context. it's that time of year. grammy season. nominated for album of the year for your new album 'kiss me, it's temporary', you're expected to show up and sweep the academy off their feet. it doesn't help that on top of all the nerves—your ex, manon, is attending a few tables away from you. it's like the internet's picture perfect moment, knowing that something is bound to happen.
contents. fem reader, emotional, angst, breakups, tension, alcohol, unwanted public attention, lowk nail biting, y/n is so brave cs wth
track. distant lover - marvin gaye
the flashes start before you even fully step out of the car, bright and relentless, spilling across the carpet in sharp bursts of white that blur together if you look too long. your name is already being called—loud, overlapping, urgent—voices competing to pull your attention in every direction at once.
for a moment, you stay still.
you let the noise settle into something you can move through, something familiar, something controlled. then you step forward, heel pressing into the carpet as the cameras surge again, louder this time, more insistent now that you’re fully in view.
the dress does exactly what it’s supposed to do.
fabric drapes along your frame with a kind of quiet precision, sculpted but soft, the asymmetrical cut catching light as you move. the slit reveals just enough with each step to feel intentional rather than bold, while the layered ruffles at the bottom trail behind you with a subtle weight. over your shoulders, the sheer pink chiffon cape flows almost weightlessly, shifting between blush and rose under the lights, softening everything about the look in a way that feels almost dreamlike.
it matches the album in a way people will talk about later. that same romantic, airy softness. that same curated femininity.
you pause when the photographers ask you to, turning slightly, adjusting your posture just enough to give them what they want without ever looking like you’re trying. your chin tilts, your shoulder angles back, and your expression settles into something calm but present. it’s practiced, there’s still something real underneath it, something that keeps the moment from feeling staged.
somewhere past the barricade, a voice cuts through clearly.
“we love you, y/n!”
your expression shifts before you can stop it, something smaller and more genuine breaking through as you glance over, lifting your hand in a quick wave as you blew a kiss. the reaction is immediate—cheers rising, louder now, more personal—and you let yourself hold onto that for just a second before moving again.
step, pause, turn.
by the time you reach the interview section of the carpet, the energy shifts slightly. it’s less overwhelming here, more focused, more conversational, though the cameras never really stop.
you recognize them before they even speak.
“hi!” you greet, your smile widening as you step toward them, already sensing the difference in tone compared to the more polished interviews you’ve passed.
jake looks at you like he’s trying to process the entire outfit at once, shaking his head slightly as he grins. “okay, i need a second because this is actually insane. you look innnnnn—credible.”
quen immediately backs him up, her expression just as animated as she gestures toward you. “no, seriously, this is literally a gag. the dress, the cape—this is the don julio of tonight's looks.”
you let out a small laugh, dipping your head a little at the attention, your fingers brushing lightly over the chiffon draped across your shoulders. “oh my gosh, stop... but thank you. i wanted something that felt like the album. soft, a little dreamy… kind of romantic.”
jake raises a brow at that, clearly picking up on the wording. “romantic is literally the moment.”
your smile lingers, but there’s a subtle shift underneath it, something quieter, something more measured. “i mean, duh...” you say lightly, though it doesn’t quite land as casual as you intended.
quen watches you for a moment before she moves the conversation forward. “how are you feeling about tonight? you've got some awards waiting for you, girl...”
you take a small breath before answering, grounding yourself in something simpler. “i feel good,” you say, nodding once. “i think i'm just extremely grateful to even be nominated tonight. whatever happens, happens.”
there’s an ease to your tone, but it’s controlled, like you’ve repeated this mindset to yourself more than once.
jake groans with wide eyes. he shields his smile with the question cards in his hand. “i would be freaking out.”
that gets a more genuine smile out of you, something that reaches your eyes a little more fully. “i promise there’s chaos,” you admit. “it’s just not visible right now.”
they both laugh, the moment loosening again, but it doesn’t last long before jake shifts slightly, his posture changing just enough to signal the next question matters more.
“i have to ask,” he starts, his tone still gentle but more intentional now, “because people have been talking about it a lot… how have you been doing this past month? like, actually doing.”
the noise around you doesn’t stop, but it dulls just enough for the question to land differently. for a brief second, you feel the weight of it, the way everything about your life has been picked apart and discussed by people who don’t actually know you. it would be easy to deflect, to give them something polished and impersonal, something that doesn’t invite anything deeper.
but you don’t.
instead, you let out a quiet breath, your expression softening in a way that feels more honest than anything you’ve given so far.
“it’s been… different,” you admit, your voice steady even if your thoughts aren’t entirely. “i think when your life is so public, you don’t really get the chance to process things privately. but it also comes with the territory of—achieving things—that are as big as these award shows and all.”
there’s no dramatic pause, no over-explanation. just enough truth to feel real without giving everything away.
quen nods slowly, her expression understanding. "girl—you're gonna make—me cry.”
jake watches you for a second longer before easing the conversation back into safer territory. “well, regardless of everything, this has been a huge year for you. the album is literally so good. we're all rooting for you to win tonight, y/n.”
your smile returns, softer now but more grounded. “thank you,” you say, and this time it comes without hesitation. “that means a lot coming from you guys. please—find me when you guys get in there."
"oh, girl, we're running straight to you."
flashing a frown out of appreciation. shimmying over in your dress to hug them both, while bidding them goodbyes as well as the camera crew and the cameras.
by the time you’re seated, the atmosphere inside the venue has settled into something softer but no less intense. the lighting is low and warm, casting a golden glow across the tables, catching on glassware and jewelry, turning everything just slightly unreal. conversations are in a steady hum, occasionally breaking into laughter or applause as cameras sweep across the room. it’s calmer than the red carpet, but in a way that feels more intimate, more watchful.
you sit back in your chair and let your shoulders drop for the first time that night, just enough to feel the difference.
across from you, your best friend before any of this existed—leans forward slightly, taking everything in with wide-eyed disbelief. she'd been looking around nonstop since you sat down, like she's afraid she'll miss something if she'd stay focused on one place for too long.
“this is still insane,” she murmured, almost to herself, her gaze flicking from one table to another.
you let out a quiet laugh, wrapping your fingers loosely around your glass. “you’ve said that all night.”
“because it keeps being true,” she replies, shaking her head as she glanced back at you. “every time i look somewhere, it’s someone i’ve only ever seen online. i don’t think my brain can process this as real.”
you tilt your head slightly, a small smile forming as you follow her line of sight for a moment before looking back at her. “you kind of just learn to act like it is,” you say. “even when it doesn’t feel like it.”
at some point, sabrina joins the edge of the table, her energy more animated than the others. she glances around the room as she spoke, clearly still caught up in the scale of it all.
“holy shit. this is your first time being nominated in this category, right?” sabrina asked, her tone a mix of excitement and disbelief. “how are you not completely losing it right now?”
you smile, shaking your head slightly as you take in the question. “i think i am,” you admit, your voice light but honest. “it just hasn’t fully hit me yet.”
as you say it, your hand lifts almost unconsciously, gesturing outward as your eyes move across the room, taking in the size of it, the people, the atmosphere that still feels slightly unreal even now.
“it’s just… a lot,” you continue, your gaze drifting as you try to put the feeling into words. “like, when you actually look at it, how big it is, how many people are here—”
your voice falters, not abruptly, but enough that the sentence doesn’t quite finish the way you intended.
because your eyes land on her.
across the room, through the soft lighting and the movement of people shifting in their seats, you find manon without meaning to. the distance between your tables isn’t far, but it feels significant enough that, under normal circumstances, it would be easy not to notice.
except she’s already looking at you. not casually, not in passing, but directly, like her attention had been there before yours arrived.
for a moment, everything else dulls. the conversation at your table continues, sabrina still standing beside you, your best friend still watching from across the table, but it all feels quieter, like it’s happening just outside of where you are.
there’s no visible reaction from either of you. no sudden movement, no expression that would give anything away to anyone else in the room. but there’s something in the stillness of it, in the way neither of you look surprised, like this was always going to happen at some point tonight.
It hasn’t been long enough for it to feel easy.
your hand lowers slowly back to your side, the gesture you were making fading out as your focus narrows for just a second longer than it should. there’s too much to read in a single look, too much history sitting in something that simple, and you don’t let yourself try to understand any of it.
instead, you pull yourself back.
your gaze breaks away first, returning to sabrina, your expression smoothing over as you pick the conversation back up like nothing interrupted it.
“—overwhelming,” you finish, a small breath slipping into the word as you settle back into yourself. “but in a good way.”
sabrina nods, completely unaware of the shift that just passed through you. “that makes sense. it’s a lot to take in, obvi.”
the shift happens gradually, almost subtly at first.
conversations begin to quiet and attention starts pulling toward the stage as the next category is introduced. it doesn’t take long for the energy in the room to change completely, settling into something heavier, more anticipatory.
your table stills along with it.
your best friend straightens slightly in her seat, like she's trying to read how you’re holding up without actually asking. you don’t say anything, but your fingers tighten just a little around the edge of the table, a quiet, unconscious reaction to what you already know is coming.
album of the year.
when bad bunny is announced, the room responds immediately, applause rising as he steps onto the stage with an ease that only comes from having done this before. the weight of the moment sits differently on him—familiar, already lived.
you watch as he approaches the microphone, the envelope in his hand suddenly feeling like the most important object in the room. the cameras cut between nominees, between reactions, between carefully composed expressions that all carry the same underlying tension.
your name is one of them.
on the screen, your face appears for a brief second, composed but softer than it’s been all night. there’s something in your eyes now—something quieter, more vulnerable, harder to hide.
back at the table, your best friend reaches for your hand under the table without looking, her grip trying to steady you.
on stage, he speaks, his voice carrying easily through the room as he acknowledges the category, the artists, the weight of the work being recognized. it stretches the moment just enough to make it feel longer than it actually is, building something in the space between each word.
you try to listen. but your heartbeat is louder.
the envelope opens and bad bunny begins to word out the most anticipated award of the year.
“and the grammy goes to—”
you don’t breathe.
he glances down, then back up, a small smile forming towards you as he reads it clearly into the microphone.
“kiss me, it's temporary… y/n y/l/n.”
for half a second, it doesn’t land.
then the room erupts.
applause crashes over everything, loud and immediate, people rising from their seats as the sound swells into something overwhelming. cheers, whistles, voices calling your name—it all blends together into one continuous wave.
the camera finds you instantly.
on screen, your reaction is unfiltered in a way nothing else tonight has been. your hands come up to your face, shaking your head slightly like you don’t fully believe what you just heard, a breath leaving you that turns into something close to a laugh. your eyes gloss over almost immediately, emotion hitting faster than you can contain it.
you turn to your best friend without thinking, pulling her into a tight hug as she stands with you, her arms wrapping around you just as quickly.
“oh my god,” she murmured into your shoulder, her voice barely audible under the noise around you. “you did it.”
you don’t respond right away. you just hold onto her for a second longer than expected, grounding yourself in something familiar before everything else rushes in.
when you pull back, your eyes are still glassy, your smile uneven but real as you shake your head again, like you’re still trying to catch up to what’s happening. the walk to the stage feels longer than it should.
people reach out as you pass—hands brushing your arm, your shoulder, quick congratulations spoken as you move forward. you nod, you smile, you mouth quiet a 'thank you', but it all feels slightly distant, like you’re moving through it rather than fully inside it.
you’re aware of her.
you don’t look directly, not fully, but you feel it again, that same pull from earlier. the knowledge that she’s there, that she’s watching, that this moment is unfolding not just in front of the world, but in front of her.
you keep moving onto the stage.
the lights are brighter here, warmer, almost blinding compared to the dim glow of the audience. when you reach bad bunny, he’s already smiling, stepping forward to meet you.
“congratulations,” he says as he pulls you into a brief, genuine hug.
“thank you,” you manage, your voice softer than you expect, still catching slightly at the edges.
he hands you the award, solid and real in your hands, heavier than you imagined. for a second, you just look at it then you step forward, positioning yourself in front of the microphone.
the applause is still going, but it starts to settle, fading just enough for the room to hear you when you speak. you take a breath, steadying yourself, your fingers tightening slightly around the base of the trophy. you look out at the room as a whole, your expression soft but overwhelmed, your voice finally breaking through the quiet.
“i… didn’t think this was going to happen.”
a small, breathy laugh follows, your head shaking lightly as the reality of it settles in.
“but thank you. really. this means more than i can even explain right now.”
your voice steadies just enough as you continue, but the emotion doesn’t leave, sitting just beneath every word, making it real in a way nothing else tonight has been.
the award feels steadier in your hands now, even if your heartbeat hasn’t quite caught up yet. you take a moment before speaking again, letting the noise in the room settle just enough for your voice to land clearly.
“first, i just want to thank my fans,” you begin, your gaze lifting toward the audience, though it feels like you’re speaking to something far beyond the room itself. “this album exists because of you. the way you listened to it, the way you understood it, and the way you made it feel bigger than just something i created on my own… it means everything to me.”
your voice carries a quiet warmth now, something more grounded than before as you continue, your fingers adjusting slightly around the award.
“i felt so supported the entire time it was out in the world, and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to fully explain how much that meant, especially with something this personal. so thank you for staying, for listening, and for growing with me.”
the applause that follows is softer than before, but fuller in a different way, and you nod slightly as it fades.
“i also want to thank my label,” you continue, your tone easing into something appreciative. “for believing in this album the way i did, even when it was still—just—ideas and late-night voice notes and things that—didn’t fully make sense yet. you guys gave me the space to figure it out on—my own terms, and that’s something i won't ever take for granted.”
you pause briefly, shifting your weight as the moment moves forward, your expression softening again as you transition into something more personal.
“and my family, and my friends,” you say, your voice quieter now, more intimate. “you’ve seen every version of me through this whole thing—the good days, the really difficult ones, the moments where i didn’t think i had anything left to give—and you stayed anyway.”
your eyes flicker toward your table for just a second, landing on your best friend, who is already watching you with an expression that feels too full to look at for long. you let out a small breath, steadying yourself before continuing, because this next part wasn’t planned in the same careful way as everything else.
“and—um—lastly—”
there’s a slight shift in your posture, subtle but real, like you’re grounding yourself before stepping into something deeper. without letting yourself overthink it, your gaze moves across the room until it finds her.
manon.
this time, you don’t look away.
“and manon,” you say, her name clear and gentle as it carries through the microphone.
there’s a small but immediate reaction in the room, not loud, but noticeable enough to ripple through the audience. you don’t acknowledge it, though. your focus stays where it is, steady and unwavering.
“i’m really grateful for you,” you continue, your voice even but softer in a way that makes the words feel more exposed. “you stood by me through this entire process… through all of it. the long nights, the moments where i didn’t know what i was doing, the times where things felt heavier than i expected them to.”
the room grows quieter as you speak, the weight of your words settling in the space between you and everyone listening.
“you were there for me in ways that mattered more than i can put into words, especially during the difficult times—mentally. and i don’t think this album would be what it is without—you.”
you hold her gaze the entire time, not letting it break, not even for a second.
“and i’ll always be grateful for that. for you”
online, the reaction is immediate.
clips of the moment are already being uploaded, reposted, and dissected in real time, spreading faster than anyone can keep up with. within seconds, the speech is being replayed from multiple angles, zoomed in, slowed down, analyzed frame by frame.
tweets begin stacking rapidly, one after another, the reactions escalating as more people process what just happened.
“WAIT DID SHE JUST THANK MANON???”
“THE EYE CONTACT??? HELLO???”
“EVERYONE STAY CALM—NO ACTUALLY DON’T STAY CALM”
“OUR MOMS ARE LITERALLY MAKING EYE CONTACT RIGHT NOW”
“EVERYONE OUR MOMS ARE ENGAGING WITH ONE ANOTHER I REPEAT OUR MOMS ARE ENGAGING”
“they are NOT over idc what anyone says”
“this is not a thank you this is a full confession”
edits are already forming, clips from earlier in the night being paired with this exact moment, fans drawing connections, building narratives, refusing to let the idea go.
back in the room, though, everything feels quieter, heavier in a way that doesn’t fully match the noise outside of it. your grip on the award tightens slightly before you finally look away, pulling yourself back into the present, back into the stage, back into everything else that still exists beyond that one moment.
you let out a small breath, your expression settling into something softer, more composed as you finish.
“thank you to the recording academy for this. this is… unreal. i'm—i'm really honored.”
the applause rises again, louder now, filling the space as you step back from the microphone.
but even as the moment moves forward, even as the room returns to something louder and more public again, what just happened doesn’t fade. definitely not for manon.
the afterparty hums behind you, all bass and laughter and clinking glasses, but out on the rooftop it softens into something distant, almost manageable. los angeles stretches out below in lights, the skyline blending into the night. it’s quieter here, with the air brushing lightly against your skin as you stand near the railing with a glass of champagne in your hand.
you didn’t leave entirely—you just needed space. something that wasn’t crowded with eyes and expectations and the echo of your own voice replaying that moment on stage.
the speech keeps finding its way back anyway.
you take a small sip, letting the silence settle, letting the city ground you in something steady. for a few seconds, it almost works.
