7
Marta stared at her phone, her thumb resting over the screen, unmoving. The last message from Fina glowed at her like a challenge, like a dare.
"Give me your number, hermosa."
Such a simple request. Just a string of digits. But somehow, it felt like so much more.
With a sigh, she swiped to her gallery, her stomach tightening when she landed on a familiar photo. Fina, mid-performance, eyes closed, lost in the music. She had saved it without thinking, without meaning to—an impulse she hadn't examined too closely.
Marta traced the curve of Fina’s face on the screen, then let her head fall back against her chair with a groan.
"What are you doing to me?"
This whole thing had been a whirlwind, a rollercoaster of excitement and exhilaration coupled with doubt and fear. Fear of what, exactly? She wasn’t even sure.
Maybe fear of losing control. Of wanting something she didn’t know how to handle.
She had never been one for uncertainty. Her entire life had been about precision, about knowing what she wanted and going after it with unwavering focus. Her career, her success – those things had never been left to chance. Even her past relationship had been structured, expected.
But Fina?
Nothing about Fina felt certain. She was unpredictable, electric, a storm that had swept into Marta’s life without warning. Even in this short span of time, everything felt new with her. Good different.
And that terrified Marta more than anything.
Because she wasn’t used to feeling good.
In fact, she wasn’t used to feeling much at all.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as her mind warred with itself. She could ignore the message, keep things as they were, safe behind the screen. She could keep her distance, pretend this didn’t matter.
But that would be a lie.
And Marta was tired of lying to herself.
With a slow exhale, she nodded to herself, as if sealing a silent agreement. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she typed out her response.
You're persistent, aren’t you?
And then, after a brief hesitation, she added her number.
She hit send.
And just like that, there was no going back.
Marta immediately put her phone face down next to her, as if that could somehow lessen the weight of what she'd just done.
She didn’t even know what she was waiting for.
A reply? A call? A sign that she hadn’t just made a mistake?
It was late. Fina didn’t have a gig tonight, Marta knew that much, and had committed the tour dates to memory without even meaning to. Not that she would ever admit it. When did I start keeping track of her schedule?
She let out a slow breath and sank back against her pillows, willing herself to let it go. Fina was probably asleep, resting after weeks of performances.
But then,
A buzz.
Her phone vibrated against the wooden surface of her nightstand.
Marta’s heart lurched against her ribs.
She stared at it. One new text. Unknown number.
Of course, it was her.
With hesitant fingers, she reached for the device, turning it over to reveal the message.
Damn. And here I was thinking I’d have to beg.
Marta huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Of course, Fina would make this into a game. The knot in her chest loosened, just a little.
She hovered over the keyboard, considering her response. There was still time to be cautious, to keep some distance.
But where was the fun in that?
Don't get used to it. I just got tired of you skulking in my DMs.
She hit send.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.