The Boutique
Aaliyah
As they rounded a corner, Aaliyah’s eyes lit up. A boutique with an elaborate sign and a window display of impeccably tailored outfits caught her attention. She came to an abrupt stop, tugging Cruz’s arm.
“Oh, we have to go in there,” Aaliyah said, already steering them toward the door.
Cruz frowned, glancing at the shop. “Why?”
“Because,” Aaliyah said, grinning. “We need to blend in, remember? And Milanese fashion is the perfect camouflage.”
Cruz hesitated, clearly unenthusiastic about the idea. “We’re fine as we are.”
Aaliyah shook her head. “Nope. Come on, Cruz. Humor me. Besides, you could use a wardrobe upgrade.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, but the faint twitch of her lips gave her away. “Fine. But you’re the one trying stuff on.”
“Deal,” Aaliyah said, dragging her through the boutique’s ornate glass door.
--
She draped a dress over her arm and started flipping through the rack, occasionally holding something up for Cruz’s opinion. Cruz, predictably, didn’t offer much more than a grunt or a shrug.
“You could at least pretend to enjoy this,” Aaliyah teased, pulling a bright red dress from the rack and holding it up against herself. “What do you think? Too bold?”
Cruz’s dark eyes flicked to the dress briefly before meeting Aaliyah’s gaze. “It’s fine.”
Aaliyah let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “You’re no help.” She draped the dress over her arm anyway, adding it to her growing collection.
As they moved deeper into the boutique, Aaliyah’s excitement only grew. She loved the textures, the colors, the way each piece seemed to tell a story. It felt indulgent, yes, but also liberating—a reminder that she could still find moments of joy, even in the midst of chaos.
She turned back to Cruz, who was standing stiffly near a mannequin, her eyes flicking between the boutique’s entrance and Aaliyah. Always on guard. Always vigilant. Aaliyah’s chest ached with a mix of affection and exasperation.
“Relax, Cruz,” she said, walking over and brushing her fingers lightly against Cruz’s forearm. “It’s just a boutique. No one’s going to ambush us here.”
Cruz’s posture softened slightly, though her jaw remained tight. “Doesn’t hurt to stay alert.”
Aaliyah smiled, stepping closer until there was only a sliver of space between them. “You could let your guard down for five minutes, you know. Trust me, the only danger here is me finding something so stunning I refuse to take it off.”
That earned her the faintest twitch of Cruz’s lips, and Aaliyah took it as a small victory.
“Now, sit,” Aaliyah commanded, pointing to one of the armchairs near the dressing rooms. “You’re the audience. I expect detailed feedback.”
Cruz hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking toward the chair as if it might swallow her whole. But eventually, she sighed and lowered herself onto the cushioned seat, her broad shoulders dwarfing the elegant frame.
Aaliyah beamed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Cruz’s head before disappearing into the dressing room with her armful of clothes.
The first dress was a sleek black number that clung in all the right places, its plunging neckline and slit daring but elegant. Aaliyah stepped out of the dressing room with a flourish, twirling slightly to show off the fabric’s movement.
“Well?” she asked, turning to Cruz with a playful smile.
Cruz’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, her dark eyes trailing from Aaliyah’s bare shoulders to the curve of her waist. She cleared her throat, her expression neutral but her ears tinged faintly pink. “It looks… good.”
“Good?” Aaliyah repeated, feigning offense. “That’s it? Just good?”
Cruz shifted in her seat, her hands resting on her knees. “What do you want me to say?”
“Try stunning, breathtaking, a work of art,” Aaliyah teased, striking a dramatic pose.
Cruz’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Stunning,” she said, her tone dry but laced with something warmer.
Aaliyah laughed, her heart fluttering at the rare glimpse of humor. “Much better.”
She disappeared back into the dressing room, emerging moments later in a fiery red dress with an open back. This time, Cruz’s reaction was less subtle. Her eyes widened slightly, her gaze dropping to the dip of the fabric before quickly snapping back up to meet Aaliyah’s.
