her first heartbreak in seventh grade and never let her forget it.

Malia told her about Momo, her best friend since birth, who knew her before she had words and loved her even when she couldn’t speak. About Josh, her gay best friend, who had come out to her first and cried in her arms in the seventh-grade bathroom. About Morgan, protective and fierce, who had once threatened a boy who made Malia cry. About Dara, the mother of the group, who always had snacks and band-aids and unsolicited advice. About Freya, the youngest, who was somehow both chaotic and wise. About MK, who had been in love with Ivory since they were twelve and was somehow still waiting. About Ivory herself, annoying and perfect. About Julia, working herself to the bone, still single, still hoping.

“I want to meet them,” Kylie said, somewhere around 3:30. “Your people. They sound like my people, except mine are louder and more obnoxious.”

“They are loud,” Malia agreed. She was curled on her side now, phone pressed to her ear, pillow wet with tears she kept shedding without meaning to. “Momo’s the loudest. She’ll interrogate you.”

“Let her. I’ll answer everything.” Kylie yawned, audible and unguarded. “Shit. I’m tired. But I don’t want to hang up.”

“Me neither.”

“Can we—” Kylie hesitated. “Can we just stay like this? I’ll put the phone on my pillow. You do the same. We’ll sleep. Together. Sort of.”

Malia’s chest ached with something too big to name. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Another yawn. “Malia?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not too much. You’re exactly enough. Remember that.”

Malia closed her eyes. She could hear Kylie breathing, slow and steady, could imagine her in the dark somewhere across the city, mullet tousled on a pillow, silver eyebrow ring catching moonlight.

“Kylie?”

A pause. Then, sleepy: “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For not disappearing.”

“Never,” Kylie mumbled, already half-asleep. “I’m right here, Malia. I’m not going anywhere.”

Malia listened to her breathe until her own eyes grew heavy, until the city outside her window faded to gray, until she drifted off with the phone still pressed to her ear and a stranger’s heartbeat singing her to sleep.

—

She woke to sunlight and Ivory banging on her door.

“Malia! Mom’s making pancakes and you’re going to miss them and also your phone is dead which means you either talked all night or you’re secretly a vampire who drains electronics, so which is it?”

Malia blinked, disoriented. Her phone was indeed dead, cord tangled around her wrist where she’d apparently fallen asleep holding it. She fumbled for her charger, plugged it in, waited the agonizing thirty seconds for enough battery to turn on.

One text. Sent at 5:47 AM.

Kylie: morning malia
i woke up and you were still breathing in my ear
i didnt hang up
i listened to you sleep for an hour
is that creepy??
thats creepy
im creepy
but i liked it
i liked knowing you were there
text me when you wake up
please…
i miss you already
which is insane
we just met
but i do
i miss you…

Malia read the messages twice. Three times. She pressed her hand to her mouth and felt herself grinning, grinning so hard her face hurt, grinning like Kylie had grinned in that lobby twelve hours ago.

Malia: i miss you too
which is also insane
but i do
i really do

The response was immediate.

Kylie: fuck
there she is
my favorite person
already
my favorite person already

Malia stared at the screen until Ivory banged on her door again, until Julia called that the pancakes were getting cold, until the morning sun filled her room with gold.

She was someone’s favorite person.

Already.

And she hadn’t even had to come out of her shell. She’d just bumped into someone, in a lobby, on an ordinary Tuesday, and everything had changed.

—