6
Fina grinned as she reread Marta’s response, sprawled out on her couch with her phone resting against her stomach.
Meh. You were alright. The guitarist, though? Incredible.
Sassy. Sharp. God, she liked that.
She bit her lip, tapping out a reply.
Ouch. My ego may never recover. Guess I'll have to try harder next time.
A few minutes passed. Nothing. Fina wasn’t sure if Marta was ignoring her or if she was just busy being very important and serious in her corporate world. Then,
Might take more than that. You sure you can handle the challenge?
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Fina’s lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.
And so it began.
What started as a simple message turned into an easy rhythm, a steady back-and-forth of texts that filled Fina’s days and, more importantly, her nights. The conversation flowed effortlessly – playful teasing laced with an undercurrent of something deeper.
She sent Marta silly cat videos, because that was obviously a crucial part of any budding connection. Marta, at first, responded with a simple Why are you like this? but later admitted she might’ve laughed. That was all the encouragement Fina needed.
Marta, for her part, started sharing little glimpses of her world, a snapshot of her morning coffee with the caption ‘Fuel for battle’, a sarcastic remark about boardroom drama, even a rare candid admission of frustration (mostly with Jesús, who Fina had learned was one of Marta’s brothers). And Fina loved it. Every text, every window into Marta’s life, only made her want more.
It wasn’t just playful flirting anymore. It was something yet to be named.
Late at night, lying in bed, phone in hand, Fina found herself staring at their messages, rereading certain exchanges just to feel that spark all over again.
One night, after Marta had mentioned a grueling day, Fina sent:
If I were there, I'd bring you wine and make you forget all about your terrible day.
The typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.
Finally:
Bold of you to assume I’d let you in.
Fina chuckled.
Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t find a way.
The response came slower this time, but when it did, it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
You’re trouble, aren’t you?
“You have no idea”, Fina whispered to herself as she stared at the message, fingers hesitating over the keyboard.
Because the truth was, this, whatever it was, was becoming something real.
And she wasn’t the only one noticing.
Carmen and Claudia had been on her case for days now.
"You're on your phone all the time lately," Claudia pointed out one afternoon as they packed up after rehearsal. "Is it a secret side project we should know about?"
Carmen wiggled her eyebrows. "Or is it a who rather than a what?"
Fina rolled her eyes, shoving her phone into her back pocket. "You’re both insufferable."
"So that's a yes," Claudia teased.
"That’s a mind your business," Fina shot back, dodging them as she grabbed her jacket.
Truth was, she didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. She wanted to keep Marta to herself, just for a little while longer. This wasn’t something she wanted dissected or teased about. It felt special.Sacred. Like the start of something she wasn’t ready to share with the world just yet.
But inside, she knew, she knew she wanted more.
More messages. More insight into this woman. More Marta.
And maybe—just maybe—it was time to see if Marta wanted more, too.
That night, she took a breath, steeling herself before sending her next message. Normally, she was the bold one, the one who leaped first and figured it out later. But this was different. Marta was different.
Sure, she seemed to be enjoying their back-and-forth, this playful dance they had going on, but Fina had also sensed something else, something guarded. A hesitance in Marta’s responses sometimes, a carefulness in the way she shared little pieces of herself. Like she was holding back, like one wrong move could make her slip away completely.
Fina didn’t want to make that wrong move.
She was afraid of asking for more and scaring Marta off. Afraid that if she pushed too soon, the door that had only just cracked open would slam shut before she even had the chance to step through it.
But she also couldn’t keep pretending this was enough.
She wanted to hear Marta’s voice, not just imagine the way it might sound when she read her words. She wanted to know what she laughed like, what she sounded like when she was tired, when she was distracted, when she wasn’t carefully curating every response.
And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to see if this thing between them could be real.
So she took a breath, steeled herself, and typed:
I think we both know this app isn’t enough. What do you say we take this conversation somewhere a little more... personal?
Her thumb hovered over the send button, heart pounding. Too much?
No, just enough.
Before she could second-guess herself, she hit send.
And then, after a pause, she added,
Give me your number, hermosa.
And waited.