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It had started with Eva.
More precisely, with Ines casually suggesting they maybe should come to the Christmas party. Just to “end the drama,” she said. That was the story Ines told. One that sounded noble enough to get nods without too many questions. Like Ines hadn’t thought about that fight at least once a day since it happened.
But the truth?
It had nothing to do with closure.
What she didn’t say—what she’d never say—was that she’d been thinking about her. Vanessa. Since that day.
That ridiculous fight outside the school, when voices were raised and hair was pulled, and Vanessa freaking sprayed her with deodorant. Like Ines was some kind of bug to be repelled.
Everyone laughed. Ines hadn’t.
That was the worst part—not the spraying, not even the fight. But the way Vanessa had looked at her afterward. Not scared. Not smug. Just disappointed. Like she’d expected better.
And still.
Still, Ines couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Not in the way she used to think about exes or flings or whatever. But in this weird, haunting way. Like something unfinished was vibrating just under her skin. Like if she could just talk to Vanessa again—really talk—she might find out what the hell was wrong with her.
Maybe that’s why she started watching Vanessa’s makeup reels again, even though she swore she’d unfollowed her. Vanessa’s hands were steady. Artistic. Her voice, in the rare times she spoke on video, low and soft. Ines would watch her swipe highlighter across her cheekbones and wonder what it would feel like if those fingers touched her skin.
She told Eva to invite them because she claimed to want peace.
But really?
She wanted proximity.
She kept telling herself this wasn’t a crush. It was just guilt. It was just curiosity. It was just a chance to say sorry. She wanted to stand across the room from Vanessa and see if she still felt it—that tangle of irritation, curiosity, and something shamefully close to wanting.
She wanted to say something. Anything.
Even if it started with: “Remember when you sprayed me like a raccoon in your trash can?”
Even if it ended with: “Can you do my eyeliner?”
Maybe asking her to do her makeup tonight was a way to fix things.
Or maybe it was just an excuse to sit still and let Vanessa touch her. Gently, this time.
It had never just been about the apology.
It was about whatever this was.
And Ines was done pretending she didn’t want to find out.