“What do you think?” Aaliyah asked, turning to give Cruz the full view.
Cruz opened her mouth, closed it, and then finally managed, “It’s bold.”
Aaliyah’s grin widened. “Bold is good. I think I’ll keep this one.”
The playful dynamic continued, Aaliyah stepping out in outfit after outfit, each one earning a mixture of reluctant compliments and barely concealed admiration from Cruz. It wasn’t until Aaliyah emerged in a flowing white sundress, the fabric light and airy, that Cruz seemed to falter completely.
She didn’t say anything at first, her gaze locked on Aaliyah as if she couldn’t quite find the words. Aaliyah tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Cat got your tongue?”
Cruz blinked, her composure returning in an instant. “You look…” She hesitated, her voice softening. “Beautiful.”
The sincerity in Cruz’s tone made Aaliyah’s breath catch. She smiled, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on Cruz’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, her voice just as soft.
After a moment, Aaliyah straightened, her playful energy returning. “Okay, your turn.”
Cruz frowned. “What?”
--
“Cruz,” Aaliyah called out, holding up a fitted, midnight-blue blazer with a subtle pinstripe. “Come here.”
Cruz hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”
“Because I want to see you in this,” Aaliyah replied, her grin widening as she walked toward her. “And because it’ll look amazing on you.”
Cruz crossed her arms. “I don’t need—”
“You don’t need to say no before you even try,” Aaliyah interrupted, stepping close enough to hold the blazer against Cruz’s broad shoulders. She tilted her head, pretending to evaluate it. “Yep. This is definitely your color.”
Cruz gave her a skeptical look but didn’t pull away. “Aaliyah…”
“Please?” Aaliyah leaned in, her voice dropping to a coaxing whisper. “Do it for me?”
Cruz’s jaw tightened, but there was no resisting the quiet, playful plea in Aaliyah’s tone. With a resigned sigh, she took the blazer from her hands. “Fine. One outfit.”
“Try again,” Aaliyah said, thrusting a matching pair of tailored trousers into Cruz’s hands. “One perfect outfit.”
Cruz muttered something under her breath but took the clothes and disappeared into the fitting room.
When the door to the fitting room opened, Aaliyah felt her breath hitch. Cruz stepped out, the midnight-blue blazer fitting her like it had been tailored for her alone. The structured shoulders and slim cut accentuated her lean, athletic frame, and the matching trousers added an effortless edge of sophistication. She looked like she could walk onto the cover of a magazine or into a high-stakes poker game in Monte Carlo.
“Well?” Cruz asked, her tone casual, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
Aaliyah’s heart gave a traitorous flutter. “Oh… wow.”
Cruz shifted slightly, her fingers tugging at the cuffs of the blazer. “That bad, huh?”
“No,” Aaliyah said quickly, stepping closer. “Not bad. Not bad at all. You look…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Ridiculously hot.”
Cruz’s lips twitched, though her ears turned faintly pink. “It’s just a suit.”
“Not on you,” Aaliyah murmured, her fingers brushing lightly over the lapel. The fabric was smooth, but not as smooth as Cruz’s quiet confidence, which seemed amplified by the outfit. “You’re making this look unfairly good.”
Cruz let out a soft huff of amusement, but Aaliyah didn’t miss the way her shoulders straightened, just slightly. “If you say so.”
“Oh, I definitely say so,” Aaliyah replied, her gaze lingering a beat too long before she forced herself to step back. “Okay. Next one.”
Cruz groaned. “I thought you said one outfit.”
“I lied,” Aaliyah said with a teasing grin, grabbing another set from the rack. This one was a sleek black button-down with slim-fitting gray slacks. “Here. Humor me.”
Cruz shot her a look that was both exasperated and fond but disappeared back into the fitting room without protest.
