La Distancia Entre Nosotros Novels & Stories

and with that, I close the little space that there is between us. We kiss and I can tell that's the beginning of the better things to come.

Neither did I. But when his hand brushed against mine as we passed, he didn’t pull away. Neither did I. The distance between us wasn’t distance anymore. It was something else entirely. Something dangerous. Something real.

Stronger. “You’re not doing that.” “You don’t get to decide that,” I said quietly. Her eyes flashed. “And neither do you.” Silence snapped between us. Real. Sharp. Because this stopped being strategy two pulses ago. This is us. Lucien watched us both. Then said the one thing that shifted the ground again. “You’re both wrong.” We turned. “How.” “Distance won’t fix this,” he said. Pause. “Because the connection isn’t physical anymore.” My chest tightened. “Then what is it.”

And I didn’t know how many chances I had left… before the distance between us stopped being something I could close— and became something I couldn’t cross.

He began a new song — something about distance and faith, about chasing different dreams on the same path. Halfway through, he hit record. When he finished, he texted the file to Elena with a single line: “Still building this with you.” Some love doesn’t shrink with space. Some love expands until it fills every mile.

“So what made him an asshole, today?" "Promise you wouldn't tell on me?" I said with a stern tone, and he glanced at my face briefly. “I wouldn't!" "Alright! But first, tell me why you are friends with him?” I asked, and he smiled again. “I'm not just friends with him. We are actually distant cousins. Maternal distance cousins! Remember what I said about being like-minded with the CEO?” He asked and I remembered it. “You are actually cousins! And he had the nerve to assume we are fucking each other?” I asked and he laughs out softly.

I felt the distance between us, a chasm that I didn't know how to cross. And then, before my eyes, she collapsed.

The air between us thinned. His eyes went to my mouth again and this time stayed there, and I felt the distance between us as a physical thing — something measurable, shrinking, the inches between us becoming a conversation we weren't having with words. His hand was still in my hair. His thumb moved once against my temple. His gaze came back up to mine and the question in it was answered before I'd consciously decided to answer it. The space between us narrowed to almost nothing. My phone rang. We both went completely still.

Distance, I’ve learned, isn’t only about separation. Sometimes it’s the space you give someone to walk without being pulled.