“you always do this.”
her voice is soft, but it lands immediately.
you don’t turn right away. your fingers tighten slightly around the stem of your glass as you exhale, something quiet and controlled leaving you before you glance down briefly. “do what?” you ask, even though you already know.
“step away when it gets too much,” manon says as she moves to stand beside you. there’s no hesitation in the way she closes the distance, like it’s something she’s done a hundred times before. “you don’t make a scene. you just… disappear for a minute.”
now you look at her.
up here, away from the harsher lighting inside, everything about her feels softer, more familiar in a way that catches you off guard. for a second, it’s easy to forget how much time has passed, how much has changed in just a month.
“i didn’t disappear,” you say, your tone quiet but steady. “i just needed some air.”
she nods slightly, accepting that without pushing it, and leans back against the railing. her gaze shifts out toward the city, but you can feel her attention still on you, still present.
“for what it’s worth,” she adds after a moment, “you didn’t look like you needed a second up there.”
there’s something layered in her voice—pride, maybe, or something more complicated than that.
you let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "i did,” you admit. “i just didn’t have the option to show it.”
the space between you settles into a quiet that isn’t uncomfortable, just full of things neither of you is saying yet. the music behind you swells and fades again, carried by the wind, but it doesn’t quite reach where you’re standing.
then she turns slightly toward you.
“your speech…” she starts, her voice quieter now, more careful. “i didn’t expect that.”
you meet her gaze without pretending otherwise. you know exactly which part she means.
“i know,” you say, and there’s no attempt to soften it. both of you standing in it instead of stepping around it. you shift your weight slightly, your grip on the glass loosening just enough to keep yourself grounded.
“it wasn’t planned,” you continue, your voice low but clear. “everything else was. but that part… it just felt wrong not to say it.”
she watches you as you speak, something in her expression tightening before easing again, like she’s trying to hold onto the right reaction without letting too much show.
“i was there because i wanted to be,” she says after a moment. “not because i needed you to say anything.”
“i know,” you reply, almost immediately. “that’s why i said it.”
the silence that follows isn’t empty, but it’s charged, the kind that pulls rather than pushes away. you’re aware of how close she’s standing now, of the way neither of you has moved to create more distance, of how easy it would be to step back and how neither of you does.
manon exhales slowly, her hand brushing along the railing as she looks out at the skyline again, though it feels more like she’s thinking than actually seeing it. when she speaks next, her voice is steadier, but there’s something underneath it that wasn’t there before.
“i think we should try again.”
the words settle between you, simple but heavy enough to shift everything.
for a second, you just look at her.
and then, unexpectedly, you laugh.
it’s not sharp or dismissive—it’s soft, genuine, almost disbelieving in a way that makes your shoulders drop as the tension in your chest loosens all at once. you shake your head slightly, your gaze dipping before lifting back to hers, something warmer settling into your expression.
“yeah,” you say, the answer coming easier than it probably should. “yeah, i think we should too.”
there’s no dramatic movement after that, no immediate rush to close the space in some obvious way. but something shifts anyway, something quiet and certain, like a decision that’s already been made before either of you said it out loud.
you stay where you are, side by side, closer now in a way that feels different from before.
manon lifts her glass slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye before nudging it gently against yours. “told you this would happen.”
the soft clink cuts through the quiet.
you let out another laugh, this one quicker, warmer, as you turn toward her and give her a light, playful nudge with your shoulder. “shut up,” you murmur, the words lacking any real bite.
she smiles—small, but real—and for a second, it feels effortless in a way it hasn’t in a long time.
across the street, several floors down and angled just right—
a camera lens catches the moment.
at first, it’s just another shot of two figures on a rooftop, framed by the glow of the city. but then the angle adjusts, zoom tightening just enough to capture the details—the way you’re facing each other, the way your expression shifts, the moment your head tips back slightly in laughter, the way she’s looking at you like she hasn’t looked away once.
the exact second something changes between you.
there’s no audio, no context, nothing to explain what’s being said.
but visually—
it’s enough.
within minutes, the images are uploaded, passed from one account to another, spreading faster than anyone can keep up with.
online, it erupts all over again.
“WHY IS Y/N LAUGHING LIKE THAT HELLO???”
“THE WAY MANON IS LOOKING AT HER??? IM SICK”
“NOT THEM HAVING A ROMCOM MOMENT ON A ROOFTOP”
“OUR MOMS ARE BACK TOGETHER I DONT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS”
“THIS IS LITERALLY A RECONCILIATION SCENE”
“someone get the girl that can read lips... NOW”
“THEY ARE TOO CLOSE FOR THIS TO BE JUST A TALK”
clips, zoom-ins, slowed footage—it all builds instantly, fueled by everything that already happened earlier that night.
and up on the rooftop, neither of you knows any of that yet.
all you know is that she’s still standing next to you, closer than she’s been in weeks, and for the first time since everything ended, it doesn’t feel like something you have to question.
context. after the massive success of your second album, you throw a star-studded celebration at a private club in downtown la. among the crowd of artists, influencers, and actors is yunjin, who finds herself drawn to you. what starts as glances across the dance floor and a bold first introduction quickly turns into a night of charged tension and chemistry. eventually leading you two stumbling back to your home.
contents. alcohol usage, language, flirting, someone get these two a room, club setting, semi suggestive, power couple in the making
track. aperture - harry styles
the club sat tucked between two taller buildings in downtown los angeles, its exterior unassuming compared to what was happening inside. a black suv pulled up every few minutes, flashes of cameras catching the arrivals before security ushered them through the velvet ropes and into the elevator that led upstairs. by the time midnight crept closer, the entire top floor had turned into something between a party and a cultural moment.
your party.
the space itself was dim but alive with color—deep lights cutting through the haze, thin beams of neon bouncing off mirrored panels. one entire wall was made of glass, revealing the glowing la skyline stretching endlessly into the night. the bass from the speakers pulsed through the floor so strongly that it could be felt before it could be heard, vibrating through the crowd like a second heartbeat.
your management had spared absolutely no expense.
a dj booth stood slightly elevated above the center of the room, glowing beneath strips of led lighting while bartenders worked nonstop along a long marble bar. groups of people gathered in clusters—some dancing, some laughing loudly over drinks, others leaning against the railings filming the moment for their followers.
and the guest list?
it read like the internet’s algorithm had been brought to life.
billie stood near the bar in a jersey, talking animatedly with stassie while someone recorded them laughing over something on a phone screen. across the room, quen had already taken control of a corner couch, half filming a chaotic story while pulling people into the frame. tyrell hampton moved through the crowd with a small camera slung around his neck, stopping every few minutes to snap candid photos of whoever happened to be nearby.
on the dance floor, charli xcx had claimed a patch of space with a few friends, already dancing like the night had been going for hours. neanwhile, odessa leaned casually against a railing near the balcony doors, smoking with a small group that included adela, their voices occasionally breaking into loud laughter that carried over the music.
but tonight wasn’t about them.
tonight was about you.
your second album had dropped only a week earlier and it had already exploded in ways even your label hadn’t fully predicted. songs climbing global charts overnight. clips spreading across tiktok like wildfire. billboard placements stacking faster than anyone expected.
two albums in—and suddenly everyone was calling you the pop princess of the moment.
it was ridiculous.
and somehow… also true.
across the room, the members of le sserafim had arrived together not long ago, quickly blending into the crowd of artists and creators. people had recognized them immediately, conversations sparking naturally as they moved around the room.
but while the others were comfortably socializing, one of them had noticed something different.
yunjin stood beside odessa near the glass wall, one elbow resting casually on the railing while she watched the room unfold. she’d already spoken to a handful of people—quen for a few minutes, tyrell briefly while he asked for a quick photo, and adela when they ended up waiting at the bar together.
still, her attention kept drifting somewhere else. because every few minutes the crowd parted just slightly and you appeared somewhere new in the room. laughing with someone near the bar and draping an arm over someone’s shoulders on the dance floor. leaning in close while someone spoke into your ear over the music.
it wasn’t that you were trying to be the center of attention.
you just naturally were.
yunjin watched as you slipped through another group of friends, your outfit catching the glow of the club lights every time you moved. the black off-the-shoulder top hugged your frame perfectly, the soft fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder in that effortless way that looked more accidental than styled. your mini skirt hugged your hips, the tiger-striped pattern bold under the shifting lights while the thin drawstring hung loosely at the front.
your knee-high boots added just enough height to the way you carried yourself, confident but relaxed, like the entire night belonged to you without you needing to prove it.
your hair fell down your back in loose waves, strands catching flashes of purple and blue lighting as you moved.
someone handed you a drink.
you took it with a grin.
then, suddenly, someone from your team appeared beside the dj booth and motioned toward you. a cheer started almost instantly once people realized what was happening.
you laughed when you noticed the attention turning toward you, raising one eyebrow like you weren’t entirely sure if you should encourage it or run the other direction. eventually, though, you handed your drink to someone beside you and made your way toward the small set of steps leading to the dj platform.
the moment you climbed up, the energy in the room shifted.
the dj lowered the music slightly, sliding the microphone across the turntables toward you while people began crowding closer to the platform.
phones appeared.
lights flickered on.
someone shouted your name from the dance floor.
you picked up the mic, glancing over the room with a smile that was equal parts amused and grateful.
“okay—okay,” you said, laughing softly as the crowd quieted just enough to hear you. “first of all… the fact that this many of you actually showed up tonight is insane.”
you leaned one hip casually against the turntables, clearly comfortable even with hundreds of eyes now locked on you.
“i’m serious,” you continued, sweeping your gaze across the crowd. “when my management started planning this they were like—‘invite people, it’ll be good for the optics.’”
you made exaggerated air quotes with one hand which made a few people in the audience groaned playfully.
“but honestly,” you said, your tone softening slightly as you looked out across the room again, “most of you here are just… my friends.”
there was a small swell of cheers at that.
“which makes this way cooler than some industry thing where everyone pretends they like each other.”
more laughter rolled through the crowd, louder this time. you glanced down for a moment, clearly trying not to smile too big before lifting the microphone again.
“my second album dropped a week ago,” you continued. “and you guys somehow decided to absolutely lose your minds about it.”
someone started whooping from somewhere near the bar.
you immediately pointed at them with mock accusation, “don’t start that tonight.”
“but seriously,” you added, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear while the room slowly settled again. “i mean this. i’m really grateful for everyone in this room. the artists, the actors, the chaos gremlins…”
your eyes drifted briefly toward quen, who immediately started cheering louder when she realized you were looking in her direction, “…and whoever managed to sneak in,” you finished, smirking.
then you lifted the microphone again, that same sharp little edge creeping back into your voice.
“so thank you for coming.”
you paused just long enough for the room to quiet again. your grin widened slightly.
“…now let’s get fucked up.”
the dj slammed the music back to full volume instantly and the crowd exploded with an energy that couldn't be replicated.
cheers, whistles, phones flying back into the air as the beat crashed through the room once more. you hopped down from the dj booth with the same easy confidence you’d climbed up with, disappearing almost immediately into the swarm of friends rushing over to hug you and drag you back toward the bar.
and across the room—
yunjin realized she’d been watching the entire thing without looking away once, she let out a quiet breath, eyes still following you through the room. because somehow, in a club filled with some of the most recognizable faces of the moment—
you were still the one everyone kept looking at.
someone from your team reached you first, wrapping you in a quick hug and leaning in to say something close to your ear over the music. you nodded along while listening, smiling faintly before responding with a short comment that made them laugh. a moment later, addison appeared from the side and immediately threw both arms around your shoulders in a dramatic greeting, the kind that nearly knocked the drink out of your hand.
your reaction was instant. you laughed, leaning sideways slightly from the impact before pushing her shoulder in playful retaliation.
nearby, quen had already lifted her phone, filming the interaction with a mission to get this on camera. the moment you noticed the camera pointed toward you, you leaned a little closer to the lens and flashed a grin quick and natural as the neon lights flickered across your face.
quen burst into loud laughter and swung the camera back toward herself, clearly talking to whoever would watch the video later. even from across the room, it was easy to see the exaggerated excitement in her gestures.
yunjin watched the exchange quietly, her gaze following the small movements almost without realizing it. there was something about the way you carried yourself that made the entire interaction feel effortless. you weren’t trying to perform for the camera or command the attention of the room. you simply existed within it in a way that people seemed to love.
beside her, odessa leaned comfortably against the railing, observing the crowd with the relaxed demeanor of someone who had already accepted that the night would probably grow increasingly chaotic.
after a moment, odessa glanced sideways.
“you’ve been watching her for a while.”
yunjin blinked, briefly shifting her gaze away as if she had just been pulled out of a thought she hadn’t realized she was having.
“i’m just looking around,” she replied, though the answer lacked much conviction.
odessa’s expression made it clear she didn’t believe that explanation for a second, but she didn’t press further. instead, her attention returned toward the dance floor just as the lighting in the club shifted again, deep color flooding the space as the dj transitioned into another track.
the change in music seemed to ripple outward through the crowd.
and suddenly you weren’t standing at the bar anymore.
someone—most likely charli judging by the flash of wavy black hair and chaotic energy—had grabbed your hand and pulled you into the middle of the dance floor. the group around you erupted into motion almost immediately, bodies swaying and turning beneath the flashing lights as the bass pounded through the speakers.
yunjin’s eyes followed the movement almost automatically.
you danced the way someone did when they weren’t worried about how they looked. one hand remained loosely wrapped around your drink while the other occasionally pushed your hair back from your face or lifted briefly in rhythm with the music. there was an easy confidence in the way you moved, not choreographed or exaggerated, just relaxed.
that, somehow made it more noticeable.
people nearby were glancing toward you even while dancing themselves. conversations paused for a moment longer than usual when you passed through a group. even those who had arrived as big names themselves seemed content letting the moment orbit around you.
a few feet away from yunjin, tyrell walked through the crowd with a camera slung around his neck. when he noticed the cluster forming around the dance floor, he slowed slightly, lifting the camera and snapping a few quick shots in your direction.
the soft clicking of the shutter barely carried over the music.
he lowered the camera again after a moment, shaking his head with a small amused smile before moving on through the room.
yunjin remained still where she stood, her attention drifting back toward you again almost immediately.
it wasn’t just that you were the focus of the party. plenty of people in the room were used to attention. it was more the subtle details in the way you interacted with the people around you—the way you leaned in when someone spoke, the quick changes in your expression when something genuinely amused you, the casual way you rested a hand briefly on someone’s shoulder while listening.
those small gestures made every interaction feel personal.
at one point, someone said something that caught you completely off guard. even from across the floor, yunjin could see the way your head tipped back slightly as laughter escaped you, one hand briefly pressing against your stomach like you were trying to recover from laughing too hard.
for a moment the scene felt oddly quiet to watch, despite the noise surrounding it. then, as the laughter faded, you straightened again and lifted your drink for a small sip.
your eyes drifted upward across the room.
they moved slowly, scanning over the crowd without any particular focus—until they paused briefly in the direction where yunjin stood.
it was probably accidental. with so many people in the room, it was unlikely you were actually looking at any one person for long. still, the brief moment of alignment made yunjin’s attention sharpen slightly.
the pause was short.
someone grabbed your arm again almost immediately, pulling you into another conversation with a group that had just approached you. your attention shifted back toward them as easily as before, a smile returning as you leaned closer to hear whatever they were saying.
beside yunjin, odessa noticed the moment as well.
she tilted her head slightly as she blew smoke out her mouth.
“i think she looked over here.”
yunjin gave a quiet huff of disbelief, though her eyes had already returned to where you now stood at the bar again, talking with quen and gabriette while someone slid another drink toward you across the counter.
“she wasn’t looking at me,” yunjin said, though the statement sounded more like a casual dismissal than a serious argument.
odessa remained leaned against the railing with the casual posture of someone who had spent plenty of nights exactly like this. a cigarette rested between her fingers, the faint glow at its tip occasionally brightening when she took a slow drag.
the cigarette burned low between her fingers before she finally flicked it downward, pressing the end against the small metal ashtray mounted to the railing. the ember disappeared with a soft hiss as she crushed it out and tossed the stub aside.
yunjin didn’t notice the movement at first. her focus remained on the bar across the room, where you had just tilted your head back slightly in laughter again.
odessa glanced at her once more. then she reached out and gave yunjin’s shoulder a brief, firm pat..
odessa had already started stepping away, slipping easily into the current of people moving toward the dance floor. but before she disappeared fully into the crowd, she leaned slightly closer, her voice just loud enough to carry over the music.