The second outfit was just as show-stopping as the first, though in a completely different way. The black button-down was rolled up to Cruz’s elbows, revealing her strong forearms, and the open collar gave her a relaxed yet commanding presence.
Aaliyah bit her lip, trying and failing to hide her appreciation. “Okay, this one’s even better,” she said, stepping forward to adjust the collar slightly. “Seriously, Cruz, you need to let me dress you more often.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Can you blame me?” Aaliyah countered, her voice dropping slightly as she smoothed her hands down the front of the shirt. The heat of Cruz’s body beneath the fabric made her pulse quicken. “You look incredible.”
Cruz’s gaze softened, her dark eyes searching Aaliyah’s face. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
Aaliyah shrugged, her hands lingering on Cruz’s chest for just a moment longer. “I’m not trying to be.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the playful banter faded into something deeper. Aaliyah could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Cruz was still, her hands at her sides, but there was something in the way she looked at Aaliyah that made her breath catch.
“Okay,” Cruz said finally, her voice quieter now. “What’s next?”
Aaliyah blinked, startled out of the moment, and grinned. “I’ll find something. Stay here.”
By the time Aaliyah was finished, Cruz had tried on a series of outfits that ranged from casual chic to full-blown high fashion. There was a dark green sweater paired with tailored chinos that made Cruz look like she belonged in a cozy winter ad, and a sharp gray vest that had Aaliyah biting her lip so hard she almost drew blood.
“You’ve got a good eye,” Cruz admitted as Aaliyah handed over the last set—a crisp white shirt and navy trousers.
“I’ve got great eyes,” Aaliyah corrected with a smirk, watching as Cruz stepped back into the fitting room.
When Cruz emerged in the final outfit, Aaliyah swore her brain short-circuited. The clean lines of the shirt and trousers highlighted every inch of Cruz’s confident posture, and the simplicity of the look only made it more striking.
“Cruz…” Aaliyah began, her voice trailing off as she took a step closer. “I don’t even know what to say. You look… perfect.”
Cruz’s brow furrowed slightly, like she wasn’t quite sure how to take the compliment, but Aaliyah wasn’t about to let her deflect.
“You have no idea how good you look, do you?” Aaliyah said softly, her fingers brushing against Cruz’s sleeve. “Like, stop-traffic kind of good.”
Cruz smirked, though there was a hint of bashfulness in her expression. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Not even a little,” Aaliyah insisted, rising onto her toes to press a soft kiss to Cruz’s cheek. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to steal my thunder.”
“Not possible,” Cruz said, her tone warm as her hand rested lightly on Aaliyah’s waist.
Aaliyah smiled, leaning into the touch. “Let’s just say you’ll be the best-dressed Lady James Bond that Milan has ever seen.”
Cruz chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Aaliyah teased, grabbing their selections and heading for the register.
As they left the boutique with their bags in hand, Aaliyah couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. She’d managed to coax Cruz into something new, something different, and the result was nothing short of breathtaking.
Cruz
As they turned the corner, the vibrant hum of the piazza gave way to a quieter street, lined with high-end boutiques and cafés that practically screamed sophistication. Cruz kept her gaze moving, scanning the small clusters of pedestrians and the narrow side streets. The calm exterior of the Wagner neighborhood didn’t lull her instincts—if anything, the quiet made her more vigilant. The stillness could hide as much danger as the chaos.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the slight tug on her arm. She stopped abruptly, following Aaliyah’s gaze to a boutique with an elaborate sign and a window display that looked like it had been curated for a Milanese runway. Impeccably tailored suits, dresses, and accessories were arranged in perfect harmony under the soft glow of strategic lighting.
“Oh, we have to go in there,” Aaliyah said, her tone filled with excitement as she steered them toward the door.
Cruz frowned, her steps slowing as she glanced at the boutique. “Why?”
“Because,” Aaliyah said, her grin widening, “we need to blend in, remember? And Milanese fashion is the perfect camouflage.”
