Cherri watches Honey move with that effortless, feline grace, her gaze tracking the other woman from the chair to the kitchen. There is a flicker of genuine intrigue in Cherriâs eyes; she respects the confidence, the way Honey wears her self-assurance like a second skin. Itâs rare to find someone so entirely unburdened by the weight of other people's expectations. "You've got the magnetism, Iâll give you that," Cherri begins, her voice smooth but carrying a distinct edge of conviction. She leans back, crossing her arms as she meets Honeyâs thoughtful gaze. "And I can appreciate knowing exactly where you stand with someone. Boundaries are clean." She pauses, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth as she thinks about the man she'd slept with last night - the one with the girlfriend. "The 'one-night thing with a guy whoâs already spoken for? Thatâs a hard no from me, Honey. I don't mind messing around behind her back but I'm not going to steal him." Cherri shifts in her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, creating a small, guarded fortress of herself. The movement is fluid, but thereâs a definitive weight to itâa physical retreat into her own principles. She rests her chin on her knee, looking over at Honey with a look that is both perceptive and entirely settled. "I know he's a cheat," she says, her voice steady and devoid of any lingering affection for the man in question. "Iâm under no illusions about that. And honestly? I don't need to be dating a guy like that in my life, relationship-wise." She lets out a short, huffed breath, a small shrug of her shoulders indicating how little space he actually occupies in her long-term plans. "He was around for a fun time, but definitely not a long time," she adds, her tone clipping the end of the sentence to show heâs already been relegated to the past. "I can appreciate the distraction for what it was, but Iâve got too much respect for my own peace to let a man like that stick around long enough to leave a mess."
Honey cast a sideways glance toward Cherri, that familiar, permanent smirk playing at the corners of her lips as if she were always in on a joke no one else quite understood. There was a quiet confidence in the way she carried herself, something unshakable and deeply rooted. âI know what Iâm doing with people, plus I donât let people walk all over me. I say it how it is. I donât care what other people think of me because I am who I am to my core. I donât bend to what everyone else wants me to be,â she said with a casual shrug, like it was the simplest truth in the world. And for Honey, it was. She had always been this way, loud when she wanted to be, unapologetic in every space she occupied, and entirely comfortable in her own skin. There was no performance in it, no attempt to win approval; if people liked her, they stayed, and if they didnât, she let them drift away without a second thought. It never seemed to leave a mark on her. Moving with easy confidence, Honey poured herself a drink, the soft clink of glass punctuating the moment before she turned and made her way back to the couch. She sat down near Cherri, leaving just enough space so it didnât feel intrusive, but still close enough to keep the conversation intimate. Crossing one leg over the other, she tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting from playful to genuinely curious. âSo long-term,â she began, lifting her glass slightly as she spoke, âwhat would you look for in a partner? Who or what would be someone who interested you?â Honey wanted to know if she had any friends who might fit the bill, or if Cherri already had her mind on someone.