“she’s not gonna come to you first.”
by the time yunjin turned her head to respond, odessa was already gone, her dark hair disappearing between clusters of people moving toward the center of the room.
yunjin stood there for a moment longer than necessary, processing the comment. her gaze drifted back across the club almost instinctively.
it wasn’t hard to see why people were drawn to you. yunjin exhaled slowly, finishing the last sip of her drink before setting the empty glass down on the nearby ledge. she finally stepped away from the railing and began moving through the crowd in your direction.
yunjin had to weave through conversations and dancers, occasionally turning her shoulders sideways to slip past someone without knocking into them.
as she moved deeper into the center of the room, the bass felt stronger under her feet, the lights brighter and more chaotic as they flashed over the dance floor. the scent of spilled drinks and perfume hung in the air, mixed with the faint haze drifting beneath the ceiling lights.
by the time she reached the bar, the crowd there was just as dense.
the space around you had opened up slightly, leaving you leaning casually against the marble counter with one hip resting against it, drink balanced loosely in your hand.
you were listening to charli finish a story, nodding along with a half-smile while she gestured dramatically with both hands. when she finally laughed at the end of whatever point she was making, she squeezed your shoulder quickly before disappearing back toward the dance floor again.
for the first time in a while, you were momentarily alone.
yunjin slipped into the empty space beside you without making a show of it, resting one forearm lightly against the bar as she caught the bartender’s attention.
“martini, please,” she said, her voice steady over the music.
the bartender nodded and turned away to prepare it.
for a second, yunjin focused on the bar itself—the condensation rings on the marble, the reflection of neon lights rippling across the polished surface. it gave her a brief moment to collect herself after crossing the room.
then she felt it.
that small, almost instinctive awareness people sometimes get when someone’s attention shifts toward them. you had noticed her.
your head turned slightly, curiosity flickering across your expression as you took in the unfamiliar face that had appeared beside you. the recognition came almost immediately—subtle, but visible in the way your eyebrows lifted just a touch.
your posture straightened slightly as well, the natural poise you carried returning without effort. it was the same warm energy you had on stage or in interviews, the kind that made every interaction feel welcoming without losing that confident edge. a bright smile spread across your face
“oh my gosh—hi.”
your voice carried easily over the music, friendly and genuine as if you had already decided you were glad she’d walked over.
for a brief moment, the rest of the noise in the club faded into the background of yunjin’s awareness.
up close, the lighting caught different details than it had from across the room—the subtle shimmer in your eye makeup, the way your hair fell over one shoulder where the neckline of your black top slipped slightly lower. the skirt moved faintly as you shifted your weight against the bar, one boot hooked lightly around the leg of the stool beside you.
you looked exactly like the center of the party.
but your attention right now was focused entirely on her.
yunjin blinked once, momentarily thrown by how natural the greeting felt.
then she smiled back.
“hi,” she replied, her tone warm but calm, like she was trying very hard not to seem as aware of the moment as she actually was.
the bartender slid the martini in front of her just then, condensation already forming along the glass.
“i’m yunjin,” she added after a second, nodding slightly toward you.
the introduction felt unnecessary almost the moment it left her mouth.
you moved easily into her space, arms lifting without hesitation as you pulled her into a quick hug. it wasn’t overly dramatic or drawn out, just the kind of natural greeting someone gave a friend they were genuinely happy to see. your perfume lingered faintly in the moment between you before you pulled back again, your hands resting briefly on her arms as you looked at her properly.
“of course i know who you are,” you said cheerfully.
the warmth in your voice matched the bright grin still on your face, your tone relaxed despite the constant movement of the party happening around you. the music pulsed through the floor beneath your boots, lights flickering across your hair as people continued pushing past behind you to order drinks.
still, your attention stayed on yunjin.
“i'm so glad you could make it,” you continued, brushing a strand of hair back over your shoulder. “i’m sorry for the late notice of the party when my management sent the invites out.”
the apology came out casually, but there was a sincerity to it that didn’t feel rehearsed. you leaned back against the bar again as you spoke, resting your elbow against the marble counter while lifting your drink for a small sip.
“you guys have been everywhere lately,” you added, your eyes briefly scanning her face with an interested kind of curiosity. “i didn’t even know if you’d still be in the city when they sent the invitations.”
yunjin let out a small breath of amusement at that, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “we almost weren’t,” she admitted, finally picking up her martini. “schedules changed last minute.”
her gaze flicked over your shoulder briefly, taking in the endless movement of the room around you before settling back on you again, “but i’m glad we stayed.”
you hummed thoughtfully at that, clearly pleased with the answer.
behind you, the dj transitioned into another song, the beat shifting slightly as a new track rolled through the speakers. a fresh wave of cheers rose from the dance floor as people recognized it.
neither of you moved.
your eyes were just as attentive as they had seemed from a distance. then your grin returned again, playful this time, “i’ve been meaning to say hi to you actually,” you said.
your head tilted slightly as you looked at her.
“i just… haven’t stopped moving all night.”
yunjin let out a soft laugh at that, glancing briefly toward the crowd surrounding the dance floor before looking back at you.
“i noticed.”
you followed her glance for a moment, watching the chaos unfolding around the room and when your eyes returned to yunjin, your smile softened slightly.
"well,” you said, lifting your glass lightly in her direction, “i’m glad you came over.”
you studied her face for a second longer than most people might have in passing conversation, the smile on your lips relaxed and genuine. up close, she looked slightly different than she did on stage or in photos—less guarded somehow, even while maintaining the calm composure she seemed to carry naturally.
your eyes flicked briefly over her features, as if quietly confirming the recognition that had sparked earlier.
then your expression brightened again.
“oh—”
you straightened slightly from where you were leaning against the bar, the realization clearly hitting you mid-thought.
“congrats, by the way,” you said, your voice warm with enthusiasm. “on the spaghetti single.”
you tilted your head just a little, your smile widening into something almost sheepish, like you were admitting something you didn’t mind being teased for.
“i’m actually in love.”
the confession came out casually, but the sincerity in your tone made it obvious you meant it. you lifted your drink for another small sip afterward, still watching her over the rim of the glass.
for a split second, yunjin looked almost surprised.
not dramatically but enough that the reaction flickered across her face before she could smooth it back into her usual composure. compliments weren’t exactly rare in this industry, especially in rooms like this, but something about the way you said it made the moment feel more personal than polite.
she let out a quiet laugh under her breath.
“really?”
her fingers shifted slightly around her glass as she leaned one shoulder against the bar beside you, mirroring your relaxed posture without realizing it.
your eyebrows lifted immediately, almost offended by the mild disbelief.
“yeah, really,” you said, nudging the rim of your glass lightly against the counter for emphasis. “i’ve had it on repeat for like… three days.”
your eyes flicked upward briefly as if mentally counting, “actually—four.”
yunjin’s smile grew a little wider at that.
across the room, a sudden burst of cheering erupted as someone recognized the new song the dj had started playing, but neither of you looked away from each other long enough to check what caused it.
“you’re serious,” she said, sounding slightly more amused now.
“why would i lie about something that specific?” you replied immediately.
there was a playful energy in your voice now, the kind that came naturally when you felt comfortable with someone.
“and don’t act surprised,” you added. “everyone’s obsessed with it.”
yunjin shook her head slightly, a soft laugh escaping her again as she lifted her drink for the first sip since arriving at the bar.
“well,” she said after swallowing, her eyes drifting back toward you.
“i’m glad it passed the pop princess test.”
the nickname slipped into the conversation so smoothly it almost sounded casual.
your reaction, however, was immediate. your eyes narrowed slightly in mock suspicion, though the grin tugging at your mouth gave away that you weren’t actually offended.
“oh no,” you said slowly, "you’re one of them”
the moment yunjin opened her mouth to reply, movement swept into the space beside you. the energy shifted so abruptly that both of you instinctively turned your heads toward it.
tyrell appeared like a hawk swooping in on prey, practically materializing out of the crowd. his small camera hung from his wrist, one hand already lifted as though he could snap the perfect shot at any second.
“oh my god,” he began, voice sharp and urgent, “do not move. i need this.”
you laughed immediately, tilting your head back slightly at his dramatic tone. “ty—”
“nope,” he interrupted, already stepping back a few paces to frame both of you perfectly in his lens. “absolutely not. this is a cultural moment.”
yunjin raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips, though amusement had already softened her usual calm. “what’s happening?” she asked quietly, glancing between you and tyrell as if bracing for chaos.
tyrell moved slightly to the side to adjust the lighting, making sure the neon from the dance floor caught both of you just right. “this is going to break the internet,” he said, shaking his head with a mixture of awe and mock-seriousness. “do you understand what you two standing here together means?”
you groaned, covering part of your face with your hand while laughing softly. “i'm so sorry. he gets like this sometimes.”
yunjin chuckled, shaking her head lightly. “it’s fine,” she said, her voice calm but amused. she watched as tyrell waved his hands dramatically, clearly impatient with the both of you.
“you two are standing like coworkers right now,” he said sharply. “i need more energy. closer.”
you turned slightly toward yunjin, brushing your shoulder gently against hers as you adjusted your position. it wasn’t forced—just casual, natural, a subtle nudge of closeness as you angled yourself toward the camera.
tyrell squinted through his lens, muttering to himself before stepping back. “almost. you’re too calm."
both of you exchanged a quick glance, a shared flicker of amusement passing silently between you. then you turned your heads toward each other just slightly, the contact of your gaze enough to shift the energy in the small space around the bar.
tyrell’s grin spread when he snapped the first shot. click. then another. click. each flash caught the glimmer of the club lights reflecting off your hair, the subtle curve of your smiles, the small, natural ease of the moment.
h e lowered the camera slowly after a few more shots, staring at the images on his small screen as if he could not quite process them. “oh,” he said finally, his voice thick with disbelief. “this is literally it.”
you exchanged a brief look with yunjin, both of you laughing quietly at his intensity. despite the pounding music and chaos of the club, the three of you had created a bubble of focus, the moment suspended in a way that felt both intimate and monumental.
without another word, he lifted his thumb in a quick gesture of approval, like a silent perfect. the movement was quick and confident, a small stamp of completion on whatever chaotic mission had brought him over in the first place.
before either of you could react, he leaned forward suddenly and pressed a quick kiss to yunjin’s cheek.
it was fast, friendly, and completely casual—the kind of affectionate greeting people in his circle gave without thinking twice, “nice to meet you, i'm literally so obsessed with you.” he added as he straightened again, already beginning to step backward into the moving crowd.
then he pointed briefly between the two of you with a grin that suggested he knew exactly what kind of moment he’d interrupted.
“don’t move too far,” he said. “i might need a round two later.”
with that, tyrell hampton slipped back into the flow of people moving through the club, disappearing almost as quickly as he had appeared.
the space around the bar settled again.
for a second, the two of you simply stood there, the echo of his sudden energy fading back into the rhythm of the party. the music was louder now, the dance floor visibly more packed as people crowded closer together beneath the shifting lights.
you watched tyrell vanish into the crowd for a moment, the corner of your mouth lifting in quiet amusement.
then you turned back toward yunjin.
the curiosity in your expression softened your features slightly, your head tilting just a little as if you were studying her again. the neon lights shined along the edge of your cheekbone while the off-shoulder neckline of your top shifted as you leaned back against the bar.
your smile returned to warm, playful, and unmistakably inviting, “up for a dance?”
the question came easily, like it was the most natural next step in the world. across the room, the dance floor pulsed beneath the lights, bodies moving together while the dj drove the beat deeper into the night.
yunjin glanced briefly in that direction and then back at you.
“i think i am.”
“well,” you said lightly, mostly to yourself.
you tipped a shot glass full of tequila back in one smooth motion, finishing the shot before the burn had time to settle. your face scrunched briefly in reaction as you swallowed, the expression quick but honest before you exhaled and set the empty glass back down against the marble surface with a soft tap.
yunjin watched the entire thing unfold with quiet amusement.
you slid off the bar stool the next second, boots hitting the floor with a confident thud as you turned back toward her. the movement brought you a step closer than before, the neon lights catching faintly along the loose waves of your hair.
then you extended your hand.
your smile had shifted slightly—still bright, still easy, but now carrying a little more intention behind it. there was something undeniably charismatic about it, the kind of invitation that felt less like a question.
“come on.”
the gesture hung between you for half a second.
yunjin’s gaze dropped briefly to your hand before lifting back to your face.
up close, your confidence wasn’t overwhelming the way it might have seemed from across the room. it was warm. welcoming. the kind of presence that made people want to step closer instead of pulling away.
it made her stomach flutter.
the feeling caught her slightly off guard, though it only showed in the faintest shift in her expression before a small smile spread across her lips.
she reached forward and took your hand.
your fingers closed around hers naturally, warm and steady as you turned immediately toward the dance floor. the crowd parted just enough for you to guide her through, weaving between moving bodies while the bass pounded through the room.
yunjin let herself be pulled along without resistance, her grip tightening slightly as you navigated through the shifting crowd.
ahead of you, the dance floor glowed beneath the shifting lights, people moving in waves beneath the dj booth.
the moment you pulled yunjin into the center of the dance floor, the energy shifted again.
the music felt different than it did at the bar. the bass wasn’t just something you heard—it lived in the floor beneath your feet, vibrating up through your boots and into your chest. the dj had just blended into a new track, something smooth and hypnotic, driven by a deep, steady beat layered with airy synths that floated above it. it had that late-night groove that pulled people in slowly rather than demanding attention all at once.
the lights above swept across the crowd in waves of violet and blue, catching on raised hands and the occasional flash of someone’s phone camera.
you released yunjin’s hand once you reached the center of the floor, but the space between you stayed close. people danced around you, bodies swaying and turning, yet there was still just enough room for the two of you to move without bumping into anyone.
the rhythm settled into your body almost instantly.
you tipped your head back slightly as the beat rolled through the speakers, letting your shoulders loosen while your hips began to follow the groove of the song. the movement came naturally, smooth and controlled, the kind that didn’t look forced because it wasn’t.
your hips rolled slowly to the rhythm, winding in time with the bass while one hand brushed back through your hair. the tiger-striped skirt shifted with each motion, the pattern catching the flashes of light as your boots slid lightly against the floor.
across from you, yunjin had already closed her eyes for a moment.
she tilted her head slightly from side to side as if physically leaning into the music, letting the beat guide the way her body moved. the controlled composure she carried earlier dissolving into something far more relaxed.
the song had that kind of pull.
it didn’t ask for attention—it coaxed it out slowly.
you noticed the change immediately.
a grin tugged at the corner of your mouth as you watched her start to move more comfortably with the rhythm, her head tilting again as she let herself sink deeper into the groove. she had a natural sense of timing, the kind that came from someone who understood music instinctively.
your hips circled again with the beat, a little slower this time, the movement smooth and unhurried.
yunjin opened her eyes just as you did it.
for a brief moment, the two of you locked onto each other again in the middle of the flashing lights and moving bodies.
the crowd around you blurred into motion, but the rhythm between the two of you stayed perfectly in sync with the music. yunjin’s smile grew slightly as she caught the way you were moving, the confidence in your posture, the playful ease in your expression.
she shifted her weight forward just a little, letting her shoulders follow the beat while her head dipped again to the rhythm. the track built gradually, the bassline deepening while the synths layered softly over it like distant echoes. your body followed every shift naturally.
your hips rolled again, slower this time, your head tilting to the side as you leaned into the groove of the music. one hand lifted briefly into the air, fingers brushing through your hair again while your other hand rested loosely near your hip.
yunjin soon realized something quietly.
it wasn’t just the music making her stomach flutter now.
you began head nodding gently with the rhythm while your shoulders loosened, your body following the groove with an ease that came naturally rather than intentionally. after a moment, you tilted your head upward toward the ceiling lights, letting them wash across your face as you closed your eyes for a brief second. the alcohol sitting lightly in your system softened everything just enough—the music felt heavier in your chest, the lights blurred at the edges, and the constant motion of the crowd faded into something distant and unimportant.
a quiet smile settled onto your lips as you let the music guide your body.
your hips moved slowly with the bassline, winding in smooth circles that matched the tempo of the track. the movement wasn’t exaggerated or showy. it was relaxed, the kind of dancing that happened when someone stopped thinking about how they looked and simply let the rhythm carry them.
and yunjin watched you carefully.
eventually your gaze drifted back down from the ceiling lights, landing on her again.
your eyes carried that soft, hazy warmth that came with a few drinks and a good song. when you met her gaze, you nodded slightly in time with the music, the small smile still resting on your lips while your hips continued moving slowly with the rhythm.
then you lifted your hands toward her.
the gesture was simple but intentional. your palms opened toward her in invitation, held just long enough that she understood exactly what you meant.
yunjin placed her hands into yours without hesitation, her fingers briefly fitting against yours before you guided them upward. your hands slid gently along her arms, moving them into place until her palms rested comfortably on your shoulders.
once they were there, you let your own hands settle at her waist.
the movement was smooth and natural, almost blending into the rhythm of the dance itself. from the outside it would have looked completely ordinary. people danced like this in clubs all the time—friends leaning into each other while moving with the music, bodies swaying together without much thought.
anyone watching would have seen nothing unusual.
but the moment your hands rested against her waist, the space between the two of you shifted.
you were closer now, close enough that the movement of your bodies began to sync without either of you consciously trying. the slow winding motion of your hips guided the rhythm between you while yunjin adjusted her grip slightly on your shoulders, her fingers settling there more comfortably as she leaned into the beat.
her body followed yours almost automatically.
the bass pulsed through both of you as the music carried on, your movements aligning in a quiet, shared rhythm while the crowd continued to dance all around you. your hips rolled slowly with the song, and yunjin mirrored the motion without even realizing it at first.
from the outside, it looked like two people dancing the way close friends often did in crowded clubs.
but the intention behind it was something only the two of you could feel.
the way you had pulled her closer without making it obvious.
neither of you spoke because neither of you needed to, to understand this.
the touch, the closeness, the rhythm you had fallen into together wasn’t accidental. it was the first move.
then you shifted closer.
it wasn’t abrupt or dramatic. it happened gradually, the kind of subtle movement that could easily go unnoticed by anyone else in the room. your hands tightened slightly at her waist as you guided her forward, closing the distance between you until there was barely any space left at all.
yunjin felt the change immediately.
her hands adjusted slightly on your shoulders, her fingers curling more securely against the fabric of your top as she leaned with the motion you were guiding. the closeness made the heat of the dance floor feel stronger, the music louder somehow, the moment more focused.
your bodies were almost pressed together now, still moving with the slow rhythm of the track.
the neon lights flickered across both of you, briefly illuminating the way your hair fell forward as you leaned in closer. your head tilted slightly, bringing your lips near her ear so your voice could reach her over the music.
your breath brushed lightly against her skin when you spoke.