Cruz hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. Blending in was important—critical, even—but stepping into a boutique full of overpriced clothing didn’t feel like the most efficient use of their time. They were already dressed inconspicuously enough to pass as tourists. The idea of parading around in expensive outfits seemed excessive, impractical.
“We’re fine as we are,” she said evenly, her tone careful.
Aaliyah shook her head, her expression resolute. “Nope. Come on, Cruz. Humor me. Besides, you could use a wardrobe upgrade.”
That made Cruz pause. She turned her head to give Aaliyah a look, one eyebrow arching in response. “I could use a wardrobe upgrade?” she echoed, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at her lips despite herself. Her dark jeans and fitted black T-shirt had always done the job—practical, versatile, and easy to move in. A wardrobe “upgrade” felt unnecessary.
Aaliyah’s enthusiasm, though, was undeniable. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she held Cruz’s arm and began nudging her toward the boutique. Cruz felt herself softening despite her initial reluctance.
“Fine,” Cruz said, her voice tinged with resignation but laced with an almost imperceptible amusement. “But you’re the one trying stuff on.”
“Deal,” Aaliyah said triumphantly, flashing her brightest grin before pulling Cruz through the ornate glass door.
--
Cruz stood near the edge of the boutique, her eyes alternating between the entrance and Aaliyah as she wandered between racks of clothing with effortless ease. The boutique, with its faintly floral scent and polished perfection, felt foreign to Cruz. It was the kind of place she never would have set foot in on her own—too pristine, too polished, too far removed from her world of practicality and vigilance. Yet here she was, letting herself be tugged into Aaliyah’s orbit, as always.
When Aaliyah held up a bright red dress against herself and asked, “Too bold?” Cruz’s gaze flicked briefly to the dress before returning to Aaliyah’s face. She didn’t linger, though her mind registered how the color seemed to complement Aaliyah’s complexion, the way the neckline hinted at elegance and confidence.
“It’s fine,” she said, her tone deliberately neutral, though she could feel the heat creeping up her neck at the sight of Aaliyah’s grin.
Aaliyah’s exaggerated sigh drew a faint twitch of Cruz’s lips. She watched as Aaliyah added the dress to her growing pile and moved to another rack, her energy practically vibrating with excitement. Cruz stayed rooted in place, one shoulder brushing against a mannequin, her arms crossed loosely as her gaze swept the boutique.
It was strange to watch Aaliyah like this—unfiltered, vibrant, and carefree. Cruz felt a quiet pang of something she couldn’t name, some mix of affection and unease. She was used to seeing Aaliyah in situations where every decision was shadowed by danger, where survival and strategy dictated their every move. Seeing her revel in something as simple as fabrics and colors made Cruz realize how little normalcy Aaliyah had been allowed—and how much she deserved it.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Aaliyah appeared at her side, her fingers brushing lightly against Cruz’s forearm. The touch sent a quiet ripple of warmth through her chest, but she willed herself to stay composed.
“Relax, Cruz,” Aaliyah said softly, her voice laced with affection. “It’s just a boutique. No one’s going to ambush us here.”
Cruz’s shoulders eased slightly, though her instincts didn’t let her drop her guard entirely. “Doesn’t hurt to stay alert,” she replied evenly, her tone a little softer than usual.
Aaliyah stepped closer, her presence radiating an energy that Cruz couldn’t ignore. “You could let your guard down for five minutes, you know,” Aaliyah teased, her voice lilting with warmth. “Trust me, the only danger here is me finding something so stunning I refuse to take it off.”
The faintest tug of a smile pulled at Cruz’s lips before she could stop it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Now, sit,” Aaliyah commanded, her tone playful but firm as she pointed to an ornate armchair near the dressing rooms. “You’re the audience. I expect detailed feedback.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the chair as though it were a trap. She hesitated, but Aaliyah’s unwavering grin broke through her reluctance. With a quiet sigh, Cruz lowered herself into the chair, her broad shoulders making the elegant frame seem comically small. As she settled in, Aaliyah leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before disappearing into the dressing room.
