Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 12: Chapter 12. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
("The words were there. I just… couldn’t say them. Not yet.")
It had been weeks since Leah started wearing Jade’s hoodie like it was hers.
She’d washed it once. Dried it slowly, carefully. Folded it on her bed with trembling fingers, then unfolded it again and wore it for two straight days. That’s the kind of spell it cast. Or maybe it wasn’t the hoodie. Maybe it was what it meant.
They still hadn’t kissed again.
But every day, they moved closer to something irreversible.
A look that lingered too long.
A silence too heavy to be casual.
A breath held like a secret between them.
That Saturday, Jade invited Leah to a community art fair by the bay. The wind was soft, the skies overcast, the smell of salt clinging to the air. They walked side by side through rows of paintings, hand-thrown pottery, macrame hanging like lace in the breeze.
Leah caught Jade watching her when she wasn’t looking.
And Jade caught Leah doing the same.
They didn’t mention it.
Instead, they sat by the water after, dangling their legs off the edge of the pier. The waves lapped gently against the wood, and the sky began to soften into early dusk.
Leah felt something shift in her chest.
Something brave.
“I used to come here with someone,” she said quietly.
Jade glanced over. She didn’t ask who. She didn’t need to. “Do you still think of them?”
Leah hesitated. “Less now.”
“Why?”
Leah looked down at the water.
Then she looked at Jade.
“You.”
Just that.
Just the word.
And Jade… didn’t look away. Her mouth parted slightly, like something inside her softened, melted, became entirely still.
Leah’s pulse thundered in her ears. The moment stretched—painfully, beautifully, terrifyingly long.
Say it, she thought.
Say it now.
Say that you’re falling for her. Say that you don’t want to go a day without her voice. Say that her hoodie isn’t just a hoodie anymore—it’s a shield. A home. A sign.
But all she said was—
> “I’m glad I met you.”
Jade’s eyes flickered. Her fingers, resting beside Leah’s, twitched like they wanted to reach out and didn’t know how.
“I’m glad too.”
And that was all.
No kiss.
No declaration.
Just two girls, hearts thundering quietly beside one another, the words caught in their throats.
That night, Leah stood in her bathroom, toothbrush forgotten in her hand, staring at her own reflection.
She whispered the words she couldn’t say aloud:
> “I think I love you.”
And it echoed back, just as afraid, just as true.
The thing about confessions is—
Sometimes they arrive early.
But the courage to speak them?
That takes a little more time.
It had been weeks since Leah started wearing Jade’s hoodie like it was hers.
She’d washed it once. Dried it slowly, carefully. Folded it on her bed with trembling fingers, then unfolded it again and wore it for two straight days. That’s the kind of spell it cast. Or maybe it wasn’t the hoodie. Maybe it was what it meant.
They still hadn’t kissed again.
But every day, they moved closer to something irreversible.
A look that lingered too long.
A silence too heavy to be casual.
A breath held like a secret between them.
That Saturday, Jade invited Leah to a community art fair by the bay. The wind was soft, the skies overcast, the smell of salt clinging to the air. They walked side by side through rows of paintings, hand-thrown pottery, macrame hanging like lace in the breeze.
Leah caught Jade watching her when she wasn’t looking.
And Jade caught Leah doing the same.
They didn’t mention it.
Instead, they sat by the water after, dangling their legs off the edge of the pier. The waves lapped gently against the wood, and the sky began to soften into early dusk.
Leah felt something shift in her chest.
Something brave.
“I used to come here with someone,” she said quietly.
Jade glanced over. She didn’t ask who. She didn’t need to. “Do you still think of them?”
Leah hesitated. “Less now.”
“Why?”
Leah looked down at the water.
Then she looked at Jade.
“You.”
Just that.
Just the word.
And Jade… didn’t look away. Her mouth parted slightly, like something inside her softened, melted, became entirely still.
Leah’s pulse thundered in her ears. The moment stretched—painfully, beautifully, terrifyingly long.
Say it, she thought.
Say it now.
Say that you’re falling for her. Say that you don’t want to go a day without her voice. Say that her hoodie isn’t just a hoodie anymore—it’s a shield. A home. A sign.
But all she said was—
> “I’m glad I met you.”
Jade’s eyes flickered. Her fingers, resting beside Leah’s, twitched like they wanted to reach out and didn’t know how.
“I’m glad too.”
And that was all.
No kiss.
No declaration.
Just two girls, hearts thundering quietly beside one another, the words caught in their throats.
That night, Leah stood in her bathroom, toothbrush forgotten in her hand, staring at her own reflection.
She whispered the words she couldn’t say aloud:
> “I think I love you.”
And it echoed back, just as afraid, just as true.
The thing about confessions is—
Sometimes they arrive early.
But the courage to speak them?
That takes a little more time.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 12. Continue reading Chapter 13 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.