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Kira had faced Oni, Berserkers, Dread Doctors, and more supernatural disasters than any young person should have been expected to survive.
Somehow, asking Malia Tate to be her girlfriend felt more terrifying than all of them combined.
It wasn’t as though they weren’t already together. At least, Kira thought they were together. They held hands when they walked through town. Malia slept in Kira’s bed more often than she slept in her own. They kissed whenever they felt like it, which, according to Stiles, was apparently far too often in shared spaces and Malia had once nearly bitten a boy at the movie theater because he had tried flirting with Kira while Malia was buying popcorn.
That had felt fairly official. But they had never actually said it. There had been no conversation, no clear decision, and no moment when either of them had looked at the other and agreed that this was a relationship. They had simply shifted from friends, to something more, to spending nearly every free moment pressed together on Kira’s couch. Kira wanted to ask. She just had no idea how.
“You’re pacing.”
Kira stopped so abruptly that one of her socks slid across the polished floor of the McCall kitchen. She grabbed the counter to keep herself upright, then turned toward Scott, who was leaning against the refrigerator with his arms folded.
“I’m not pacing.”
“You’ve walked around the island seventeen times.”
Kira blinked. “You counted?”
Scott shrugged. “Werewolf.”
“That isn’t an explanation for everything.”
“It explains a surprising amount.”
Kira groaned and dropped her forehead against the counter. Scott laughed softly, stepping closer and resting a hand between her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Kira said into the granite. “That’s the problem.”
Scott waited patiently. Kira lifted her head. “Malia and I haven’t made anything official.”
Scott’s brows lifted slightly. “You’re not official?”
“No.”
“I thought you were.”
“So did I. Sort of.” Kira rubbed her palms against the front of her skirt. “But we’ve never called each other girlfriends. We’ve never talked about being exclusive or what this means or where it’s going.”
Scott’s expression turned thoughtful. “Malia threatened to remove a guy’s hand because he touched your waist.”
“He surprised me.”
“She growled at the waitress who called you cute.”
“She probably thought the waitress was trying to steal my fries.”
“She sleeps with one of your shirts when you’re away.”
Kira’s face warmed. “She told you that?”
“No. I have eyes.”
Kira sighed. “That’s not the point.”
“I know.” Scott’s smile softened. “You want to hear her say it.”
Kira looked down at her hands. “I want to know that she chooses me. Not because I’m here or because I’m familiar or because we happened to start kissing one night after a pack meeting.”
“You know that isn’t how Malia works.”
“I know.” Kira hesitated. “I also know she doesn’t always understand why labels matter to people.”
Scott tilted his head. “Do they matter to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell her.”
Kira gave him a flat look. “Oh, is that all?”
“You’ve fought monsters with a sword.”
“Monsters don’t usually reject you and then continue attending the same weekly pack meetings.”
Scott’s mouth twitched. “Malia isn’t going to reject you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can hear her heartbeat whenever you walk into a room.”
Kira stared at him. Scott immediately looked uncomfortable. “That sounded less invasive in my head.”
“It really didn’t.”
“What I mean is, she’s happy when you’re around. Calmer. She looks for you before anyone else.” Scott squeezed her shoulder. “Just ask her.”
Kira inhaled slowly. “Okay.”
The back door opened. Malia walked inside carrying two grocery bags, her hair tangled from the wind and a faint smear of dirt across one cheek. She kicked the door shut behind her and placed the bags on the kitchen table.
“I bought snacks,” she announced.
Scott peered inside one of the bags. “You bought three bags of beef jerky, chocolate-covered pretzels, and six frozen pizzas.”
“Yes.”
“There isn’t a vegetable in here.”
“There are peppers on the pizzas.”
Scott opened his mouth, considered arguing, and then quietly removed a frozen pizza from the bag.
Malia turned toward Kira. Her entire face changed, some of the sharpness disappearing as she crossed the kitchen. She slipped one hand around Kira’s waist and kissed her without hesitation.
Kira melted into it for one wonderful second before remembering the conversation she needed to have. She pulled back.
Malia frowned immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You stopped kissing me.”
“I need to ask you something.”