“is this okay?”
the words were soft but clear, carried close enough that she could hear them despite the bass vibrating through the room. your hands didn’t move from her waist, but the way you held her loosened just enough to give her space to pull away if she wanted to.
it was a quiet check-in in the middle of the chaos of the club.
yunjin felt the question settle in her chest for a moment.
her heart had already picked up somewhere between the walk to the dance floor and the moment your hands had guided hers onto your shoulders. now, with you this close, the feeling was impossible to ignore.
her grip on your shoulders tightened slightly.
instead of pulling away, she leaned just a fraction closer, letting her head tilt toward yours so you could hear her response without needing to raise her voice.
“yeah,” she said softly.
her lips curved into a small smile that you could almost hear in her tone.
when you pulled back from her ear, the space between your faces was still impossibly small.
the music continued to pulse around you, thick and steady, but for a moment it felt like the rest of the dance floor had softened into the background. the lights swept over the crowd in slow waves of violet and blue, catching briefly on your hair and the curve of yunjin’s jaw as the two of you continued moving together.
your hips never stopped following the rhythm.
they wound slowly with the beat, guiding the shared motion between you while your hands remained warm at her waist. the movement had become almost hypnotic now—subtle, smooth, instinctive.
when your eyes met again, the intensity of it was different than before.
neither of you looked away.
yunjin understood the shift instantly.
there was something unspoken hanging between the two of you now, something playful but deliberate. the kind of tension that came when both people realized they were stepping into the same moment at the same time.
her hands slid slowly from where they rested on your shoulders, the movement gradual enough that it blended into the rhythm of the dance. her palms traced lightly along your arms before lifting higher, settling gently at the sides of your neck.
the contact was warm but careful.
one of her thumbs brushed softly along the column of your throat, the movement almost absentminded as the beat continued to guide the sway of both of your bodies. the touch wasn’t forceful or possessive—just curious, exploratory, like she was testing the new closeness between you.
you didn’t stop dancing.
your hips continued moving with the same smooth rhythm as before, but your gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips now, the playful spark returning to your expression. the faint haze from the drinks you’d had earlier softened your focus just enough to make the moment feel even more surreal.
for a second, neither of you spoke.
then your smile curved slowly into something more mischievous.
“i don’t think this was a good idea,” you said.
your voice carried just enough humor to reveal that you didn’t mean it the way the words sounded. the grin tugging at your mouth made it clear you were enjoying the situation far too much to actually regret it.
contact still there on your throat to remind you both how close you were standing.
and you were very close.
close enough to see the subtle shift of her expression each time your eyes flickered down toward her lips before returning to her gaze.
there was something in the way the two of you looked at each other now—something heavier than simple flirting but still held back by a thread of restraint.
a kind of quiet neediness.
the lights shifted again, washing briefly over both of your faces. in the glow it became easier to see the faint flush that had settled across your cheeks. the dancing, the alcohol humming softly through your systems, the closeness of the moment—all of it had warmed your skin just enough to make the color obvious.
yunjin’s face carried the same warmth.
her breathing had slowed slightly, but her eyes hadn’t left yours.
your hands remained at her waist, steady there as your bodies continued swaying with the music. the beat rolled through the speakers again, deeper this time, and your hips followed the rhythm without thought.
the movement brought you just a fraction closer again.
for a moment it felt like the world around you had narrowed down to the two of you standing there in the middle of the dance floor, the noise of the club fading into something distant while the tension between you lingered.
neither of you spoke.
the tension between you had stretched into something almost fragile.
your bodies still moved with the music, slow and synchronized, but the space between your faces had grown even smaller without either of you consciously deciding it should. the bassline rolled through the room again, low and steady, vibrating faintly through your chest while the lights swept across the crowded dance floor.
your gaze dropped briefly to yunjin’s lips.
then back to her eyes.
something in your expression shifted—less teasing now, more certain.
you began to lean in.
it wasn’t sudden or impulsive. the movement was slow enough that she could see it coming, your body tipping forward just slightly as your hand remained steady at her waist.
for a fraction of a second, it looked like you were going to close the last few inches between you.
but yunjin reacted quickly.
a soft laugh escaped her as she lifted one hand from your neck and pressed her palm lightly against the center of your chest, stopping you before the distance disappeared completely. the gesture wasn’t rough—it was gentle, almost playful but it held enough firmness to pause the moment.
she smiled at you.
“not here,” she said, her voice warm but steady despite the music surrounding you.
her eyes held yours as she added, a little softer, “plus… i think it’s just the drinks talking.”
for a moment you didn’t move.
then you shook your head slowly.
the smile that returned to your face was quieter now, but it carried a kind of certainty that hadn’t been there before. instead of stepping back, you leaned slightly forward again but this time not toward her lips, but toward the hand she had placed against your chest.
your movement was slow enough that she didn’t pull away.
your head tilted just slightly as you leaned into the warmth of her palm, letting it rest there against you while your eyes stayed locked with hers.
“it’s not the drinks,” you said, “it’s you.”
✵
the car had rolled up the winding driveway to your mansion without either of you really noticing, the quiet of the early morning contrasting sharply with the pulsing chaos of the club hours earlier. music, laughter, and the haze of drinks had melted into something almost dreamlike, leaving only the two of you together, riding the lingering warmth of the night.
by the time you reached the front door, the tension that had been simmering since the dance floor had become impossible to ignore. yunjin’s hand found yours almost instinctively, gripping your wrist and pulling you toward her. you barely had time to react before her lips were on yours.
the kiss was sudden and consuming, a release of all the restraint that had built up between you over the past hours. it was messy in the best possible way, urgent yet careful, demanding and giving all at once.
yunjin moved forward just enough to close the tall front door with her foot, shutting out the quiet street outside. the sound of it thudding against the frame echoed faintly in the foyer, but neither of you paused. her hands came to rest on your waist, pulling you against her as your own found the curve of her back. your breaths mingled, warm and shallow, as the two of you stumbled backward together.
the back of your legs bumped the edge of the small foyer table, the motion tipping over a decorative bowl. it wobbled across the surface and came to a stop, a soft clatter marking the clumsiness of the moment.
you caught yourself on yunjin’s shoulders, steadying yourself against the stumble, and for a brief second, both of you paused.
the pause lasted only a moment before the corner of yunjin’s mouth lifted into a quiet, breathless smile. you could feel the same grin tugging at your lips, the shared understanding that the moment had been inevitable finally breaking into something tangible.
she leaned in again, her hand sliding from your waist to cup the side of your face, tilting your head slightly as the kiss deepened. your back pressed lightly against the table now, its cool surface grounding you while the world outside seemed to fall away.
yunjin stepped back slightly, letting her eyes sweep over the expanse of your home as she took in the foyer. her hand still lingered lightly on your chest, but she had enough distance now to fully absorb the space around her.
a soft exhale escaping her lips. “lead the wa—woah… holy shit,” she murmured, her voice catching in awe. she looked up, then around, scanning the sweeping staircase that curved elegantly to the second floor, the polished marble floors that reflected the faint glow of recessed lighting, and the modern, art-filled decor that gave the space an air of effortless sophistication.
her fingers drifted from your chest and lightly brushed along her own arm as if to steady herself from the sudden sensory overload. “this… this is insane,” she breathed out, her eyes still darting from the grand chandelier hanging above to the tall windows overlooking the city below.
the moonlight spilling in highlighted the sleek lines of the architecture, casting soft shadows that made the space feel almost cinematic.
you couldn’t help but laugh softly at her reaction, the corners of your lips tugging up. “impressive, right?” you asked, your voice teasing but low, carrying just enough warmth to make the words feel personal despite the grandeur surrounding you.
yunjin turned her gaze back to you, eyes wide and sparkling, a smile tugging at her lips. her admiration was obvious.
she tilted her head slightly, the awe in her expression mixing with the way your presence made everything around her feel electric. “i… wow. this place is beautiful,” she finally whispered, voice soft, as she let herself take a small step forward again.
yunjin was still looking around the foyer, her gaze drifting from the high ceilings to the long stretch of windows that overlooked the dark hillside outside. even in the soft lighting of the house, everything felt enormous. carefully placed artwork, the that curved upward toward the second floor.
she shook her head softly, still a little stunned.
“i mean it,” she said, glancing back toward you with a breathy laugh. “this place is—”
her words faded when she noticed what you were doing.
you had stepped a little farther into the foyer and leaned down to kick off your boots, nudging them aside near the door with a casual ease that made it clear you’d done this routine countless times after long nights out. straightening again, you ran a hand through your hair before glancing back at her.
“i would give you a tour,” you began.
your voice carried that same teasing warmth from earlier in the night, but there was something slower about the way you moved now. your fingers found the hem of your top, lifting it slightly as you spoke.
“but there’s kinda only one thing on my mind right now.”
the words hung in the quiet of the house as you pulled the fabric up and over your head, the movement unhurried. you tossed the top casually toward the same spot your boots had landed, leaving it in a small pile by the door.
yunjin blinked.
for a moment she just stared, her brain catching up with the scene unfolding in front of her.
then a quiet laugh slipped out of her, half disbelief and half admiration.
“you’re unbelievable,” she said under her breath, though the smile tugging at her lips gave away that she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.
her eyes lifted back to yours, the earlier heat from the foyer returning instantly.
for a moment after you tossed your top aside, the house fell quiet again.
yunjin stood a few steps away from you in the foyer, her eyes lingering where the fabric had landed before slowly lifting back up to you. the teasing confidence in your expression hadn’t faded, and something about the calm way you stood there made the air between you tighten all over again.
whatever patience she had left from earlier in the night didn’t last long.
in a few quick strides she crossed the distance between you.
her hand found your waist first, fingers curling there with a sudden confidence as she pulled you closer. the motion was firm but smooth, guiding you back toward her as if the space between you had been bothering her for too long.
you barely had time to react before she leaned in.
her lips found the side of your neck, warm and deliberate as she pressed a series of kisses there. the contact made you inhale softly, your hands instinctively lifting to her shoulders to steady yourself as she kept you close.
yunjin lingered there for a moment, her breath warm against your skin as the quiet of the house wrapped around the two of you. one of her hands remained at your waist while the other slid lightly along your side, holding you in place as she continued kissing just below your jaw.
the soft sound of her lips against your skin.
you tilted your head slightly to give her more room, your fingers brushing through the back of her hair as you laughed quietly under your breath.
“thought you wanted the tour,” you murmured.
yunjin paused just long enough to smile against your neck before lifting her head slightly.
“changed my mind,” she said softly.
her hand tightened gently at your waist again, pulling you just a little closer as if she hadn’t quite gotten enough of you yet.
yunjin lingered there for a moment longer, her lips brushing your neck while her hand remained steady at your waist. every small movement between you carrying more weight now that there were no flashing lights or pounding speakers around you.
your fingers rested lightly against her shoulders, and for a second it seemed like neither of you were in a hurry to move anywhere else.
but the faint thread of restraint you still had left tugged at you.
“okay,” you breathed out softly.
your hands slid gently against her arms as you pushed her back just enough to create a little space between you. the contact lingered for a moment before she finally stepped back, though her hands stayed loosely at your waist like she wasn’t quite ready to let go completely.
you looked up at her with that familiar playful spark returning to your expression.
“i’ll show you where the magic happens.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them, and the second you heard yourself say it, a laugh escaped you. it was quiet and a little shy, like you knew exactly how ridiculous the line sounded but couldn’t help yourself anyway.
you shook your head lightly at your own joke.
“that was… terrible,” you admitted, smiling as you reached for her hand.
yunjin laughed too, the sound warm and slightly breathless as she let you take her hand without hesitation. her fingers threaded through yours naturally, squeezing lightly as if to say she was more than happy to follow wherever you were taking her.
“i thought it was smooth,” she teased.
behind you, yunjin followed easily, her hand still linked with yours as you led her upstairs.
the faint glow from lights along the hallway cast a warm path forward, softening the edges of the modern architecture. downstairs had already been impressive, but the upper level felt even more private, like the rest of the house existed for guests while this floor was meant only for you.
when you reached the end of the hall, you stopped in front of a set of tall double doors.
you pushed them open.
yunjin stepped in behind you and immediately slowed.
your bedroom felt less like a typical bedroom and more like a carefully designed retreat. the space was expansive but warm, decorated with a kind of understated luxury that made everything feel intentional without looking overly polished. soft, earthy tones filled the room with creams, muted browns, natural wood while balanced by low furniture that made the entire space feel calm and actually livable rather than being careful to not destroy anything.
a large bed sat centered in the room, layered with thick linen sheets and oversized pillows that looked impossibly comfortable. on one side of the room, a curved sofa and a low coffee table sat on top of a textured rug, creating a small lounge area surrounded by shelves filled with books and art pieces. a few modern lamps cast pools of warm light that made the entire room glow softly.
but what caught yunjin’s attention most was the wall of glass.
floor-to-ceiling doors stretched across the far side of the room, opening onto a wide balcony. beyond the glass, the entire city of los angeles spread out below like a sea of lights, the skyline glittering in the early hours of the morning. the view felt endless from this height, the quiet hills around the house making the city look even more distant and surreal.
yunjin exhaled slowly as she took it all in.
“you wake up to this every day?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder toward you.
you leaned casually against the doorframe for a second, watching her reaction with quiet amusement.
“it’s not the worst way to start a morning,” you said lightly.
yunjin laughed softly, shaking her head as she looked out over the balcony again. the night air pressed gently against the glass, the city lights flickering below like distant stars.
you watched her from near the doorway for a second before finally moving toward her.
“hey,” you said softly.
your voice broke the quiet in a gentle way, enough to make her turn slightly from the view. as you crossed the room toward her, the playful edge you’d carried all evening settled into something more careful. up here, with the house quiet and the night winding down, everything felt more real than it had under flashing club lights.
you slowed your steps as you reached her, stopping just a couple feet away.
for a moment you looked at her without speaking, as if weighing the moment in your head. then you let out a small breath and spoke again, your voice softer than before.
“are you sure you’re okay with this?”
the question came out calmly. you held her gaze while you asked it, giving her space rather than stepping closer. yunjin studied your expression for a moment.
the concern in your voice seemed to settle something in her rather than make her hesitate. a small smile formed as she turned fully away from the balcony and stepped toward you, closing the space you had intentionally left between you.
her hand came up to rest lightly against your arm.
“you asked me that on the dance floor too,” she said, her tone warm and reassuring. the memory of that moment hung briefly between you.
she held your gaze as she continued.
“i meant it then,” she said quietly. “and i mean it now.”
her fingers curled gently where they rested on your arm, the gesture simple but steady. the uncertainty that had briefly entered the moment faded again, leaving only the same pull that had brought you here in the first place.
you held her gaze for another second before letting out a small breath.
your cheeks had taken on a noticeable warmth, the flush coming from the drinks still lingering in your system, and the sudden awareness of the moment you were actually standing in. but standing here now, barefoot in your bedroom, half dressed and face to face with her, it hit a little differently.
your hand rubbed briefly at the back of your neck as a shy smile crept onto your face.
