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The ocean moves at my feet, wetting me to the knee before moving away again. On the horizon, the sun is settling itself down, painting the sea orange.
My hand moves a bit on the sand, searching for Ginger’s fingers. When I touch her hand, a chill runs all through my body, making me blush.
I’m waiting for her to move her hand away, but she intertwines her fingers with mine instead.
It’s been a long time since the last time I felt this good. This free.
Back in London, the days were always grey, and the only thing I had to do was to play my part of damsel on distress. All my happiness faded away over the years. Just smile and be the pretty girl you always were.
In California, the sun is always bright, and life is lighter. Here, I don’t have to pretend nothing, I just limit myself to living. My heart feels like it’s been liberated of a heavy weight, and I even smile, so often that my cheeks hurt sometimes.
But I don’t care. In California, I can be happy. No more damsel in distress, just Agatha.
Sometimes it feels like a dream. Like if someday I am going to wake up, realizing nothing’s been real. That I have to go back to a world mired in a constant magical war, where everyone fights for see who’s the most powerful there.
Ginger moves closer to me, and our feet touch. The sea has calmed itself down and isn’t wetting my knees anymore.
I was so into my role, that I didn't even know who I really was. I still don’t, though, but I’ve realized a lot of things of myself.
Like that my hair looks better if I part it on the side. That I don't really like tea that much, and I rather drink iced coffee. That I maybe like girls more than boys. That maybe I don't like boys at all.
I’ve stopped thinking about what I should be, and I focus on what I want.
This is what I want. Holding hands with the girl that has become my best friend, while looking at the dusk in the ocean.
The fresh breeze ruffles my hair, but I don’t care. I let my head rest on Ginger’s shoulder, admiring the sun kissing her brownish skin.
I’m not sure about what does my heart feel. I like when we go out, to parties or to get dinner, staying until night in the beach, running in the sand and laughing. Deciding who’s going to clean our shared flat every week. Sometimes, I like to look at her, and the way her eyes brighten when she’s talking about the things she likes.
There are some nights we spend at our living, laying on the floor. She tells me about her childhood, but I don’t know what should say. When she tells me how much she used to play with her old friends, should I tell her I spent my days in a magical internship, learning spells and avoiding the death? When she talks about all the boys she’s dated, could I tell her I used to date the most powerful magician, the Chosen One, but I decided to run away from the dream life everyone planned for us; and that also, he found love with the vampire that used to be his mortal enemy? (sometimes, I can’t believe that happened.)
So I invent stories. Or I tell her about my Normal friends. I tell her about that boy I dated when I was 14, before Simon. I tell her he was the first person I’ve kissed, and how terrible it was, weirdly enough to not want to remember it. She laughs at me, saying that everyone’s first kiss is always terrible.
This is a whole mess. Because I don’t feel annoyed at the boys she’s been dating, I even help her to get her makeup ready.
I’m not in love with her. But, sometimes, I can’t stop thinking about how would be to kiss her, and run my hand through her dark curls. About looking into her eyes while catching our breaths again. But I never do. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. And I’m scared to discover more things about me if I do, I’m scared I could find answers I’m not ready to know yet if I kiss her.
We’re not talking this time, silence says enough. What is there to say about two friends holding hands?
Then, Ginger drops my hand, and I look at her surprised. I’m thinking she’s going to stand up and tell me she doesn’t think of me like that, even if I don’t know how I think of her.
But instead of reject me before I could say anything, her hand holds my chin, staring into my eyes.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
And then she kisses me. I close my eyes while her lips touch me softly. I run my hand through her hair, just like I imagined before. My heart races in my chest, because this is new.
And I realize she was very, very wrong. This is not a terrible first kiss.