Cruz blinked, her composure momentarily rattled by the unexpected gesture. She found herself staring at the dressing room curtain, her thoughts spinning in a way that felt unfamiliar. Aaliyah had a way of throwing her off balance, of bypassing every wall Cruz had carefully constructed. It was disarming and exhilarating all at once.
When Aaliyah emerged in the first dress—a sleek black number that hugged her figure—Cruz couldn’t help the way her gaze lingered. Her eyes traced the lines of the dress, the way it accentuated Aaliyah’s curves without being overdone. Cruz swallowed, willing her expression to remain neutral even as her heartbeat quickened.
“Well?” Aaliyah asked, her playful smile daring Cruz to respond.
Cruz cleared her throat, forcing herself to meet Aaliyah’s gaze. “It looks… good,” she said, her voice steady but quieter than usual.
“Good?” Aaliyah repeated, feigning offense. “That’s it? Just good?”
Cruz shifted slightly in her seat, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to think of a response. “What do you want me to say?” she asked, though her voice carried a faint hint of amusement.
Aaliyah struck a dramatic pose, her teasing grin widening. “Try stunning, breathtaking, a work of art.”
Cruz allowed a small smirk to slip through. “Stunning,” she said, her tone dry but warm.
Aaliyah laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, and Cruz felt an unspoken victory in the way Aaliyah’s eyes sparkled with joy. She watched as Aaliyah disappeared back into the dressing room, her own gaze lingering on the spot where she’d stood.
Each new outfit Aaliyah tried on brought a fresh wave of reactions Cruz tried to temper. The fiery red dress, with its open back and daring cut, made Cruz’s jaw tighten as her eyes involuntarily followed the dip of the fabric. She quickly looked away, only to have her gaze drawn back moments later.
“It’s bold,” Cruz managed, her voice lower than intended.
“Bold is good,” Aaliyah replied, clearly delighted by the effect she was having.
Cruz wasn’t sure if it was the boutique’s warm lighting, the curve of Aaliyah’s smile, or the way her confidence radiated with every step, but Cruz felt like the air in the room had shifted. She found herself drawn into Aaliyah’s energy, unable to look away even when she tried.
When Aaliyah emerged in a flowing white sundress, Cruz’s composure finally faltered. The dress was simple, elegant, and somehow made Aaliyah look like she’d stepped out of a dream. Cruz’s throat tightened, her usual steady control slipping for a moment as her gaze lingered.
“You look…” Cruz hesitated, her voice softer than before. “Beautiful.”
The word carried more weight than Cruz intended, and she knew Aaliyah felt it too by the way her breath seemed to catch. Aaliyah stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on Cruz’s shoulder, and Cruz resisted the urge to lean into the touch.
“Thank you,” Aaliyah said, her voice just as soft.
Cruz nodded, her thoughts tangled as she tried to steady herself. But before she could dwell on the moment, Aaliyah’s playful energy returned, her grin widening.
“Okay, your turn,” Aaliyah said, her tone brimming with mischief.
Cruz’s brows furrowed. “What?”
--
Cruz stood stiffly by the rack of tailored blazers, her arms crossed loosely as she watched Aaliyah flip through the clothes with an enthusiasm Cruz couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the artistry of well-made clothing—she did—but the idea of trying anything on, let alone being the center of Aaliyah’s focus, made her skin prickle with unease.
When Aaliyah called her name, holding up a midnight-blue blazer with subtle pinstripes, Cruz hesitated. Her instincts, ever on high alert, told her to keep an eye on the boutique’s entrance and avoid distractions. But Aaliyah’s grin—wide, inviting, and full of mischief—was impossible to ignore.