“didn’t think i’d be half naked in front of a k-pop idol tonight,” you admitted with a quiet laugh.
the self-awareness in your tone softened the tension between you, the humor slipping naturally into the moment. yunjin blinked once before a grin spread across her face.
tilting her head slightly as she looked you over with playful exaggeration. “when you put it like that, it sounds way more dramatic.”
her hand slid lightly from your arm down to your hand, fingers brushing against yours.
yunjin stepped forward slowly, her attention settling fully on you as the playful grin on her face softened into something quieter. her hand lifted gently to the side of your waist as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was careful.
there was no rush now, her lips moved slowly against yours, warm and steady, like she was savoring the fact that the two of you had finally reached this point after the long stretch of tension throughout the night.
your hands instinctively came up to her shoulders, grounding yourself as the kiss deepened slightly. yunjin’s hands slid lower along your sides until they reached your hips. without saying anything, she tapped lightly against the back of your thighs.
the gesture made you blink in confusion for half a second before realization hit.
a small laugh slipped out of you at the audacity of it, but the warmth in her expression made it impossible to hesitate for long. your hands shifted around her shoulders as you leaned into her again, trusting her balance as you lifted yourself slightly.
yunjin caught you easily.
her arms wrapped securely beneath your thighs as you settled into her hold, your legs instinctively hooking around her waist. the sudden closeness made both of you laugh quietly against each other again, the sound soft in the calm bedroom.
your arms slid around her neck to steady yourself as she adjusted her grip.
“comfortable?” she murmured with a teasing smile.
“very,” you whispered.
you leaned in again, capturing yunjin’s mouth in another kiss. your arms tightened around her neck as you balanced in her hold, legs still hooked around her waist while she held you securely. the kiss was warmer now, less tentative than before, the quiet of the room letting the moment stretch without interruption.
yunjin shifted her footing slowly as the kiss deepened, guiding the two of you backward across the room.
the city lights outside the glass doors glowed softly behind you, casting faint reflections across the floor. you barely noticed where she was leading until the cool surface of the glass met your back.
the sudden chill made you inhale softly against her lips.
yunjin smiled slightly into the kiss at your reaction, one of her hands sliding higher along your side while the other kept its steady hold beneath your thighs.
your fingers threaded lightly through the back of her hair as you kissed her again, the quiet room, and the city outside. yunjin leaned closer, holding you firmly as the two of you stayed there against the glass, the night unfolding slowly around you.
yunjin’s lips drifted away from yours, trailing slowly down the side of your jaw and along your neck. her breath warm against your skin as she kissed just beneath your ear before continuing lower. you tilted your head instinctively, giving her more space as her lips brushed across your collarbone.
a soft laugh escaped you when she lingered there, though it faded quickly when she pressed another kiss just below it.
still holding you securely, yunjin began to move backward through the room. the shift was careful so she wouldn’t lose her balance with you in her arms, but it was confident enough that you realized where she was guiding you before you even reached the bed.
when the back of her legs met the mattress, she sat down slowly.
your legs stayed loosely around her waist while her hands rested at your sides to steady you.
for a second the two of you paused, catching your breath.
then your hands began to move.
your nails traced lightly along the front of her shirt, dragging softly across the fabric as you leaned in closer again. the contact made her inhale sharply, her hands tightening slightly at your waist as she looked up at you.
your fingers slid down to the hem of her top. there was a brief moment where your eyes met, a quiet check-in between you that didn’t need words.
then you gently lifted the fabric upward, guiding it over her shoulders as she helped pull it off the rest of the way. the shirt landed somewhere beside the bed, forgotten almost immediately.
sitting there with you in her lap, the room quiet except for the soft rhythm of your breathing, she lifted her gaze slowly. her eyes drifted downward. the movement wasn’t rushed. it was careful, almost hesitant, like she was making sure she was reading the moment correctly. when she looked back up at you, there was a silent question in her expression.
you answered it without words.
looking down at her, a small, reassuring smile spread across your face before you gave a gentle nod.
the tension in her shoulders softened instantly.
encouraged, her hands began to move again, this time slower than before. her fingertips brushed lightly along the dip of your collarbone, tracing the line there as though she were committing the shape of it to memory. the touch carried a kind of quiet attentiveness—gentle, deliberate, like she didn’t want to rush through any part of the moment.
her gaze stayed on your face while she moved.
from your collarbone her hands drifted lower, sliding carefully along the center of your chest before continuing down the length of your torso. her palms followed the natural curve of your body, tracing across your sternum and along your ribs before settling briefly at your waist.
the warmth of her hands against your skin made you inhale slowly.
yunjin looked up again, meeting your eyes with a softer expression now, something curious and a little awed mixed with the anticipation still lingering between you.
then she leaned forward.
the warmth of her breath brushed against your skin first, sending a subtle shiver through you before her lips followed. the contact was light and barely there at first as she pressed a soft kiss just below your collarbone.
your fingers tightened slightly where they rested in her hair.
yunjin lingered there for a moment before letting her lips drift a little lower, brushing gently against your breast. the movement carried a teasing softness to it, careful and exploratory at the same time, like she was still learning how you reacted to her touch.
a quiet gasp slipped from you as you looked down at her, the sound soft but unmistakable in the stillness of the room.
yunjin lingered there for a moment, her lips still brushing softly against your skin while your fingers remained threaded through her hair. her tongue peeking from her lips to swirl around one of your nipples, gently sucking with desire while her tongue splayed flat.
she lifted her head just slightly, her cheek still close to you as a quiet laugh slipped from her.
“i think we’re gonna regret this,” she murmured playfully, the words spoken against your skin.
the tone wasn’t serious. if anything, it carried that same teasing edge that had followed the two of you since the dance floor hours earlier. but the moment she spoke, her hands resumed their slow movement along your sides, her touch warm and steady.
the sensation made you inhale sharply.
a breathy sound escaped you before you could hold it back, your head tipping slightly as your fingers tightened faintly where they rested in her hair. the closeness of her, the warmth of her hands made the moment feel heavier than the joking words she’d just said.
“too late for that,” you breathed out in response.
your eyes drifted down toward her again, meeting her gaze as she looked back up at you. the playful warning she’d given lingered between you for only a second before it disappeared into the shared understanding that neither of you had anny intention of stopping now.
outside the glass doors, the city continued to glow in the distance.
inside the room, the night carried on slow and warm between yunjin and you. doing things that the public eye wouldn't ever imagine in a million years.
✵ YOU'RE GONNA PLEASE MY BOYS -ˋˏchapter five | what an asshole
the living room of the KD house had taken on the quiet stillness that follows an emotional storm. what had started out as a 'therapy' earlier in the morning had gradually settled into something softer, more exhausted.
empty cartons of ice cream and half-crumpled napkins remained scattered across the coffee table, remnants of the girls’ attempts to distract harper from the steady wave of humiliation and anger that had come with the truth about carter. the late morning light filtered through the wide windows, washing the room in a pale glow that only made the tension lingering between them feel more visible.
harper sat curled into the corner of the couch beneath a loosely draped blanket someone had brought down earlier. her eyes were red, though the crying had mostly stopped, replaced now by the dull heaviness that comes after too many tears. delaney remained beside her, leaning comfortably against the armrest with one hand resting against harper’s back in quiet reassurance. across from them, tatum and sloane occupied the opposite couch.
tati had her spot on the arm of a chair, her phone still in hand as she absentmindedly scrolled, though it was obvious her attention had drifted far from whatever was on the screen.
you sat closest to harper, your knee angled toward hers as you spoke softly to her, the conversation moving slowly but carefully in the way people do when they are trying to stitch someone back together piece by piece.
“it’s not your fault,” delaney was saying again, patient but firm. “none of this is your fault.”
harper let out a tired breath, rubbing her hand beneath her eye before answering. “i know you keep saying that, but i feel like i should’ve seen it. three months is a long time to not notice someone’s cheating on you.”
tatum shook her head from across the room, leaning forward slightly. “guys like carter are professionals at hiding things. that’s basically their whole personality.”
sloane nodded in agreement beside her. “boys treat lying like it’s a sport.”
the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of harper’s mouth at that, but it faded almost as quickly as it appeared. you noticed the moment of relief regardless, reaching over and squeezing her hand lightly.
before the conversation could continue, your phone vibrated against the couch cushion beside you. the sudden sound broke through the quiet rhythm of the room, drawing your attention downward.
manon’s name glowed on the screen.
you picked it up almost immediately, standing slightly as you stepped a few paces away from the couch before answering. “hey.”
there was a faint echo of movement behind her voice when she spoke, the distant sound of doors opening and closing somewhere in the background. “hey,” manon said, her tone warm but carrying that calm confidence she seemed to move through the world with. “class just ended. i’m heading your way now.”
you leaned lightly against the edge of the dining table as you spoke, glancing back toward the living room where the girls had resumed their quiet conversation around harper.
“we’re still at KD,” you replied. “just finishing up.”
manon hummed softly in acknowledgment. there was a brief pause, and when she spoke again her voice lowered slightly. “everything okay?”
your gaze shifted back toward harper again. delaney had pulled her into another side hug, murmuring something quietly that made harper shake her head with a tired smile, “mostly,” you said after a moment.
“good,” manon replied simply. “i’ll be there in a few.”
the call ended with the soft click of the line disconnecting.
you returned to the couch just as harper’s phone buzzed in her lap. the shift in her posture was subtle but immediate. her shoulders stiffened as she looked down at the screen, and the color seemed to drain slightly from her face.
delaney noticed it first.
“who is it?” she asked carefully.
harper swallowed before answering, her voice quieter now. “carter.”
the name landed heavily in the room. tati’s scrolling stopped instantly, her head lifting with sharp interest, while tatum and sloane exchanged identical looks of disbelief from across the room.
“what does he want?” sloane asked. harper stared at the message for a moment longer before reading it aloud. “he says he’s outside. he wants to talk.”
for a moment no one spoke. then delaney sat up straighter beside her. “absolutely not.”
“i agree,” tati added quickly, already locking her phone. “you don’t owe him anything.”
harper looked between the girls, uncertainty flickering across her expression. “i just… i don’t know. part of me wants to hear what he has to say.”
you exhaled slowly before speaking. “if you go out there, you’re not going alone.”
that settled the matter quickly. within a minute all six of you were moving toward the front door together, the quiet determination among the group making it clear that whatever carter had planned, he would not be handling harper alone.
outside, the air carried the cool edge of late morning. carter stood near the curb beside his truck, pacing slowly with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. he looked up the moment the door opened. his expression changed almost instantly when he realized harper hadn’t come out alone. the entire group of girls stepped onto the porch behind her.
carter let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached the bottom of the steps. “harper, can we talk?”
she crossed her arms instinctively, remaining on the porch rather than walking down to meet him, “you’re talking,” she said. he glanced briefly at the rest of you before shifting his attention back to her. “alone.”
“that’s not happening,” delaney said calmly.
carter ignored her.
“look,” he began again, focusing on harper with the strained patience of someone already frustrated. “what you heard isn’t what it sounds like.”
tati let out a quiet laugh behind you.
harper’s expression didn’t change. “you were sleeping with her for three months.”
carter hesitated for half a second, clearly thrown by the directness of the statement. “it wasn’t like that,” he insisted quickly. “it didn’t mean anything.”
“oh, like that’s supposed to make it better?” harper asked.
“i made a mistake,” he continued, his voice growing more defensive with each sentence. “but we can fix it. we’ve been together for two years, harper. you’re really going to throw that away over one bad decision?”
the tension in the group shifted immediately. sloane straightened beside you which made you hold her still by her forearm, while tatum muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult. harper stared at him for a long moment before answering. “you didn’t make one bad decision. you lied to me every day for months.”
carter’s patience snapped, “jesus, harper,” he said sharply. “you’re acting like i killed someone.” the tone of his voice made several of you stiffen at once. you stepped forward slightly without even thinking about it. “watch how you’re talking to her.”
carter’s eyes flicked toward you, irritation flashing across his face. “this doesn’t involve you.”
harper shifted slightly behind you, the small movement enough to set something off in your chest.
“she’s my friend,” you replied evenly. “so, yeah, it does involve me.”
carter scoffed, stepping closer to the porch. “you’re making this worse.”
“what’s making it worse,” delaney said coldly, “is the fact that you cheated on her and still think you’re the victim.”
the conversation had grown sharper now, voices carrying across the quiet street. carter stepped closer again, frustration spilling over. “harper, just come down here and talk to me without your entire sorority acting like a security team.”
harper didn’t move.
“back up,” you said quietly.
“or what?” carter shot back, taking another step forward.
the sound of a car pulling up behind him interrupted the moment.
a familiar jeep rolled slowly to the curb near the house, the engine cutting off as the driver door opened. manon stepped out a second later, shutting the door behind her before taking in the scene unfolding in front of the KD house.
her gaze moved quickly between the group on the porch and carter standing too close to the steps.
the tension was obvious.
she walked forward without rushing, her expression calm but focused as she approached the sidewalk.
“everything alright guys?” she asked.
carter turned at the sound of her voice, recognition flickering across his face almost instantly. “bannerman.”
manon stopped a few feet away, her hands settling casually into the pockets of her jacket as she looked between him and the girls, “you should go, carter. looks like you’re causing a scene,” she replied evenly.
“this doesn’t involve you,” carter said.
manon’s eyes flicked briefly toward you, checking your expression before returning to him.
“it does if you’re standing outside yelling at these girls,” she said.
carter stepped forward again, irritation boiling over. “stay out of it.” when he shoved her shoulder in passing, the movement happened so quickly that several of the girls gasped.
manon barely moved. for a second the street went completely still. then she grabbed the front of carter’s shirt and shoved him back hard enough that he stumbled a step toward his truck.
“if you touch me again,” she said quietly, “i'll have your ass out of here in a day. leave before you get yourself hurt, bro. i'm not fucking around.”
carter stared at her, stunned more by the challenge than the shove itself. behind you, tati whispered excitedly to sloane while delaney watched the situation with narrowed eyes.
carter glanced around, suddenly aware of how many people were watching him now. he scoffed, shaking his head as he backed toward his truck. “this is ridiculous.”
“yeah,” manon replied flatly. “asshole.”
he climbed into the driver’s seat a moment later, slamming the door harder than necessary before pulling away from the curb with a loud screech from his tires. the street fell quiet again as his truck disappeared down the block along with the tire smoke.
manon turned toward the porch slowly, her expression softening the moment her eyes found yours.
“you okay?” she asked.
“yeah,” you reply with a half smile, though the tension from the confrontation still keeps you slightly on edge. the adrenaline hasn’t quite faded yet, and even with carter’s truck long gone down the street, the air around the chapter house still feels charged with the remnants of it.
manon studies your face for a moment, her gaze steady like she’s making sure you actually mean it before letting the matter go. after a second she seems satisfied enough, her attention shifting past you toward the rest of the girls gathered along the porch.
“you guys okay?” she asks, her voice casual but genuine.
delaney is the first to respond, her arm still loosely around harper’s shoulders. “we’re good.”
tatum leans back against the railing with a small shrug. “honestly? that went better than expected.” tati, who has clearly been watching the entire exchange with far too much interest, lifts her phone slightly. “for the record, i was very close to filming that.”
sloane lets out a quiet snort beside her, though her eyes drift once more toward the end of the street where carter’s truck disappeared.
manon listens to them with the faintest trace of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth, but the expression softens when her gaze settles on harper.
“how ’bout you, harps,” she says gently. “you good?”
harper looks up at her, still wrapped in the blanket from earlier, exhaustion lingering in the redness around her eyes. for a moment she simply nods, the movement small but sincere.
“yeah,” she says quietly. “i think so.”
manon holds her gaze for another second before giving a small nod of her own, accepting the answer without pressing her any further.
“good,” she says simply.
the tension hanging over the porch finally begins to loosen after that, the group slowly exhaling now that the confrontation is over and the street has returned to its usual calm.
you feel the shift in manon's energy the moment she steps closer, the playful edge in her tone softening something that’s been taut all afternoon. manon’s grin isn’t perfect—slightly tired at the edges—but it’s warm, genuine, like she’s testing the waters to see if you’ll play along.
“i’m gonna steal your girl for brunch,” she says, letting her voice carry just enough teasing to make you notice the flicker of humor in her eyes. there’s no malice there, she angles herself beside you, close enough that the movement feels deliberate, the kind of proximity that reads as both familiar and easy on the eyes.
“if that’s okay?” she adds quickly, softening the line, the sentence a careful bow instead of a challenge. her shoulders lift just slightly in that quiet shrug that tells you she’s serious but also aware that she might be overstepping.
you catch yourself studying her expression, the mix of exhaustion and intent that’s always been hard to read all at once. there’s a pause, the kind of breathless silence that stretches just long enough to feel like an invitation—and a question.
you barely have time to respond before the girls start leaning in, their energy shifting from tense protectiveness to playful mischief. delaney smirks from across the small circle, nudging tati with a sharp elbow. “ohhh, she’s doing the whole ‘steal your girl’ thing, huh?” she says, her voice light, teasing.
sloane snickers, tilting her head like she’s savoring the scene, and harper—who’s been quiet until now—grins despite herself. “i mean, you might get away with it,” harper says softly, teasing sharp enough to make the moment feel charged but still safe.
delaney leans in, mock-serious, and points a finger at manon. “just bring her back in one piece, okay?” she says, the joke heavy in her tone but the smile bright.
manon stiffens slightly, caught between amusement and embarrassment. her hand finds the edge of her jacket, tugging at it nervously as she throws a quick glance at you. “i—okay, fine, i’m just trying to—” she starts, but notices that the girls are just teasing her.
manon rolls her eyes, though her lips twitch into a small smile. you can feel the warmth of her presence next to you, the careful way she’s testing boundaries while letting the teasing wash over her. it’s easy to see why the girls have latched onto this moment.
you feel the warmth of the girls’ laughter and teasing fading behind you as they wave their goodbyes, their voices still carrying softly through the air. harper lingers a moment longer, giving you a small, knowing smile, while delaney and the others continue their playful chatter as they head back inside.
manon’s presence beside you feels grounding, her hand sliding gently to the small of your back. it’s protective, a quiet shield against the world, but soft enough that it doesn’t crowd you. the motion is instinctive, natural, the kind of small gesture that says she’s paying attention without needing to announce it. you step toward her jeep, the hum of the engine waiting in the driveway, and the tension of the last hour seems to settle around you like a fading shadow.
her fingers linger just long enough to remind you she’s there, that she’s present, and that in this messy, unpredictable chaos, there’s a steady line connecting you two. the air smells faintly of exhaust and autumn leaves, but the closeness between you makes it feel warmer, calmer, easier. you glance at her, and there’s a softness in her expression—quiet, unspoken reassurance.
