The first thing she remembered when her eyes opened was the warmth of Sara's cheek so close to her lips… and that casual, unguarded see you tomorrow.
The first thing she did after that was reach for her phone.
Not breakfast. Not a shower. Not even getting out of bed.
[Amy]: Morning. Sleep well?
A minute passed. Then two. Amy sat up, staring at the faint blue light of the screen.
The reply came at last.
[Sara]: Morning. Yeah, I did. You?
[Amy]: Yeah. So… did you mean what you said yesterday? About seeing me today?
There was a pause — longer this time. Amy wondered if she'd pushed too quickly.
[Sara]: …Yes. Why not?
Amy blinked at the screen, her mind running ahead. The next message came before she could type.
[Sara]: I mean—if you want to.
Her lips curved faintly.
[Amy]: I do.
After that, there was a stretch of awkward silence. She could almost feel it, like they were both standing in the same room, searching for what to say next.
Then Sara broke it.
[Sara]: What do you want to do?
[Amy]: Movie?
[Sara]: Works for me.
The thread loosened after that. Jokes slipped in, comments about how long it had been since either of them had been to the theater, and by the time they settled on a time, the earlier hesitation had dissolved into an easy rhythm again.
[Amy]: Oh — which car do you want me to bring?
[Sara]: The Velvet.
[Amy]: …Noted.
…
By early afternoon, Amy was behind the wheel of the Velvet Specter again, the soft purr of the engine matching the even thrum of her pulse. She didn't knock when she reached the Veylan house — just sent a quick message.
[Amy]: I'm here.
Sara appeared moments later, coat buttoned against the cool air, a faint smile ghosting her lips as she slid into the passenger seat.
…
The theater was quiet for a Sunday, the lobby filled with the smell of popcorn and the faint echo of trailers from nearby halls. They picked a romantic comedy — light, playful, nothing too heavy — and spent the next two hours laughing, leaning toward each other for quick comments during the slower scenes.
When they stepped back into the mall, the afternoon crowd had thinned, the high glass ceiling filtering pale light across the polished floors.
They found a small café tucked into one corner, ordered something warm, and sat by the window. Sara was halfway through her drink when Amy set her cup down.
"I'm going to ask you again," Amy said, voice steady despite the pulse in her throat. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
Sara met her eyes, but didn't answer. Not in words.
She leaned forward and kissed her.
This time, it was on the lips. Soft, certain, without hesitation.
When she pulled back, there was the faintest curve of a smile on her face.
Amy didn't need to hear yes.
…
The rest of the afternoon unfolded easily. They wandered through the mall, pausing at shop windows, trying on scarves, sharing small bites of dessert from a food stall. At one point, Amy bought Sara a bracelet she'd paused to look at — nothing extravagant, but Sara's expression when she clasped it around her wrist was enough to make Amy's chest tighten.
Night fell softly by the time they returned to the Veylan residence. Amy pulled the Specter to a stop and looked over — only to see Sara leaning in again, just as before. Another kiss, this one slow enough for Amy to memorize.
"Good night," Sara murmured, hand on the door handle. "See you soon."
Amy watched her go, still feeling the echo of her lips.
The drive home was a quiet haze, but this time, it wasn't confusion that filled her chest.
It was certainty.
By the time she changed for bed, the smile hadn't left her face.
And when she finally fell asleep, it was with the easy, certain knowledge that Sara was her girlfriend now.
…
Amy woke to the muffled buzz of her phone against the nightstand. She groaned, squinting at the light before sliding her hand across the surface until she caught it.
Risa.
She swiped to answer, voice still thick with sleep. "...Morning."
"You sound half-dead," Risa's dry tone came through. "What happened this time? Lumi's been in my ear since sunrise."
"Since yesterday," another voice chimed faintly in the background — Lumi, no doubt hovering near the phone. "You didn't answer my messages!"
Amy sat up, finally focusing enough to check the notifications. Her eyes widened. Thirty-two unread messages. All from Lumi.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I was… busy."
"Busy," Lumi repeated like it was a code word she was trying to crack. "Too busy to reply even once? What were you doing?!"
Amy hesitated, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heat in her cheeks. "I… have news."
There was a pause. Then Lumi's sharp intake of breath. "You do not get to say that and then hide behind a phone call. We're coming over."
Amy blinked. "Wait—"
The line went dead.
…
Barely forty minutes later, a knock sounded at her front door. Orrin had already let them through the gate, so when Amy opened the door, Risa stood there with her usual calm expression — and Lumi right beside her, eyes bright like a detective about to crack a case.
"Inside," Lumi said, sweeping past Amy without waiting for an invite.
"Good morning to you too," Amy murmured, closing the door.
They gathered in the living room, mugs of tea courtesy of Orrin. Lumi leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees. "Okay. Spill. Now."
Amy tried for nonchalance. "The last two days… I had my third date with Sara."
Risa's brow arched, but she stayed quiet. Lumi's grin was instant. "And?"
"And…" Amy shifted in her seat. "We went to the movies yesterday. Afterward, I asked her again if she wanted to be my girlfriend."
Lumi's hands flew to her mouth, muffling a squeal. "She said yes, didn't she? Oh, she totally said yes—"
"She didn't say anything," Amy interrupted, though her smile was giving her away. "She just kissed me."
That was enough. Lumi let out the squeal for real this time, smacking Risa's arm in victory.
"I knew it," Risa said, lips twitching. "So that's why you vanished."
The rest of the morning was a steady rhythm of teasing remarks and exaggerated retellings from Lumi, who seemed determined to dramatize every moment Amy described. Even Risa chimed in now and then, offering sly comments that made Amy cover her face with her hands.
By the time the conversation wound down, the three of them were laughing easily, the kind of laughter that came from comfort and familiarity.
Amy leaned back against the couch, warmth lingering in her chest.