“Come here,” Aaliyah said, her tone light but commanding, as she moved toward Cruz with the blazer draped over her arm.
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her body instinctively leaning away as Aaliyah got closer. “Why?”
“Because I want to see you in this,” Aaliyah said, her voice dipping into a coaxing softness that Cruz had no defenses against. “And because it’ll look amazing on you.”
Cruz didn’t pull away when Aaliyah pressed the blazer against her shoulders, tilting her head to “evaluate” the match. The fabric was soft against her skin, and the color was striking, even in her peripheral vision. But it wasn’t the blazer that held her attention—it was Aaliyah, standing too close, her eyes sparkling with excitement as if this moment meant more to her than just picking out clothes.
“Aaliyah…” Cruz began, her tone edged with reluctance.
“Please?” Aaliyah interrupted, stepping even closer. Her voice dropped into a whisper that felt entirely too intimate. “Do it for me?”
The quiet plea unraveled Cruz’s resistance, just as Aaliyah likely knew it would. Cruz sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching in something akin to a smirk as she took the blazer from Aaliyah’s hands. “Fine. One outfit.”
Aaliyah’s expression brightened, but before Cruz could step away, Aaliyah thrust a matching pair of trousers into her hands with a devilish grin. “Try again—one perfect outfit.”
Cruz muttered under her breath as she retreated to the fitting room, her mind already bracing for the inevitable teasing. As she shrugged off her jacket and pulled on the midnight-blue ensemble, Cruz couldn’t help but notice how well it fit. The blazer was snug across her shoulders but allowed for easy movement, and the trousers sat low on her hips, their tailored cut accentuating her lean frame. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror didn’t feel quite like her—but it wasn’t entirely foreign either.
Taking a breath, Cruz pushed open the door and stepped out.
The look on Aaliyah’s face stopped her in her tracks.
Cruz wasn’t used to being the focus of someone’s open admiration. But the way Aaliyah’s eyes widened, the slight hitch in her breath—it was all so unguarded, so genuine, that Cruz felt an unfamiliar warmth settle in her chest.
“Well?” Cruz asked, keeping her tone neutral to mask the flicker of uncertainty she felt under Aaliyah’s scrutiny.
Aaliyah’s gaze trailed from the structured shoulders of the blazer to the slim cut of the trousers, lingering in a way that made Cruz’s pulse quicken. “Oh… wow.”
Cruz tugged lightly at the cuffs of the blazer, more to ground herself than to adjust the fit. “That bad, huh?”
“No,” Aaliyah said quickly, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, almost reverent. “Not bad. Not bad at all. You look…” Her words faltered before she settled on, “Ridiculously hot.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching at the compliment. She wanted to downplay it, to brush it off, but Aaliyah’s expression—wide-eyed and sincere—left no room for deflection. “It’s just a suit,” she said instead, her voice deliberately casual.
“Not on you,” Aaliyah murmured, her fingers brushing over the lapel of the blazer. The touch was fleeting, but it burned like a brand against Cruz’s skin. “You’re making this look unfairly good.”
Cruz let out a soft huff of amusement, but there was a slight tightness in her chest—a quiet vulnerability she wasn’t sure how to process. Aaliyah’s open admiration wasn’t something Cruz was used to, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. In fact, it made her stand a little straighter, a small part of her soaking in the attention despite herself.
“Oh, I definitely say so,” Aaliyah continued, her voice teasing but warm. She stepped back with an almost reluctant movement, leaving Cruz feeling unmoored without her presence close by. “Okay. Next one.”
Cruz groaned, rolling her eyes. “I thought you said one outfit.”
“I lied,” Aaliyah said cheerfully, grabbing another set of clothes from the rack. This time, it was a sleek black button-down and slim-fitting gray slacks. “Here. Humor me.”