“ready?” she asks, her voice low, casual, but threaded with that same quiet intensity that makes it clear she’s not letting anything happen to you.
you nod, letting yourself relax into the space she’s giving you, trusting her. the car waits, the engine quiet for now, but you know once you slide into the passenger seat, you’re not just going somewhere physical—you’re moving together, even in the smallest gestures, toward something safe.
you smile at her, letting the warmth reach your eyes, and lean over the center console. your hands find her face gently, nails brushing lightly against her cheek, and you press your lips to hers in a soft, careful kiss. when you pull back, your forehead almost resting against hers, the world feels a little quieter, a little safer.
“thank you so much for that… whole thing,” you murmur, voice low but sincere. the words carry more than gratitude—they carry relief, trust, and the quiet acknowledgment that she had your back when it mattered most.
manon’s eyes meet yours, calm but intense, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips. her hand moves to cover yours, grounding you both in the moment, and for a few seconds, it’s just the two of you, the jeep idle around you, and the world beyond that has faded away.
“you don’t have to thank me,” she says at first, her voice softer than usual, almost private.
then something shifts.
it’s subtle, but you know her well enough already to notice it. the warmth in her expression smooths out, her posture straightening slightly as she leans back into her seat. one hand slides back onto the steering wheel, the other resting casually along the center console like it belongs there. the softness that had settled between the two of you folds neatly away behind the kind of composure she carries everywhere else.
the kind that reminds you exactly who she is.
SAE vice president.
she exhales quietly, running a hand once over the back of her neck before glancing back at you with a small, almost crooked smile.
“besides,” she adds, tone a little lighter now, “guy was being an idiot.”
there’s a brief pause while she taps the steering wheel once with her thumb, eyes drifting toward the windshield before returning to you again.
“you okay though?” she asks.
the question is simple, but it’s careful. measured.
the distinction settles in your chest gently, not painful exactly, but noticeable enough to remind you that whatever this is between the two of you… it’s still new. still undefined.
manon shifts the jeep into gear then, one arm resting casually along the back of your seat as she glances over her shoulder to pull away from the curb.
“so,” she says after a moment, that cool ease settling fully back into place as she steers down the street, “you still up for brunch?”
“starving,” you say with a gentle smile, the tension from earlier settling into something quieter now that the jeep is moving. as manon pulls away from the curb, you reach into your bag and fish out your phone, the screen lighting up in your hands as you open the message you’d been meaning to read.
it’s a long text from the KD group chat, something about finalizing details for the philanthropy event coming up next week. you skim through it automatically, scrolling with your thumb as the girls debate table placements, ticket prices, and whether the banner from last year is still usable or if someone has to design a new one.
beside you, manon glances over briefly before returning her attention to the road, one hand steady on the steering wheel. “what’s got you that focused?” she asks after a moment, nodding toward the phone.
you tilt the screen down slightly as you keep reading. “philanthropy stuff,” you reply, scrolling further. “we’ve got the fundraiser next weekend and everyone’s freaking out about it.”
manon hums softly, like the answer makes perfect sense. her arm rests casually along the center console now, the easy confidence back in her posture as she drives.
“sounds about right,” she says. “sorority girls and event planning… terrifying combination.”
you let out a quiet laugh, still scanning the messages as another notification pops up in the thread. the jeep continues down the street, the low hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as the morning begins to settle into something calmer than the chaos you’d left behind.
the drive settles into an easy rhythm after that. the earlier tension fades into the background noise of the college town waking up. people drifting along sidewalks, the quiet hum of the jeep’s engine steady beneath it all. you scroll through a few more messages before eventually locking your phone and setting it down in your lap, letting yourself simply sit in the quiet for a moment.
manon doesn’t rush the silence. one hand rests comfortably on the steering wheel while the other taps lightly against it every now and then, her posture relaxed in that effortless way she seems to carry everywhere.
a few minutes later she pulls into the parking lot of a small café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. the place looks busy in the late morning light, patio tables filled with people nursing coffee cups and plates of food while conversations drift through the open windows.
manon eases the jep into a parking spot near the entrance before shifting the gear into park. the engine cuts off, leaving the sudden quiet of the car around you.
before you can even reach for the door handle, she’s already stepping out.
you glance up just in time to see her walk around the front of the jeep, sunlight catching briefly in her hair as she moves. there’s a calm efficiency in the way she does it, like opening doors for people is simply something she does without thinking.
the passenger door swings open a second later.
manon stands there with one hand resting against the top of the doorframe, the other extended toward you.
“careful,” she says lightly, though the corner of her mouth lifts just enough to soften the comment.
you place your hand in hers without hesitation. her grip is warm and steady as she helps you down from the seat, her hand lingering just a second longer than necessary before letting go.
for a brief moment the two of you stand there beside the jeep, the smell of coffee drifting from the café and the low murmur of conversation filling the space around you.
manon glances toward the entrance before looking back at you.
“c’mon,” she says, nodding toward the door. “let’s feed you before you pass out from starvation.”
late morning light spills through the tall windows near the front, catching on the glass pastry case and the polished counter where a small line has already formed.
manon holds the door open behind you before letting it swing shut, her hand briefly resting at the small of your back as she guides you forward through the quiet crowd. the touch is light—almost absentminded—but steady enough that you notice it.
the two of you move into line together, the low murmur of conversations and the clatter of dishes filling the space around you. a chalkboard menu stretches across the wall behind the counter, crowded with handwritten drink specials and breakfast plates.
you glance up at it, scanning the options, but manon seems far less concerned. when it’s your turn, she steps forward first, resting one hand casually against the counter.
“morning,” she says to the barista with an easy familiarity that suggests she’s been here more than a few times. “morning,” the barista replies with a smile of recognition. “the usual?”
manon nods once before glancing over at you. “first time here?”
you nod almost embarassed.
“alright,” she says, turning back to the counter. “i'll order for you then. trust me.”
there’s just enough confidence in her tone to make it sound less like a suggestion and more like a promise. you smile slightly and nod your agreement.
manon places the order smoothly, listing off the items without even glancing back at the menu—two drinks, something warm from the breakfast menu, and a pastry the barista immediately begins pulling from the case.
as the barista reads back the total, you instinctively reach for your phone, unlocking it quickly and bringing up apple pay. before you can lift it toward the card reader, manon’s hand moves quietly across the counter.
she doesn’t say anything.
she simply lowers your phone gently back toward the surface of the counter, her fingers resting over yours just long enough to stop the motion. the disagreement is silent but understandable.
you glance up at her.
manon is already handing her card to the barista.
“it’s fine,” she says calmly, not even looking in your direction as the payment goes through.
a moment later the receipt prints, and she collects it with the same easy composure she carries everywhere else. only then does she glance back at you, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
“you can get the next one,” she says.
you’re still holding your phone loosely in your hand, the screen dimming again after the brief, unsuccessful attempt to pay.
a moment later the barista calls manon’s name, sliding the tray across the counter with two drinks and a couple plates. manon gathers everything easily, balancing the tray with one hand before nodding toward the seating area.
you follow her across the café, weaving between small tables and quiet conversations until she settles on a spot near one of the windows. sunlight spills across the table there, catching the steam rising from the coffee cups.
manon sets the food down first, then moves around the table. instead of sitting immediately, she reaches for the chair across from her and pulls it out slightly, glancing up at you.
the corner of her mouth lifts into a faint, amused smile.
“i was just kidding, by the way,” she says, gesturing lightly toward the chair for you to sit.
you slide into the seat, still watching her with a curious expression as she walks around to the other side of the table.
“anytime we’re out anywhere,” she continues casually, settling into her chair across from you, “just me and you…”
she reaches for her coffee, taking a small sip before finishing the thought.
“i pay.”
there’s no arrogance in the way she says it. if anything, it sounds matter-of-fact, like she’s simply explaining a rule that already exists. her eyes flick up to meet yours over the rim of the cup.
“non-negotiable.”
you’re just about to respond something halfway between teasing her about the rule and thanking her anyway when a voice breaks into the moment.
“y/n?”
the name catches your attention immediately. you glance up from the table to see a tall blonde guy standing a few feet away, hands shoved loosely into the pockets of a pike hoodie. there’s an almost amused expression on his face, like he’s not entirely sure if he’s seeing the right person.
for a second it takes your brain a moment to place him.
then your eyes widen.
“trevor?” you say, the surprise slipping easily into your voice. you push your chair back slightly as recognition settles in. "oh my gosh!”
manon stays seated across from you, her hand loosely wrapped around her coffee cup as she watches the exchange unfold. she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t speak—she simply leans back slightly in her chair, observing.
you stand up quickly, the excitement of unexpected familiarity carrying you the few steps toward him. trevor laughs softly as you approach, bending down slightly while you rise onto your toes to hug him.
“holy shit, it is you,” he says.
your arms loop briefly around his shoulders, but from where she sits, manon’s eyes catch something else. trevor’s arms slide easily around your waist when he hugs you back, pulling you in just a little closer than necessary.
it’s casual. familiar.
but it’s enough.
manon’s jaw tightens for a fraction of a second before she exhales slowly through her nose, her gaze dropping back down to the table as she forces herself to stay relaxed. her fingers tap once against the side of her coffee cup as she breathes in and lets the air settle in her chest.
she reminds herself quietly that this is normal.
old friends run into each other.
still, when she looks back up, her eyes linger on the way trevor’s arm is still resting around your waist for that extra second before the hug breaks.
and manon has to resist the instinctive urge to sit up straighter in her chair.
it's strange seeing someone from home here, thousands of little memories attached to a face you haven’t thought about in months suddenly standing in the middle of a café.
your eyes drop briefly to the letters across his hoodie, the bold PIKE stretched across the front. you glance back up at him, one eyebrow lifting slightly as a teasing smile spreads across your face.
“pike, huh?” you say, nudging lightly at the fabric of his hoodie with your fingers before looking back up at him.
trevor laughs, running a hand through his hair in that same familiar way you remember from high school. “yeah, yeah,” he says, already sounding defensive in a playful way. “don’t start.”
“i'm just surprised,” you reply, tilting your head slightly as you look him over again. “you always said you weren’t gonna be one of those frat guys.”
“i’m not,” he says quickly, pointing at the letters like that somehow proves his case. “i’m a pledge, technically.”
you laugh softly at that, shaking your head.
behind you, manon watches the interaction quietly from the table. ahe hasn’t moved much since you stood up, though her posture has shifted slightly, one arm now resting along the back of her chair while the other hand idly turns her coffee cup a few inches on the table.
her expression stays neutral, but her eyes move carefully between the two of you.
she notices the ease in the way you and trevor talk, the kind of familiarity that comes from knowing someone long before college, before new circles and new lives. and even though she’s telling herself there’s nothing strange about that, her gaze lingers just a second longer than necessary before she looks back down at the table.
across from her, your chair still sits empty.
“shit, sorry,” you say suddenly, the realization hitting you as you glance back toward the table. you step slightly to the side, gesturing behind you so trevor can see past you.
“this is manon,” you add, your voice easy as you motion toward her. “you might know her?”
trevor’s attention shifts immediately toward the table.
manon is already looking at him.
she hasn’t moved much from where she’s sitting, one arm draped loosely along the back of her chair while the other rests near her coffee cup. her posture is relaxed, but there’s a quiet awareness in the way she studies him now that she’s been brought into the conversation.
trevor’s eyebrows lift almost instantly in recognition.
“yeah,” he says with a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “i mean… yeah, i know who that is.”
manon bannerman isn’t exactly someone people on campus don’t recognize. manon stands then, slow and composed, pushing her chair in slightly before stepping forward. there’s nothing rushed about the way she moves, nothing overly performative either. she simply closes the distance enough to acknowledge him properly.
“trevor,” she says, offering her hand.
he shakes it, though there’s a noticeable shift in his posture now, the casual ease he had with you giving way slightly under manon’s steady gaze.
“yeah,” he replies. “manon bannerman. vp at SAE, right?”
manon’s mouth curves just faintly at the corner, “that’s me.”
there’s a brief pause before trevor glances back at you, then between the two of you, something curious flickering across his face, "well,” he says lightly, a grin forming again, “small world.”
“still with leah?” you ask after a moment, the question slipping out easily as you fold your arms loosely in front of you.
trevor lets out a short laugh through his nose, the reaction coming quick enough that you already know the answer before he even speaks.
“god, no,” he says, shaking his head. “that ended like… halfway through senior year.”
your eyebrows lift slightly. “shit, seriously?”
“yeah,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck again. “it was kind of a mess. you know how it goes.”
you nod slowly, remembering the two of them practically glued to each other all through junior year, sitting together at lunch, showing up to every football game together as the typical football-cheerleader cliche like it was some kind of routine.
“wow,” you murmur, half amused. “i thought you guys were gonna last forever.”
trevor snorts at that. “yeah, well… turns out seventeen-year-olds aren’t exactly great at ‘forever.’”
behind you, manon stays quiet, leaning one hip lightly against the edge of the table now instead of sitting. her arms cross loosely over her chest as she watches the conversation unfold, her gaze drifting between the two of you.
when trevor laughs at something you say next, manon’s eyes flick toward him again, studying him a little more closely this time. the easy familiarity, the way he keeps his attention mostly on you.
manon’s eyes narrow just slightly, the tiniest shift in her stance that only you notice. in a split second, her mind is already running through options—an excuse that won’t seem overbearing but will keep you close. she forces a casual breath and smooths the edge off her posture, deciding on her approach.
“i actually—uh—need to check in with a few of the pledges,” she says, voice light but deliberate, “make sure everything’s… squared away.” the reasoning is vague enough to sound believable to anyone not paying close attention, yet the edge in it hints at a protective undertone you recognize immediately.
trevor tilts his head, glancing between the two of you, and offers with a grin, “i can walk you back to your dorm, y/n, if you want.”
before the words even fully land, manon steps in, a cool but firm edge threading her tone. “actually,” she says smoothly, hand brushing lightly over yours as if to reinforce her claim, “i think it’s best if i take y/n. i’ve got it covered.”
trevor raises his eyebrows, a half-amused, half-questioning expression on his face, but doesn’t argue. manon’s subtle authority in the situation is enough—her presence, the gentle but unyielding grip on your hand, and the way she positions herself between you and him make it clear. this is her priority.
you glance at manon, a soft smile tugging at your lips. there’s a flash of the old, cool manon bannerman here—the one who doesn’t need to explain herself to anyone, even when her reasoning is as instinctive as it is protective. trevor seems to pick up on it too, a faint chuckle escaping him as he shrugs and steps back.
“alright, then,” he says, still smiling. “your move, bannerman.”
manon lets a tiny smirk curl at the corner of her mouth before she guides you gently toward the exit, her hand warm and reassuring against your back.
manon balances both coffees and your food in one hand as she walks toward the jeep, the ease of it making your chest tighten in a way that’s entirely unhelpful. there’s something about how she carries herself and how she can hold so much and still move with that effortless control, as if there’s always room for more without ever losing her balance. you catch yourself staring for a fraction too long before yanking your attention back, waving at trevor as he watches you leave.
manon opens the car door for you, the same fluid motion that always makes her seem just a little larger than life. you climb in, letting your bag settle beside you, and she’s already in the driver’s seat, engine humming to life instantly.
“didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” she says, voice low but firm, cutting straight to the tension that had been simmering beneath your calm.
you shift slightly in your seat, heart still a little flustered, and meet her gaze. “was it that obvious?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice despite the quick beat of your pulse.
manon smirks, eyes briefly scanning the road before snapping back to you. “yeah,” she says simply. “and you’re mine, just in case you forgot.”
you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes, the warmth in her statement settling over you like a shield. in that small, quiet space between the city streets and the hum of the jeep, it feels like nothing. not trevor, not anyone else matters except the subtle claim she’s just made.