Malia’s gaze moved sharply to Scott. Scott held up both hands. “I’m leaving.”
“You smell nervous,” Malia told Kira as Scott escaped from the kitchen with the frozen pizza tucked under his arm.
“I am nervous.”
“Why?”
Kira swallowed. Every carefully planned sentence vanished from her mind. She had rehearsed several versions on the drive over. They had all sounded mature, romantic, and perfectly clear. Now Malia was staring at her with bright eyes, still holding her waist, and Kira could barely remember her own name.
“What are we?” she blurted.
Malia glanced around the kitchen. “People?”
“No, I mean us.”
“Women?”
“Malia.”
“Supernatural?” Malia tried.
Kira stared at her.
“Part-coyote and kitsune?” Malia amended.
Kira closed her eyes briefly. “Are we dating?”
“Yes.”
The answer came so quickly that Kira opened her eyes again.
“We are?”
Malia’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know. Months ago.”
Kira stared at her, caught somewhere between relief and exasperation. “You never said anything.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t know I needed to ask.”
“You just asked.”
“That’s not—” Kira stopped herself, breathing out slowly. “Okay. Do you consider me your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
Malia sounded increasingly confused, as though Kira were asking whether the sky was still above them. Kira’s heart gave a painful little leap. “And you’re my girlfriend?”
“If you want me to be.”
“I do.”
“Then yes.”
Malia leaned forward to kiss her again, but Kira placed both hands against her shoulders. “Wait.”
Malia’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because relationships require communication.”
“We communicate.”
“You once showed up at my bedroom window covered in blood and said, ‘It’s not mine,’ then refused to explain anything else.”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“That wasn’t the concern.”
Malia considered that. “Oh.”
Kira tried not to smile. “I want to make sure we both want the same things.”
“I want you.”
The words were blunt and immediate. Kira’s breath caught. Malia studied her face, apparently trying to understand why that hadn’t settled the entire matter. “I want to be with you. I don’t want to date anyone else. I don’t want you dating anyone else either.”
“That’s usually called being exclusive.”
“Fine. I want exclusive.”
“And girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
Kira’s smile finally broke free. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“We’re officially girlfriends.”
Malia’s answering smile was small, but it was unmistakably pleased. “Good.”
She kissed Kira again, slower this time, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. Kira wrapped her arms around Malia’s shoulders, feeling the last of her anxiety dissolve.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway. Malia broke the kiss and snapped her head toward the doorway. “Scott.”
There was a brief pause.
“I’m upstairs,” Scott called.
“You’re behind the wall.”
Another pause.
“No?” he called weakly.
Malia rolled her eyes and looked back at Kira. “Can we go somewhere else?”
“We could.”
“Your house?”
“My parents are home.”
“Your bedroom has a door.”
Kira laughed. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what I meant.”
Before Kira could respond, Malia grabbed one of the grocery bags and started toward the back door. Kira watched her. “Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“With the snacks?”
“We’re having a date.”
Kira hurried after her. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Malia, you can’t just declare that we’re having a date.”
Malia glanced over her shoulder. “Why not?”
“Because dates usually involve planning.”
“I planned snacks.”
“You bought beef jerky and frozen pizza.”
“I also bought chocolate.”
Kira caught up with her on the porch. “That is slightly better.”
Malia’s expression became serious. “What else do girlfriends do?”
Kira paused. There was no mockery in the question. Malia was genuinely asking, not because she believed there was a list of rules she had to obey, but because this mattered to Kira and she wanted to understand it.
Kira reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.
“Whatever works for them,” she said. “There isn’t one right way.”
“Then we can eat jerky in the woods.”
“Yes.”
“And kiss.”
“Yes.”
“And you can tell people I’m your girlfriend.”
Kira squeezed her hand. “I was planning to.”
“Good.” Malia’s shoulders relaxed. “I want them to know.”
Something warm bloomed in Kira’s chest. She leaned closer, resting her head against Malia’s shoulder as they walked toward the trees behind Scott’s house.
“I was worried you wouldn’t understand why making it official mattered to me.”
“I still don’t completely understand,” Malia admitted. “Nothing feels different.”