Despite her feigned exasperation, Cruz took the clothes without protest. She stepped back into the fitting room, her mind lingering on the way Aaliyah had looked at her in the blazer. It was unnerving, sure, but it was also… nice. More than nice. It made her wonder what Aaliyah saw when she looked at her with such unabashed affection.
The second outfit was simpler but no less striking. Cruz rolled up the sleeves of the button-down, the fabric snug against her forearms, and left the collar open for a more relaxed look. When she stepped out, Aaliyah’s reaction was immediate.
“Okay, this one’s even better,” Aaliyah said, stepping closer and reaching up to adjust the collar slightly. Her hands lingered, and Cruz felt the heat of Aaliyah’s touch even through the fabric. “Seriously, Cruz, you need to let me dress you more often.”
Cruz arched an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Can you blame me?” Aaliyah countered, her voice dipping lower as her hands smoothed down the front of Cruz’s shirt. The subtle pressure sent a shiver through Cruz’s body, though she kept her expression carefully composed. “You look incredible.”
Cruz’s gaze softened as she studied Aaliyah’s face, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know,” she said, her voice quieter now.
“I’m not trying to be,” Aaliyah replied, her confidence unwavering as her fingers lingered for just a moment longer.
The air between them shifted, charged with an intensity Cruz couldn’t quite name. She stood perfectly still, her hands at her sides, as if any movement might shatter the fragile moment. Aaliyah’s eyes searched hers, and Cruz felt something unspoken pass between them—something that made her breath hitch.
“Okay,” Cruz said finally, her voice cutting through the tension as she straightened. “What’s next?”
Aaliyah blinked, her grin returning as she grabbed another outfit. “I’ll find something. Stay here.”
By the time they finished, Cruz had tried on more outfits than she could count—a dark green sweater that felt surprisingly comfortable, a sharp gray vest that made Aaliyah bite her lip in a way Cruz pretended not to notice, and finally, a crisp white shirt and navy trousers that felt like a second skin.
When she stepped out in the last outfit, Aaliyah’s reaction was instant and overwhelming.
“Cruz…” Aaliyah breathed, her voice trailing off as she approached. “I don’t even know what to say. You look… perfect.”
The sincerity in her tone made Cruz’s chest tighten. She shifted slightly, unsure how to handle the weight of Aaliyah’s words. “You have no idea how good you look, do you?” Aaliyah said softly, her fingers brushing against Cruz’s sleeve.
Cruz’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, though her voice betrayed her unease. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Not even a little,” Aaliyah insisted, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Cruz’s cheek. The gesture was tender, and Cruz felt a warmth spread through her chest, steady and grounding.
As they left the boutique, bags in hand, Cruz found herself glancing at Aaliyah out of the corner of her eye. For once, she let herself indulge in the quiet happiness of the moment, even as the shadows of her thoughts lingered in the background.
--
The door to the villa clicked shut behind them, muffling the gentle hum of Milan’s lively streets. Cruz exhaled softly, slipping the shopping bags from her hand onto the nearest chair. The villa’s quiet calm was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the neighborhood, and Cruz welcomed the silence like an old friend. For all its charm and beauty, Milan’s crowds still put her on edge. Here, behind the thick walls of the villa, she could let her guard down—if only a little.
Aaliyah brushed past her, humming softly under her breath as she kicked off her shoes and set the boutique bags on the table. Her contented smile made Cruz’s chest tighten in a way she hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. It was a smile she found herself wanting to protect, no matter the cost.
“You’re quiet,” Aaliyah said, turning to face Cruz. She tilted her head, her expression teasing but curious. “Regretting letting me dress you up?”
Cruz smirked faintly, shaking her head as she set her keys on the counter. “Not at all. You seemed to enjoy it enough for both of us.”
“Oh, I definitely did,” Aaliyah said, her grin wide as she plopped onto the couch and stretched her legs out. “Best part of the day.”
Cruz glanced at her, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement. “Good to know I’m more entertaining than Milan’s architecture.”
