Episode Eleven – Dangerous Rhythm
1176 Words
Lucía’s POV
There was something cruel about silence when you were waiting for it to be broken.
Lucía sat on the edge of her bed, her phone in her hand, the screen black. No new messages. No new excuses.
But Valentina hadn’t made excuses.
She hadn’t said much of anything at all.
Only: You should eat something before work. Ask for Rosa.
Lucía hadn’t gone to Rosa. She’d deliberately taken the long way to work, walking the opposite direction down streets filled with strangers. Like not answering was some kind of power play. Like it mattered.
But it did. That was the problem.
She hated that she could still feel Valentina’s presence days later—haunting her in the narrow kitchen at the restaurant, in the stolen glances from coworkers who’d noticed her zoning out mid-shift, in the mirror when she caught herself touching her own lips like they still burned.
Valentina hadn’t kissed her.
But it had been close.
Too close.
Lucía flopped back onto the bed, dragging a pillow over her face to muffle the sound she didn’t mean to make. A groan. Or maybe a scream.
This wasn’t her. She didn’t do this. She didn’t obsess over mysterious, dangerous women who wore pain like perfume and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world worth breaking the rules for.
Lucía was normal. Predictable. Safe.
But Valentina wasn’t.
And Lucía was beginning to realize—maybe she didn’t want safe anymore.
---
The messages kept coming. Small ones.
Fragments.
Valentina:
Saw a dog that reminded me of you. Fiery and small.
Valentina:
You look better when you’re mad. Try not to bite anyone today.
Valentina:
I’m outside. But I won’t knock unless you tell me to.
Lucía read them all.
Didn’t reply.
Deleted some. Re-read the others.
And every night, when she climbed into bed, she thought about that last text. I’m outside.
Was she?
Lucía never looked.
Because if Valentina really was out there, standing in the shadows under the streetlamp like some kind of dream she wasn’t ready to wake up from…
She didn’t know what she’d do.
---
By the end of the week, Lucía gave in.
Not with a grand declaration. Not with a yes.
Just a time.
A place.
No questions.
No promises.
She picked a restaurant on the outskirts of the city—dim lighting, candlelit tables, a name you couldn’t Google too easily. Something that felt removed from both of their worlds.
If Valentina was surprised, she didn’t show it. She just said, Seven. I’ll be there.
Lucía told herself she was doing this for closure.
That if she could just look Valentina in the eyes and say whatever this is, it ends now, she’d walk away clean.
But even she didn’t believe it.
---
Valentina arrived on time.
Lucía watched her from across the street first. Just a woman stepping out of a cab—no guards, no sleek black cars. Dressed in black jeans, a soft jacket, hair loose.
She looked ordinary.
That was the most dangerous part.
Valentina spotted her and smiled. Not smug. Not charming.
Just real.
Like they were old friends meeting for coffee instead of two people dancing around a fuse.
Lucía met her halfway.
"You came alone," she said.
Valentina tilted her head. “Of course I did.”
"That’s a stupid thing to do."
"I know. But I wanted you to see that I could."
Lucía didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. She just turned and walked toward the entrance.
Valentina followed.
---
They sat in the corner, away from the soft noise of the other diners. The table between them felt too small for the things they weren’t saying.
Lucía ordered pasta. Valentina got wine.
“I don’t trust you,” Lucía said once the waitress walked away.
“I don’t blame you,” Valentina replied.
Lucía studied her. “So what are we doing here?”
Valentina was quiet for a beat. “I don’t know. But I didn’t want it to stop.”
“This—” Lucía gestured between them, “—can’t be real. You know that.”
“I know it’s not safe. But it feels real.”
Lucía laughed bitterly. “You sound like someone who’s never been told no.”
Valentina smiled. “I’ve been told no before. Just not by someone who mattered.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Lucía looked away.
The food came. She picked at hers. Valentina didn’t eat much either.
But they stayed.
Talked.
About music. Their grandmothers. Their first scars.
Lucía mentioned how she broke her wrist trying to jump off the roof when she was ten.
Valentina said she once stole her father’s gun at twelve and hid it in a cereal box so he’d stop hitting her mother.
It was… disarming.
Honest.
A little too honest.
Lucía sipped her wine slowly.
“Are you trying to seduce me or confess something?”
Valentina smiled without teeth. “What if I’m just trying to be seen?”
Lucía stared at her. At the hollow in her throat, the tiny silver chain with a charm shaped like a flame. At the way her hand rested near the edge of the table, fingers curling and uncurling like they wanted to reach across the space.
She should have walked out.
She didn’t.
---
After dinner, they stepped outside.
The city felt quieter here.
Lucía wrapped her arms around herself, watching cars drift by like ghosts.
Valentina lit a cigarette. Held it between her fingers like an apology.
“I used to dream of getting out,” she said softly. “Running away. Starting over.”
Lucía raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
Valentina took a drag. Exhaled smoke into the air.
“Now I just want to remember what it feels like to want something that isn’t soaked in blood.”
Lucía turned away. That wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair.
“You should go,” she whispered.
Valentina nodded. Took one last drag. Stubbed the cigarette out against the wall.
But she didn’t leave.
Instead, she stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.
Lucía’s breath caught.
“I’m not asking you to save me,” Valentina said. “I just want one moment. One that’s ours.”
Lucía looked up. Eyes searching hers. Heart hammering.
“You always talk like this?” she asked, voice thin. “Like you’re in a movie?”
Valentina smiled. “Only when I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous?”
Valentina leaned in. Not quite touching.
“Yes.”
Lucía should have pushed her away.
But instead, she closed the distance.
Their lips met—warm, hesitant, unsure.
It wasn’t a kiss that changed everything.
It was a kiss that asked, Could we?
And when it broke, Lucía stood still, breath shallow.
Valentina didn’t speak.
She just stepped back.
Lucía didn’t stop her.
Because she couldn’t.
Because if she did—if she let this become something more—she knew she’d never be able to walk away.
- Writer