Kira’s smile faltered slightly. Malia stopped walking and turned toward her. “I don’t mean that badly.”
“I know.”
“You were already the person I wanted.” Malia shifted the grocery bag into her other hand. “Before you asked. Before we used the word. You were already the person I looked for when I came into a room. You were already who I wanted beside me when I slept. I already chose you.”
Kira felt tears sting unexpectedly behind her eyes. Malia frowned. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m happy.”
“You cry when you’re happy?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s confusing.”
“Human emotions usually are.”
“You’re not human.”
“Okay, fine emotions are confusing.”
Malia stared at her for another moment, then carefully wiped beneath Kira’s eye with her thumb. “Does making it official mean you know I chose you now?”
Kira nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’m glad we did it.”
She kissed Kira’s forehead, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. Kira rose onto her toes and kissed her properly. Malia immediately abandoned the grocery bag in the grass so she could wrap both arms around Kira’s waist. Kira laughed against her lips, holding onto her as Malia lifted her slightly from the ground. When they separated, Malia kept their foreheads pressed together.
“Girlfriend,” she said experimentally.
Kira’s smile widened. “Girlfriend.”
“I like it.”
“Me too.”
Malia picked up the snacks again and tugged her toward the woods. “Come on. We have to celebrate.”
“With beef jerky?”
“And chocolate.”
“Right. The traditional official-girlfriend feast.”
“It is now.”
They found a quiet place beside the creek, spreading Malia’s jacket across the grass and sitting close enough that their knees remained pressed together. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, casting bands of warm gold across the water.
Kira rested against Malia’s side while they shared the chocolate-covered pretzels. She had imagined making it official would involve something more elaborate. Flowers, perhaps, or a carefully planned dinner. A romantic speech beneath string lights. Something polished and perfect enough to match the importance of the moment.
Instead, she had stumbled through the question in Scott’s kitchen while frozen pizzas thawed on the table, and Malia had answered as though loving her was the most obvious fact in the world. Maybe that was better.
Malia nudged her shoulder. “You’re thinking too loudly.”
“That isn’t a thing.”
“It is with you.”
Kira tilted her head to look at her. “I’m thinking that I’m happy.”
“Good.”
“And that I love you.”
Malia went still. Kira’s stomach dropped. They had not said that yet either.
“I didn’t mean to just—” Kira began.
“I love you too.”
Kira stopped. Malia looked almost irritated by her surprise. “Was that another thing I was supposed to officially say?”
Kira laughed, relief bubbling through her. “Maybe.”
“Then I officially love you.”
“That sounds strangely contractual.”
Malia leaned in, brushing her nose against Kira’s. “I love you.”
This time, the words were quieter and deliberate. Kira kissed her softly. “I love you too.”
Malia settled back against the tree and pulled Kira closer, tucking her beneath one arm. They watched the sunlight disappear over the creek, passing the bag of pretzels between them. Nothing had changed, not really. Malia’s hand felt the same in hers. Her shoulder was just as warm beneath Kira’s cheek. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat remained familiar and comforting.
But now there were words for it. Girlfriends. Exclusive. Official
And when they returned to Scott’s house later that evening, Malia pushed open the back door and announced to the entire pack, without greeting or explanation, “Kira is officially my girlfriend.”
Stiles slowly lowered the soda he had been drinking. “You weren’t already official?”
Kira groaned. Scott covered his smile with one hand. Lydia looked entirely unsurprised. “Congratulations.”
Derek nodded once. “Good.”
Peter lifted an eyebrow. “How thrilling. Were commemorative certificates issued?”
Malia growled. Kira slipped her hand into Malia’s before the growl could become anything more threatening.
“Yes,” Kira said, smiling brightly at Peter. “And yours was mysteriously lost in the mail.”
Isabelle choked on her soda. Malia looked at Kira with undisguised admiration, then pulled her into another kiss in front of everyone.
Stiles groaned loudly. “Okay, making it official does not mean you have to demonstrate.”
Malia lifted one hand without breaking the kiss and extended her middle finger in his direction.
Kira laughed against her mouth.
Yes, she decided. Official suited them perfectly.