“Barely,” Aaliyah teased, leaning her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Though I’d give you bonus points if you cooked me dinner.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her hands settling on her hips. “Is that a challenge?”
“More like a request,” Aaliyah said, her grin softening into something more earnest. “You’ve got to have a hidden talent for cooking. Am I right?”
Cruz shook her head, though the corner of her mouth quirked in the faintest smile. “I can make something edible.”
“I’ll take it,” Aaliyah replied, her eyes lighting up. “What’s on the menu, Chef Cruz?”
“You’ll see,” Cruz said simply, already moving toward the kitchen.
Cruz methodically opened the fridge and cabinets, taking inventory of the ingredients. Fresh pasta, tomatoes, basil, garlic, and a block of Parmesan stood out among the carefully stocked shelves. Simple, but effective.
As she gathered what she needed, Cruz’s mind began to wander. The day’s events—exploring the neighborhood, seeing Aaliyah’s joy as they wandered through boutiques—had sparked something in her. It wasn’t just about staying hidden or blending in anymore. For the first time in a long time, Cruz wanted to create something more. A moment that wasn’t dictated by necessity or circumstance. Something just for them.
The idea struck her quickly: a date. Not just a quiet dinner at the villa or a casual walk through the city, but something special. Aaliyah deserved that. After everything she’d been through, after the uncertainty and danger they were constantly running from, Cruz wanted to give her a memory untouched by shadows. Something she could hold onto.
As she diced tomatoes and minced garlic, Cruz mentally mapped out her plan. The restaurant she’d spotted earlier—the one tucked in the quiet piazza with twinkling lights and outdoor seating—seemed like the perfect place. She’d visit tomorrow, secure a reservation, and make sure every detail was right. Aaliyah didn’t know it yet, but Cruz intended to show her a side of Milan that wasn’t about survival. It was about living.
Cruz worked in silence, the rhythmic chop of her knife and the sizzle of garlic hitting olive oil filling the kitchen. She glanced toward the couch occasionally, where Aaliyah had curled up with a book she’d found on the villa’s shelf. Aaliyah looked utterly at peace, her soft hair falling in loose waves as she tucked her legs beneath her. Cruz allowed herself a small moment to take it in—the way the golden light of the room seemed to wrap around Aaliyah like a second skin, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the easy grace of her posture.
Shaking herself free from the distraction, Cruz turned her attention back to the stove. She added the tomatoes to the pan, their vibrant red color deepening as they simmered. The aroma of fresh basil and garlic filled the room, and she could hear Aaliyah stir behind her.
“That smells amazing,” Aaliyah said, her voice warm as she leaned on the counter. Cruz hadn’t even noticed her approach, but there she was, her face glowing with curiosity and something softer—something Cruz wasn’t sure she deserved but couldn’t bring herself to push away.
“Simple,” Cruz said, shrugging as she stirred the sauce. “Nothing fancy.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” Aaliyah replied, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Cruz work. “You cooking for me is already more than enough.”
Cruz glanced at her, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she masked it with a faint smirk. “Flattery gets you dessert.”
Aaliyah laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained, and Cruz felt the weight in her chest ease. The villa, the soft lighting, the quiet presence of Aaliyah beside her—it felt safe in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.
When the pasta was done, Cruz plated the dishes with quiet precision, adding a generous sprinkle of grated Parmesan and a sprig of basil to each. She carried the plates to the small table by the window, where Aaliyah was already waiting with an eager smile.
As they sat down to eat, Aaliyah reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Cruz’s. “Thank you,” she said softly, her gaze holding Cruz’s for a beat too long.
Cruz didn’t respond right away. She couldn’t. But as she returned the light pressure of Aaliyah’s touch, a quiet promise settled in her mind. Tomorrow, she’d make good on the plans swirling in her head. Aaliyah deserved to see the beauty of Milan, not just as a backdrop for survival, but as a stage for something more. Something real.