"i'll make sure i'll get 'property of manon bannerman' tattooed on my forehead."
manon glances at you, one brow slightly raised, lips twitching like she’s fighting a smirk. “you’d better,” she says, her voice carrying that cool, untouchable edge that reminds you she’s still manon bannerman first, not just someone messing around with you.
you grin, leaning back against the seat. “i’ll start scheduling the appointment tomorrow,” you tease, letting your eyes linger on her just long enough to see her reaction.
her hand tightens on the wheel for a split second, a sharp inhale slipping out, and you catch the faintest flicker of something behind her usual composure. “you’re ridiculous,” she mutters, shaking her head, and just for a second, that poised exterior softens but only a fraction.
you reach over and brush your fingers against hers, a small, deliberate touch. “yeah, i know,” you say, quiet, letting her register it.
she lets the corner of her mouth twitch into a smirk, eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “keep that in mind,” she says, voice steady.
manon maneuvers the jeep smoothly through campus streets, her hands steady on the wheel, eyes scanning the road with that same calm precision that makes her seem untouchable. you sit beside her, absently scrolling through your phone, but you can’t stop sneaking glances at the way her jaw tightens slightly when she concentrates, the way her shoulders shift just enough when she shifts gears.
when she pulls up in front of your dorm, she kills the engine before you even have time to unlock your door. “i’ll walk you upstairs,” she says, voice even, almost casual but there’s that subtle weight behind it.
the dorms feels warmer inside than you expected, sunlight spilling across the common areas. manon falls into step behind you, letting you lead the way, but never letting you get too far ahead before she took your bag out your hand and carried it for you. when you reach your door, she hesitates for a moment, watching you with that cool, measured expression, before stepping inside with you, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
manon smiled gently as she handed you you bag, surprised by the casual ease she brings with her, the way she seems to fold into your space without demanding it. “don’t you have… things to do?” you ask, half teasing and half curious.
she smirks, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, the air around her effortless and controlled. “nah,” she says simply. “this works.”
and just like that, she’s there. not hovering, just ,manon. the afternoon stretches lazily outside your window, but inside time seems to slow just enough for you both to exist in this quiet.
you let out a laugh gently that makes manon's lips flutter into an almost gentle smile. turning on your heel as you enjoyed her presence in a place you felt more comfort in, stepping on the smooth, carpeted floor toward your desk.
as your fingers fumble with the dorm keys on the desk, you suddenly feel the warmth of manon’s arms sliding around your waist from behind. her body presses close, and for a moment your balance falters, caught off guard by the unexpected weight and proximity. her lips find the nape of your neck, soft and deliberate, tracing a path that sends a shiver down your spine.
instinctively, you steady yourself, pressing your hands against the surface of the desk to keep upright. the subtle strength in her hold keeps you anchored, yet the pressure is teasing, intimate—controlled but impossible to ignore. you can feel her breath against your skin, the faint shift of her weight, and the quiet confidence in every movement.
you tilt your head slightly, adjusting, but don’t pull away, caught somewhere between startled and… something more. the afternoon sunlight through the window paints a soft glow across your room, yet it barely competes with the tension that lingers in the space between you two.
“manon…” you whisper softly, your voice barely audible as your eyes close on their own, betraying the flutter in your chest. the sound of her name on your lips seems to draw her closer, her presence a quiet weight behind you, warm and steady.
her lips press a little more insistently against the nape of your neck, and you feel the faint brush of her jaw against your shoulder as she tilts her head, as if savoring the moment just as much as you are. every subtle movement with the curve of her arms around you, the gentle pressure of her body feels electric all over.
you inhale sharply, catching the faint scent of her cologne, and the desk under your palms becomes the only anchor you have.
as if it were instinct, you let one hand lift from the desk, fingertips brushing through the dark braids at the back of manon’s head. you guide her gently, pressing her closer into your skin, feeling the warmth of her lips and the subtle strength of her body against yours.
her arms tighten slightly around your waist in response, a quiet acknowledgment of the space you’ve both claimed, and for a moment, the world shrinks to nothing beyond the shallow rise and fall of your chests.
in a heartbeat, her hands shift on your waist, firm yet careful, and before you can react, she spins you around. the sudden movement leaves your hair brushing against your shoulders, and you catch her looking down at you with a grin that’s completely uncharacteristic soft, almost dorky, the kind that makes her usual composure feel miles away.
“hi,” she says, voice low and teasing, her eyes sparkling with that mischievous warmth that always catches you off guard. you find yourself smiling despite yourself, caught with more fluttering in your chest, as she tilts her head just slightly.
"hi, manon."
you tug gently at her shoulders, letting your hands rest around the back of her neck as you catch her cap and toss it onto the desk. she leans into you for a beat, and then effortlessly, she lifts you up, your legs curling slightly around her as she carries you toward the bed.
halfway there, you can’t help the teasing edge in your voice, “i’m guessing the pledges can wait?”
manon lets out a low, amused hum, her grip on you firm but easy. “yeah,” she murmurs, tilting her head down to glance at you, “they can wait. you’re a lot more interesting right now.” her words are casual, but the intensity in her eyes makes it impossible to ignore. the room seems to shrink around you both, every sound outside fading into background noise as she sets you gently on the bed, her hands still holding yours.
manon shrugs off her jacket, the movement fluid and effortless, then peels her shirt over her head, revealing the sculpted abs that make you pause for a second longer than you probably should. your fingers trail lightly over the ridges, teasingly grazing the defined muscles.
“i think this is my favorite part about you,” you say, voice playful, letting the words linger in the space between you. manon lets out a quiet chuckle, her eyes darkening with amusement, and shifts closer, letting your nails trace her abs as if daring you to keep going. the energy between you hums low and electric, neither needing to speak much more to feel the pull.
manon’s hand slides up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair with a skillful grip that’s firm but gentle, almost like a faint tug of a breeze brushing past.
the motion lifts your chin without you even realizing it, and your eyes meet hers just as her lips descend, soft and deliberate, pressing against yours with a quiet, steady heat. the way she always seems to know exactly how to draw you in.
manon’s lips ghosted over yours, a teasing whisper between each press. “thank you, trevor,” she murmured, the name sliding off her tongue like mischief as she settled between your legs, drawing herself close. you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from your lips, shaking the quiet afternoon around you.
the two of you moved together with ease, a rhythm that was equal parts playful and urgent, the sunlight spilling through the windows slowly becoming a background hum. eventually, you both reached a pause, the room feeling smaller, warmer, private.
with a shared glance and a quiet understanding, the blinds were drawn, the curtains pulled closed, and the afternoon folded itself around the two of you in gentle secrecy.
✵ YOU'RE STILL THE ONE I WANT FOR LIFE -ˋˏ chapter two | she stood her ground
madrid feels different when it belongs to you.
the restaurant has been cleared entirely for the evening—not just a secluded room, but an entire floor secured and sealed. black suvs idle along the narrow street outside, headlights cutting across stone façades as security personnel stand stationed at every entrance. inside, plainclothes officers position themselves near corridors and mirrored columns, their presence subtle but unmistakable.
even the guests dining below have no idea how many layers of protection exist one level above them.
the private dining room glows beneath crystal chandeliers. linen drapes perfectly over the long oval table, silver polished to a mirror sheen. servants wait along the walls, hands folded neatly, stepping forward only when signaled. the atmosphere is elegant, controlled, almost rehearsed.
you sit between adrián and lucía, your father across from you, observant as always. at the head of the table is your mother, isabel, composed in that seamless way that blends maternal warmth with institutional authority. dinner begins with the usual formalities—updates about cultural initiatives, a brief mention of an upcoming state visit, a quiet comment about scheduling.
it doesn’t last.
“la prensa está encantada,” isabel says at last, lightly swirling her wine.
lucía exhales softly, shaking her head. she mentions how the interaction has been replayed across every platform imaginable. in the united states, commentators are calling it a generational face-off. “aquí dicen que fue un choque ideológico,” adrián adds dryly, noting how spanish outlets are framing it as dramatic as the american ones.
your father’s gaze settles on you. he reminds you that you crossed the aisle. isabel follows by calmly pointing out that you bowed—and that sophia did not.
you acknowledge both without hesitation.
when isabel asks you to explain, her tone is measured rather than accusatory. “explícalo,” she says gently. you take your time before answering, adjusting your cuff as you gather your thoughts.
you tell them it was protocol. you represent the crown. you do not improvise tradition based on personal comfort. sophia offered her hand, and you accepted it, but your bow was not about her—it was about spain. “represento a la corona,” you explain evenly. “no improviso tradición.”
adrián questions whether the handshake itself blurred the line. lucía remarks that the clip looked intense. your father listens more than he speaks, watching the space between your words. isabel studies your expression carefully as you clarify that sophia chose her system, and you upheld yours. the difference, you insist, is not hostility but identity.
isabel points out that american commentators claim sophia “stood her ground.” you agree without resistance. she did. that answer shifts something subtle at the table. adrián notes that respect is evident in your tone, and lucía presses further, asking—half teasing, half serious—whether you actually like her.
“eso no importa,” you reply quietly, though the answer lingers longer than intended.
dinner continues as the second course is placed before you. the quiet choreography of service never falters. outside, a car door shuts its faint radio chatter hums briefly before dissolving into the background. the world beyond the room feels distant, contained.
your mother leans back slightly and observes that the narrative forming is predictable monarchy versus democracy, "tradición contra modernidad." you respond, “no es tan simple,” you say.
sophia questions what she inherited, you protect what you inherited. those positions may appear oppositional, but they are not inherently hostile.
your father remarks that restraint can sometimes look like defiance. you acknowledge the risk but maintain that you were not challenging her, nor was she challenging you. adrián remains skeptical about how the optics will evolve.
"social media," lucía adds, "does not care about nuance."
you agree with that. narrative spreads faster than intention.
isabel’s voice softens slightly when she reminds you that you knew what your bow would provoke. you admit that you did. she asks if you are certain the situation will not escalate. you hold her gaze and assure her that sophia is not reckless. strategic, yes. calculated, certainly. but not reckless.
that does not go unnoticed.
conversation gradually returns to trade agreements and diplomatic scheduling, yet the earlier exchange remains beneath every topic. the machinery of monarchy continues—measured, dignified, uninterrupted—but the moment in brussels lingers like unfinished punctuation.
somewhere across the atlantic, sophia laforteza is likely seated beneath her own chandelier, dissecting the same interaction from a different angle.
the difference remains simple. you bowed. she didn’t.
the tension never really dissolved. it simply settled into the room like a second atmosphere—thick, invisible, pressing gently against your ribs.
you find yourself picking at your food more than eating it, pushing delicate portions across porcelain while adrián continues discussing shifting alliances in eastern europe and trade instability in south america. normally you would challenge him, refine his points, sharpen the edges of the argument. tonight, you mostly agree. the global debate over monarchy and democracy feels louder than usual, echoing through every headline, every pundit panel, every careless tweet dissecting your bow as if it were legislation.
lucía notices you haven’t touched your wine. isabel notices everything.
“estás muy callada,” your mother says softly.
“i’m listening,” you answer, though your fork remains suspended above your plate.
adrián continues, explaining how younger populations are pushing back against inherited systems worldwide. your father adds measured commentary about stability, about legacy institutions surviving precisely because they adapt without appearing to bend. the words blur together—inheritance, mandate, symbolism, reform. it all feels theoretical until it isn’t.
until it’s you.
the conversation circles back, subtly but unmistakably, to brussels. to optics. to what your gesture means in a world already questioning structure. you set your fork down. the scrape of your chair against the floor is sharp enough to slice through the room. every servant along the wall straightens instinctively. adrián stops mid-sentence.
you rise smoothly, straightening your pant-suit with a calm manner. your expression is composed, almost detached, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders that isabel immediately registers.
“i have a flight that leaves in an hour,” you say evenly, looking first at your mother, then at your father. “i have that campaign for ralph lauren—in new york.”
lucía blinks. “tonight?”
“yes.”
adrián studies you carefully. “that’s sudden.”
“it was scheduled,” you reply. “we discussed it.”
“we discussed it as a possibility,” isabel corrects gently. her gaze isn’t angry—it’s searching. “no mencionaste que salías esta noche.”
you hold her eyes. “it’s confirmed.” your father leans back slightly in his chair, fingers interlaced. “security is prepared?”
“yes.”
“media?” adrián asks.
“they’ll know when i land.”
a pause settles again, but this one feels different—less about brussels, more about distance. isabel stands slowly now, mirroring you without realizing it. “is this about the coverage?” she asks quietly.
“no,” you answer, steady. “it’s about visibility.”
lucía’s brows knit together. “visibility for what?”
“for balance,” you say. “if they want to frame me as a symbol of rigid tradition, then they can also frame me as modern. i can be both.” adrián exhales faintly, almost impressed despite himself. “you’re counterprogramming.”
you don’t smile. “i’m managing narrative.”
your father’s expression shifts—approval layered beneath restraint. “be careful not to look reactive.”
“i’m not reacting,” you respond. “i’m moving.”
isabel steps closer, lowering her voice. “y sophia?”
the question is quiet, but it lands heavier than the rest. you don’t hesitate. “this has nothing to do with her.”
your mother studies you for a long moment, as if measuring whether that’s entirely true. then she nods once. “muy bien,” she says softly. “call when you land.”
you nod your head in acknowledgment.
security outside the room is already adjusting, subtle signals passing between earpieces. plans rearranging in real time.
as you walk toward the exit, the weight of monarchy and democracy still hums in your thoughts—but so does manhattan. runways. cameras. a different kind of power entirely.
behind you, the dinner resumes in quieter tones.
ahead of you, the united states waits.
the descent into new york happens under a sky that hasn’t quite decided whether it’s still night or already morning. from the window of the g650, the city appears first as a distant constellation, then as something much sharper. even from this height, it looks restless.
the landing is smooth, almost quiet. the aircraft glides onto the private runway with practiced ease, engines lowering into a steady hum as the plane rolls toward the waiting ground crew. the moment it slows to a stop, movement begins outside. black suvs already line the edge of the tarmac, headlights glowing against the cool gray of early morning.
security doesn’t waste time.
by the time the cabin door opens, agents are already positioned around the aircraft. the stairs unfold and cold new york air pushes briefly into the warm interior of the jet. you descend without hesitation, your coat draped over your shoulders and your pant-suit still crisp from the flight. the pace here feels noticeably faster than madrid. even the air feels sharper.
a security officer gestures toward the convoy waiting a short distance away. the door of the first suv opens before you reach it, and within seconds you’re inside. the vehicle pulls forward immediately, the rest of the convoy sliding into place behind it like a quiet procession.
the city begins to wake as you drive in.
traffic thickens gradually as the suvs move toward manhattan, weaving smoothly through early commuters and delivery trucks. from behind the tinted glass, the skyline rises higher with every passing minute. glass towers catch the faint morning light while construction cranes hang motionless against the sky.
your phone vibrates on the seat beside you.
then again.
and again.
the notifications appear faster than you care to read them. news alerts, social media posts, articles already being written before you’ve even reached the city. someone at the runway must have spotted the aircraft because the headlines begin forming in real time.
international outlets report your arrival within minutes. photos taken from a distance are already circulating—images of you descending the jet stairs, your coat shifting in the wind while security stands at attention nearby. other pictures capture the moment you stepped into the suv, bodyguards forming a quiet perimeter around you.
most of the headlines notice the same thing.
you arrived in new york alone.
no spanish delegation. no royal family.
just you and a line of security vehicles disappearing into manhattan traffic.
martín scrolls through the updates beside you, his tablet lighting briefly in the dim interior of the car. he watches the posts accumulate with the calm focus of someone used to monitoring narrative before it spirals.
