I waited until the sound of the door closing fades completely before I let myself breathe again. It feels wrong to inhale while she is still near, like the air belongs to her and not to me.
The restaurant carries on as if nothing has changed. Plates scrape against porcelain. Someone laughs too loudly from a nearby table. A waiter passes by with the smell of coffee and warm bread trailing behind him. Life continues in small ordinary ways, but I feel separated from it, like I am watching everything through glass.
My chest feels painfully empty. Alma walked out and somehow took the oxygen with her. I keep staring at the space where she stood, half expecting her to turn around, to come back, to tell me we imagined it.
But she does not come back.
My hands curl into fists at my sides because I do not know what else to do with them. They still remember the warmth of her shoulders. My lips still remember hers. It was only a moment. One impossible, reckless moment that was never meant to exist. And yet it lingers, heavy and undeniable, like a secret pressed between my ribs.
My throat burns as if I swallowed something sharp. I blink quickly, willing my eyes not to betray me here, not in public, not where anyone can see that I am unraveling over a girl who just walked away.
I tell myself to move. To go after her. To say something honest for once instead of hiding behind silence and careful distance. Every part of me screams to run after her name, to catch her before she disappears into the streets.
But my feet stay rooted to the floor.
Fear holds me still. Pride too. And maybe the quiet realization that I have already crossed a line I cannot uncross but we already did a while back. This is not how I picture her… us in my mind.
I stand there, pretending I am fine. Pretending my heart is not racing like it is trying to escape my chest. Pretending that kiss did not change everything.
Because the truth is unbearable.
I want to follow her.
I want to go kick Hector's butt for that.
I want to tell her that I did not mean for it to happen and that I meant every second of it at the same time.
I almost do.
I feel a strange poke against my hand, sharp and annoying, like someone pressing me back into the real world. My thoughts scatter, and the haze breaks, oh! it's just a waiter, telling me to move aside because I'm blocking the entrance. How annoying.
I blink, startled, and turn. The room feels heavy with eyes. Everyone is looking. Heat crawls up my neck, and I force a weak smile that doesn't last. Before the silence grows too thick, I step away. Out of the doorway, out of their gaze, leaving behind the weight of stares and the risk of a scene.
I make my way to the car, my chest tight until I finally sink into the driver's seat. A sigh escapes me, shaky, like I'm trying to convince myself the chaos was nothing more than a bad dream. But reality doesn't wait. My phone lights up, oh no. Lucas' science project. I promised him I'd be there, promised I'd stand by him. Now Mom is flooding my screen with calls.
I start the engine, push the pedal hard, eighty miles per hour feels like survival. If I miss this, both Lucas and Mom will freeze me out. Dad might forgive me, but I can't afford to lose my brother's trust. Another call. I grab the phone, steering like an ambulance driver.
"Hey, Mom!"
Her voice is sharp, frantic. "¿Qué te pasa? Where are you? The program is starting in the next minute."
"I'm almost there," I say, forcing calm.
From the background, Lucas cuts in, his words like a punch: "Don't mess this up, caveman!" The line goes dead.
I hit the main street… curse. Traffic. My shortcut betrayed me. I slam the brakes behind a line of cars, mind racing for escape routes. My eyes flick to the traffic lights, then drift left—to the shops. And there she is. Alma. Alone, sipping wine, like she's been waiting.
I unbuckle, step out, approach her with a low voice. "Buenas, Alma."
Her stare pins me, sharp yet soft, like recognition. For a second I imagine my face shaped into the burgundy Birkin bag Daniel swore she adored. Then she rises, arms wrapping me in a hug so tight it steals my breath. Should I hug back? My arms decide for me, pressing her close. This is the moment I've been waiting for.
She steps back, eyes locked on mine. "Thanks for today. I owe you a lot."
"Maybe another hug?" I mumble.
"¿Qué?" Alma tilts her head, uncertain.
"I mean… come with me. My brother's school. Science presentation. I'm late." I glance at my watch.
Her answer is instant. Yes.
We finally reach Colegio San Esteban de Granada, the car slowing to a stop like it's exhaling with me.
"Next time warn me before driving like a thief," she mutters. I glance at her—her mascara wiped clean, her hair curled into soft waves. She steps out, already walking toward the entrance.
"Are you leaving me?" I call, jogging after her.
"Well, you're busy staring, and you said we were late." Her words sting, but the smirk on my face betrays me.
Inside the presentation room, Lucas spots us. His eyes widen, then he runs straight to Alma, wrapping her in a hug.
"I thought I was the brother," I say, half-joking, half-jealous. Alma only smiles, holding him close like they've known each other forever.
I drift toward Mom. She taps my shoulder, playful. "So I see the reason you're late."
"Mother, stop."
Her eyes narrow, then soften. "Wait… is that Alma?"
"Yeah. Alma Cruz. Daniel's ride or die," I answer, scanning the other projects.
Alma and Lucas walk over. Alma stretches out her hand to greet Mom, but Mom pulls her into a hug instead, like a reunion long overdue.
"Alma, baby?" Mom whispers.
"Mother?" Lucas and I echo in disbelief. She ignores us, touching Alma's face, her hair, her smile. Alma doesn't mind; she leans into it.
"I'm Isabel. Gael's mom. How is Marisol? It's been so long."
"She's fine. She even asked about you once," Alma replies warmly.
Mom's smile deepens, her gaze drifting upward. "You're grown now. Your mother's height. You look exactly like her back in college. How are Mateo and Mila?"
I freeze. How does Mom know all this? Alma doesn't flinch. They talk and talk, their voices weaving together until it's Lucas' turn to present.
Lucas leans close, whispering with a grin, "I guess you found your perfect match." He winks.
He presents with confidence, earning third place. He got a bronze medal and a certificate. Pride shines in his eyes.
Later, we head to a diner to celebrate. Alma and Mom sit side by side, still talking, still laughing, as if no time had ever passed between them.