CHAPTER 3- SPACE BETWEEN THIER HANDS
1255 Words
Kiana spent the rest of the school day floating.
Not literally—though her feet barely felt the ground beneath them—but emotionally, mentally, in every way a person can float without defying physics. Every thought drifted back to Zara. Every sound felt distant, muted by the echo of You look really pretty today.
Pretty.
No one had ever used that word for her before—not in a way that felt intentional. People at school called her “quiet,” “smart,” “art girl.” But never pretty.
She pressed the tip of her pencil lightly against her notebook in math class, trying to focus, but the memory of Zara leaning close kept replaying like a soft loop she didn’t know how to pause.
By the final bell, her nerves had rearranged themselves into a strange mix of anticipation and fear. She lingered by her locker, pretending to organize her books even though she’d done that twice already.
Her phone buzzed.
Zara: Hey, are you still on campus?
Kiana: Yes.
Zara: Meet me in the courtyard?
Kiana’s heart leaped into her throat.
She typed:
Kiana: Okay.
Just the word. Short. Safe. The kind of reply that protected her heart even as it raced.
She made her way to the courtyard, hands tucked into her sleeves. The late afternoon sun sat low, painting everything in warm gold. Students moved in small groups, some heading home, others staying for clubs or sports.
Zara was sitting on a stone bench under the jacaranda tree, its purple blossoms scattered around her like lazy confetti. She wore the same green hoodie from earlier, the hood pulled over her head as she scrolled her phone. She looked peaceful, in a way that didn’t match the chaos she stirred inside Kiana.
When Zara looked up, her smile bloomed instantly.
“There you are,” she said, patting the space beside her.
Kiana sat, careful to leave a respectful inch of space. Zara immediately slid just a bit closer, as if distance was a concept she didn’t believe in.
“You avoided me after lunch,” Zara teased.
“I didn’t avoid you.”
“You absolutely did,” Zara said, nudging her shoulder gently. “It’s okay. I’m used to people running away from my… uh… overwhelming charm.”
Kiana hid a smile. “You’re not overwhelming.”
“Not to you?” Zara asked, her voice softening.
Kiana hesitated. “I didn’t say that.”
A grin tugged at Zara’s lips. “So I am overwhelming.”
Kiana’s face warmed. She shifted on the bench, uncertain how close she was allowed to be. Zara made everything feel like a game—one Kiana didn’t yet know the rules to, but desperately wanted to learn.
Zara tugged lightly at the string of her hoodie. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Kiana swallowed. “What?”
Zara paused, eyes flicking to Kiana’s shy posture, her fidgeting hands, her lowered gaze. “You don’t have to answer,” she said gently. “But… have you ever liked someone before?”
The question hit Kiana like a weight she’d spent years trying to ignore.
“No,” she whispered.
Zara blinked. “Never?”
“Not like that,” Kiana clarified. “I mean… I didn’t think I was supposed to.”
Zara nodded slowly, understanding more than Kiana expected. “Sometimes we’re taught to ignore the things that feel the most real.”
Kiana’s fingers twisted together in her lap. “Have you?”
“Liked someone?” Zara asked. “Yeah. Twice.”
“Girls?” Kiana whispered before she could stop herself.
Zara looked at her, expression open and calm. “Yes. Girls.”
Kiana’s breath wobbled. She didn’t know what she expected Zara to say, but hearing it so plainly—and so confidently—made her chest tighten.
“It was messy both times,” Zara continued. “One was scared. The other wasn’t ready. So I learned not to expect too much. Just… moments.”
“Moments?” Kiana repeated.
Zara nodded. “Like this one.”
Kiana’s pulse stuttered.
They sat in silence for a stretch, letting the wind fill the space between words. Students passed behind them, laughter drifting through the courtyard, but neither girl looked away.
Zara's voice dropped to a whisper. “Does this moment scare you?”
Kiana stared at her hands. “Yes.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“No.”
Something unspoken passed between them—something fragile and warm.
Zara shifted, turning her body slightly toward Kiana. “Can I show you something?”
Kiana's eyes met hers. “Okay.”
Zara extended her hand, palm up. Not touching, just offering.
Kiana stared at it. Such a small thing. Such a huge thing.
Her chest tightened.
She placed her hand into Zara’s.
Zara’s fingers curled gently, careful not to hold too tight. Their palms rested warm against each other, skin meeting skin for the first time. The contact sent a soft electric wave up Kiana’s arm.
Zara’s thumb brushed the back of her hand once—just once—and Kiana felt her entire world shift.
“You’re shaking,” Zara whispered.
“I know.”
Zara squeezed softly. “It’s okay.”
They sat like that—hands intertwined, hearts unsteady beneath their ribs—as the courtyard gradually emptied. The sunlight dimmed, sliding from gold to honey to a shade of orange that felt like a secret being kept between them.
After several long, quiet minutes, Zara broke the silence.
“I like your hands,” she said. “They look like they’re made for gentle things.”
Kiana’s throat tightened. “I don’t know what to say when you talk like that.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Zara replied. “Just… don’t pull away.”
Kiana didn’t.
She held on.
A few more seconds passed before Kiana whispered, “Why me?”
Zara blinked in surprise. “Why not you?”
“I’m not…” Kiana struggled. “I’m not bold. I’m not confident. I’m not like—”
“Stop.” Zara’s voice was firm, but not harsh. She tilted Kiana’s chin gently so their eyes met. “You’re quiet. Observant. Kind. You don’t pretend. You let the world move through you in a way most people are too scared to.”
Her thumb brushed the edge of Kiana’s hand again. “You don’t have to be like me for me to like you.”
Kiana felt something heavy loosen in her chest—something she’d held onto for far too long.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Zara smiled softly. “There you are.”
The sky above them shifted toward dusk, streaked with lavender and fading blue. Someone called Zara’s name from across the courtyard—her brother, waving impatiently from a car.
Zara sighed. “I have to go.”
Kiana nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hand.
But before she stepped away, Zara leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” Kiana said.
Zara grinned and jogged toward the car, braid bouncing behind her.
Kiana sat alone on the bench, staring at her hands—hands that still felt warm, hands that no longer felt quite like they belonged to a girl who lived small and quiet.
Maybe tomorrow she’d learn how to want a little louder.
- Writer