“they picked it up faster than expected,” he says after a moment. “media is focusing on the optics.”
you glance at him briefly. “what optics?”
he tilts the tablet slightly. "tu llegada. los guardaespaldas. the fact that you came without anyone from the family. they’re framing it as a statement.”
you return your gaze to the window.
the buildings outside are taller now, tighter together. manhattan’s streets begin to close around the convoy as it turns onto the upper east side, where brownstones and quiet avenues replace the chaotic rush of downtown.
the suvs slow as they approach a townhouse that has been transformed overnight into a production set.
lighting rigs stretch across the sidewalk. equipment trucks sit parked bumper to bumper. assistants move quickly between open doors carrying garment racks, makeup cases, and trays of coffee. even at this early hour, the energy is relentless.
the moment your car door opens, the pace shifts around you.
security steps out first, scanning the street while assistants instinctively move aside. you exit the vehicle and are guided toward the entrance of the townhouse, two guards walking slightly ahead while two others remain close behind. cameras aren’t present yet, but phones are already lifted from across the street.
inside, the building hums with activity.
stylists move garments between rooms with careful urgency while makeup artists prepare their stations along mirrored counters. Someone adjusts lighting equipment near the staircase while another assistant rushes past carrying a steamer that hisses softly into the air.
the creative director approaches quickly, greeting you with the slightly breathless energy of someone balancing art and logistics at the same time. he thanks you for arriving on schedule and explains that the team intends to begin shooting earlier than planned now that everything is in place.
you nod politely as you’re guided upstairs toward the styling room.
the moment you step inside, the room reorganizes itself around you. two stylists immediately begin adjusting the fit of your blazer, smoothing fabric along your shoulders while discussing color palettes and tailoring details with quiet focus.
one stylist explains that the first look will emphasize understated power. clean lines. traditional tailoring. a visual language meant to suggest legacy without explicitly naming it.
another assistant walks in holding a tablet, clearly trying to keep her voice controlled despite the excitement in the room. she mentions that paparazzi photos from the runway gate are already spreading online. images of the convoy. images of your arrival. images showing the bodyguards surrounding you as you stepped out of the vehicle.
the photos are everywhere now.
and in every one of them, the same observation appears beneath the headlines.
you came to new york without your family.
standing in front of the mirror, you watch your reflection while the stylists continue their adjustments around you. the room moves quickly with voices overlapping, fabric shifting, assistants moving in and out with quiet urgency but you remain still in the center of it all.
you remain seated in front of the mirror while a stylist pins the sleeve of your blazer, adjusting the line so the shoulder falls exactly where the campaign director wants it. the look is sharp—structured, confident, deliberately understated. it’s the kind of tailoring that carries authority without ever raising its voice.
across the room, martín quietly reviews messages on his phone while a makeup artist organizes brushes along the counter. someone calls for a lighting test from the hallway. another assistant rushes past carrying garment bags.
for a moment, the noise fades into something distant.
you watch your reflection while the stylist smooths fabric along your shoulder. the exhaustion from the flight sits somewhere behind your eyes, hidden beneath composure.
then the door opens.
no one pays attention at first. people enter and exit the room constantly—assistants, coordinators, photographers checking on timing. but the voice that follows cuts cleanly through the room.
"okay, stop touching the blazer.”
the accent is unmistakably thick.
the stylist pinning your sleeve freezes mid-adjustment. a few assistants glance up in confusion.
standing in the doorway is mateo rivera, leaning casually against the frame like he owns the building. his dark curls are slightly messier than the last time you saw him, and he’s dressed entirely in black like every stylist in manhattan—but with just enough attitude in the way he stands to make it obvious he’s not part of the morning’s official team.
for a second, you simply stare.
mateo raises a brow. “wow. that’s the reaction i get?”
the room shifts as people begin to recognize him. a few whispers ripple quietly through the assistants.
“you weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” you say, still trying to process the sight of him standing there.
he pushes himself off the doorframe and walks into the room like he’s been invited all along. “yeah, well, i saw the headlines this morning and figured you might need someone who actually knows how to style you.”
one of the stylists laughs nervously, stepping aside as mateo circles behind your chair.
you can’t help the small smile that appears before you manage to hide it.
mateo reaches forward and adjusts the collar of your blazer with quick, practiced fingers. “they’re doing the heritage angle, huh?” he murmurs, studying the tailoring. “classic power, clean silhouette… very upper east side meets european dynasty.”
“it’s ralph lauren,” you say.
“yeah,” he replies easily. “i can see that.”
he steps back to examine the look again, tilting his head slightly before making a small approving sound.
the room continues moving around you—assistants adjusting lighting, stylists checking garments but the sudden familiarity of mateo’s presence softens something in your chest.
you don’t have many friends.
royal life doesn’t allow for that easily. most relationships come with expectations attached—diplomatic, political, strategic. over time, the people who remain closest to you are often the ones who work alongside you every day.
your team.
mateo was originally hired three years ago for a paris fashion event. somewhere between fittings and press calls, he became one of the few people who speaks to you like you’re simply another twenty-two-year-old woman instead of a symbol.
he notices the way you’ve gone quiet.
“you okay?” he asks, lowering his voice slightly.
you glance at the mirror again. the reflection looking back at you is perfectly composed—hair styled, makeup beginning to take shape, blazer fitted precisely along your shoulders.
but the past twenty-four hours sit heavily behind that image.
“i’m fine,” you say.
mateo doesn’t look convinced. he leans casually against the counter beside you. “you flew straight from madrid, right?”
“yes.”
“and now you’re here shooting a campaign while the internet thinks you’re in some political rivalry with america’s first daughter?”
you glance at him almost amused and intrigued, “that’s… a very simplified version,” you say.
he shrugs. “still sounds exhausting.”
the makeup artist finishes blending foundation along your cheek while the lighting team calls for the first camera test downstairs. mateo watches the room for a moment before nudging your shoulder lightly.
“you know,” he says quietly, “for someone who just crossed the atlantic overnight and apparently started an international debate, you look annoyingly calm.”
you let out the faintest breath of amusement, “composure is expected,” you reply.
mateo smirks. “yeah, well. i’m still glad i came.”
for the first time since landing in new york, the room feels slightly less overwhelming. not quieter—still buzzing with assistants, stylists, and photographers preparing for the shoot—but steadier. someone calls that the cameras are ready.
mateo straightens your collar one last time before stepping aside.
“alright,” he says with an easy grin. “go be iconic.”
the afternoon in washington carries a slower rhythm than new york.
inside the white house, the noise of the city fades behind thick walls and polished corridors. staff move through the halls with quiet efficiency—press aides carrying folders, secret service agents positioned in their usual places, the distant murmur of phones ringing somewhere down the west wing. the building is alive in its usual way, but the private residence above it feels almost insulated from the constant machinery of government.
sophia’s room sits at the far end of one of the upstairs corridors, a space that balances history with something unmistakably modern. tall windows overlook the south lawn, letting in pale afternoon light that stretches across hardwood floors and the edge of a worn leather couch pushed against the wall.
books are stacked unevenly on the coffee table beside an open laptop, and a half-empty coffee cup sits dangerously close to a pile of briefing papers that sophia had promised herself she would read earlier.
she hasn’t touched them which is a common occurence.
instead, she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch in an oversized georgetown sweatshirt, her dark hair pulled loosely back while she scrolls through her phone with the careful focus of someone pretending not to care about what she’s reading.
across from her, megan is draped sideways in an armchair with the casual posture of someone who has spent enough time in this room to feel at home. lara sits on the floor near the coffee table, leaning back against the couch with her phone in hand, occasionally glancing up at sophia as if measuring her reactions.
“okay,” megan says finally, lifting her own phone, “i’m just going to say it.”
sophia sighs without looking up. “please don’t.”
“she’s in new york.”
lara snorts softly.
sophia slowly lowers her phone to her lap. “i’m aware.”
“you’re aware?” megan repeats, eyebrows rising. “sophia, it’s everywhere. she landed like three hours ago. private runway, full security detail, straight to some ralph lauren shoot. the internet is losing its mind.”
lara turns her phone toward sophia. on the screen is a photo already making the rounds online—you stepping out of a black suv on an upper east side street, bodyguards flanking you while assistants rush around with garment bags and lighting equipment.
the caption reads something dramatic about royal poise meeting manhattan power.
sophia glances at it for exactly one second before looking away, “media loves a narrative,” she mutters.
“yeah,” megan says, leaning forward slightly. “and apparently the narrative is that you two are in some kind of international rivalry.”
sophia grabs the nearest pillow and tosses it lightly at her, “stop saying it like that.”
“i’m not saying it,” megan replies, catching the pillow. “the internet is.”
lara scrolls through another article. “okay, this one says the bow was ‘a symbolic assertion of monarchy over democratic informality.’"
sophia groans, “oh my god. kill me now.”
“she did bow though,” lara adds casually.
sophia rubs a hand over her face. “yes. i was there.”
megan tilts her head, studying her friend carefully. “you didn’t bow back.”
“that’s not how this works,” sophia says automatically.
lara raises a brow and a finger in a nerd-like manner which pulls a laugh from megan. “apparently it is how it works in spain.”
sophia leans back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. the whole situation feels surreal now that she’s back home—like something that happened in a different world entirely.
megan grins. “the clip looks kind of intense.”
“that’s because cameras love awkward pauses.”
lara scrolls again. “this article says the eye contact lasted five seconds.”
sophia sits up immediately. “that’s not accurate.”
megan raises a finger. “so you were counting?”
sophia throws another pillow.
this one hits lara instead.
lara laughs, tossing it aside while megan watches sophia with quiet amusement. beneath the teasing, she knows her friend well enough to notice the subtle tension in the room—the way sophia keeps glancing at her phone even when she pretends not to care.
“okay,” megan says more gently, “serious question.”
sophia eyes her cautiously, “what?”
“do you actually hate her?”
sophia doesn’t answer right away.
she reaches for her phone again, opening the same photo lara showed her earlier. y/n stands in the middle of a manhattan sidewalk surrounded by stylists and security, her posture perfectly composed despite the chaos around her.
the image captures something sophia remembers clearly from brussels—that steady confidence, the calm that never quite felt like arrogance but definitely wasn’t humility either.
sophia exhales slowly.
“she’s… intense,” she settles on.
megan nods thoughtfully.
“yeah,” she says. “that tracks.”
outside the tall windows, the south lawn stretches quietly toward the fading afternoon light while reporters continue circling the white house gates beyond the iron fence.
inside sophia’s room, three friends sit surrounded by half-finished iced coffee and headlines they pretend not to care about.
after a moment, lara glanced up at sophia with the unmistakable expression of someone who had been thinking something for a while and had finally decided to say it.
“well… it doesn’t help that you two are still basically still unacquainted,” she said thoughtfully, rolling another grape between her fingers before eating it. “especially since she’s literally one of the hottest people on earth.”
sophia blinked slowly.
megan paused mid-scroll and lifted her head.
both of them stared at lara with matching disbelief.
lara immediately scoffed at the reaction as if they were the unreasonable ones. she waved her hand dismissively and leaned forward, clearly unwilling to back down from the observation she had just made.
“oh, don't even,” she said. “we may not like her, but we’re not blind either.”
without waiting for permission, lara grabbed her phone and leaned toward the couch, pushing the screen directly toward sophia and megan so they could see the image she had pulled up.
“look at her, dude.”
the photo filling the screen was already everywhere online. it had clearly been taken earlier that morning in new york—one of the images circulating from the moment you arrived at the ralph lauren shoot. in it, you were stepping out of the back of a black suv. stylists and assistants moved quickly around you carrying garment bags and equipment, while bodyguards formed a subtle perimeter nearby.
but none of that was what caught the eye first.
you stood in the center of the image wearing a sharply tailored suit that somehow balanced formal authority with an unmistakably feminine edge. the structure of the blazer framed your shoulders cleanly while the fabric softened at the waist, giving the whole look a sense of deliberate elegance. your coat shifted slightly in the wind as you stepped onto the sidewalk, one hand adjusting the sleeve while your gaze remained steady ahead of you.
even in a still photo, there was something magnetic about the way you carried herself. you weren't posing for the cameras. you weren't performing for attention.
you simply seemed to have it.
megan leaned forward a little closer to the screen before leaning back again in her chair.
she hesitated before speaking, clearly reluctant to admit anything that might support lara’s argument.
“…that is a really good photo,” she said carefully.
lara straightened with visible satisfaction, clearly feeling validated.
sophia, however, hadn’t said anything yet.
her eyes lingered on the image a second longer than she probably intended. seeing you in this setting felt strange after the formal atmosphere of brussels. there was something different about you here—less ceremonial, more fluid but the same quiet confidence remained unmistakable.
sophia eventually leaned back into the couch again, exhaling slowly as lara pulled the phone away.
“this conversation is ridiculous,” she muttered, rubbing a hand across her face.
megan tilted her head slightly, studying sophia with quiet amusement. the reaction alone seemed more interesting than the photo.
lara simply reached into the bowl for another grape, entirely unbothered.
“all i'm saying,” she continued casually while chewing, “is that if the media insists on turning this into some dramatic rivalry between you and a spanish princess, the least they could do is make it entertaining.”
sophia grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it toward her without much warning.
lara caught it easily, laughing as she dropped it beside her on the floor. the movement broke whatever tension had built in the room, and megan shook her head with a quiet smile.
outside the windows, reporters continued gathering near the white house gates while headlines about new york and brussels continued spreading across every news feed.
inside sophia’s room, the conversation had somehow devolved into judging the attractiveness of a european royal who was currently on the other side of the country.
sophia leaned back against the couch again, trying to look uninterested.
the problem was that lara hadn’t been entirely wrong.
lara had abandoned the grapes entirely by that point. her attention had shifted fully to the laptop balanced across her knees as she and megan leaned shoulder to shoulder over the screen like two teenagers who had just discovered something far more entertaining than the news cycle.
megan scooted closer on the floor beside her, eyes lighting up the moment the video started playing. the faint sound of dramatic music filled the room while quick edits of you flashed across the screen—photos from royal events, clips from interviews, slow-motion footage from the NATO reception in brussels.
lara let out a small gasp.
“oh my god.”
megan clutched lara’s arm, half laughing as another transition cut to a slow-motion clip of you stepping out of the suv in new york earlier that day.
“stop—why are they editing her like a marvel character?” megan said, though she didn’t look away from the screen.
another edit started automatically, this one layered with text that read “spain’s most dangerous export.”
both girls burst into loud, barely contained squeals that echoed around the room.
“okay, wait, that one was insane,” lara said, covering her mouth as if she had just witnessed something scandalous.
megan leaned closer to the screen again, clearly invested now. “no, scroll. there literally has to be more, bro.”
the two of them had completely forgotten they weren’t alone.
across the room, sophia sat quietly on the couch, her posture relaxed but noticeably still. her phone rested in her hands, the screen glowing faintly against her fingers as she scrolled through something with a level of concentration that suggested she was very intentionally ignoring the chaos happening three feet away.
another edit played on the laptop. more squealing followed. then, slowly, both lara and megan looked up.
their eyes moved from the laptop to sophia almost at the exact same moment. she hadn’t noticed or maybe she had—and was pretending she hadn’t.
either way, she was clearly focused on her phone, her brows drawn slightly together as she scrolled.
lara’s eyes narrowed immediately while megan tilted her head, turning to each other as they exchanged a silent look.
then megan slowly stood up and walked over to the couch, peering down toward sophia’s phone with exaggerated curiosity.
sophia glanced up briefly, already suspicious, “what?”
megan didn’t answer right away. instead she looked back toward lara, who was now staring openly from the floor.
megan’s expression shifted into something deeply amused, “oh my god.”
sophia frowned slightly.
“what?”
megan pointed a finger toward her, the accusation forming before sophia could even react. “oh my god,” megan repeated, louder this time, a grin spreading across her face. “you so think she’s hot.”
sophia stared at her like she had just suggested something completely absurd, “what are you talking about?”
lara snapped the laptop shut and turned fully toward the couch, her eyes lighting up as realization set in. “oh my god,” she echoed, dragging out every word dramatically. “she does.”
sophia sat up straighter, immediately defensive. "i do not.”
but the problem was that neither of them looked convinced. megan crossed her arms, clearly enjoying herself now. “sophia.”
“what?”
“you’ve been staring at your phone for like five minutes.”
sophia held the phone up slightly as if that alone was evidence enough, “dude—yeah. because it’s my phone.”
lara stood up and walked closer, peering suspiciously at the screen, “and what exactly are you looking at?” she asked.
sophia didn’t answer immediately. which was exactly the hesitation both of them needed. lara gasped and megan grabbed the phone before sophia could react.
“megan—”
too late.
megan turned the screen toward lara.
on it was the exact same photo that had been circulating all day—you stepping out of the suv, coat shifting slightly in the wind while cameras flashed in the background.
lara looked back at sophia slowly with a grin that was almost evil. “oh,” she said quietly. “you are so cooked.”
sophia reached forward and snatched her phone back, glaring at both of them, "i was reading an article.”
megan collapsed onto the couch beside her, laughing openly now.
“sure you were.”
lara leaned against the coffee table, shaking her head in disbelief. “our first daughter,” she said dramatically, “down bad for a spanish princess.”
sophia threw the nearest pillow at her again.
this time lara didn’t even try to dodge it.
the laughter and teasing had barely started to die down when a firm knock sounded at the door, sharp enough to cut through the room’s easy rhythm. everyone froze mid-movement—lara still leaning against the coffee table, megan halfway through a laugh, and sophia herself gripping her phone as if it were a lifeline.
“ms. laforteza?” a calm, authoritative voice called from outside. “lunch is ready.”
sophia’s brows furrowed. even with the casual tone, the presence behind the door was impossible to ignore. the security detail rarely intruded on these moments, but this particular announcement carried weight—some things simply couldn’t wait.
she straightened, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “thanks,” she replied, her voice steady despite the sudden interruption.
megan and lara exchanged glances, both suppressing snickers at the abrupt end to their little “girl sleepover” chaos. megan muttered something under her breath about the timing being impeccable, while lara rolled her eyes, already nudging toward the door.
sophia rose from the couch, smoothing her sweatshirt and grabbing her phone for one last glance at the screen before slipping it into her bag. her friends fell in line behind her as they followed the agent down the hallway.
outside, the corridors were quiet, but the activity from the rest of the residence reminded them all that life in the white house never really paused. the three of them moved together, stepping from the informal bubble of the room into the more structured environment waiting just beyond the door. lunch waited and with it, the careful balance of conversation and composure expected at every meal here.