The side and back profile 🤎🛐

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Macao SAR China
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States

seen from India
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
The side and back profile 🤎🛐
“we need more complex female characters” the second women start showing a glimpse of emotion y’all call them over-sensitive or annoying. smh.
Bumper to Bumper
tara carpenter x g!p reader
warnings: smut 18+, penetration, breast play
summary: The core four is going on a road trip and Tara is bored in the car
words: 3102
The Core Four thought the best way to spend spring break was to go on a road trip to Florida. Almost 20 hours of driving, but you figured it wouldn't be too bad with the driving split between Chad, Sam, and yourself.
"Hell no, Miami is way too far. Let's go somewhere closer," Mindy shakes her head, rejecting her brother's suggestion.
"I agree," Sam chimes in, "there’s no reason to go that far. You guys are only off for a week anyway."
"Oh come on!" Chad whines. "Every hot babe in the country is spending their break in Miami," he says to Mindy, wiggling his eyebrows, hoping it'll convince her. "—and hot guy!" he quickly adds, glancing at the older Carpenter sister.
"Not a cougar, Chad."
"Not yet," he smirks. "But there’s also graduate students!" he reminds her, trying to make his pitch even more convincing.
And so it didn’t take much to convince Mindy and Sam. You didn’t really care where you went as long as you were with your girlfriend. Though Tara wasn’t exactly thrilled about you being surrounded by "hot babes." Thankfully your reassurance was well received by her.
A week before the trip, you made sure to remind Tara to download some movies, bring a book, or at least have something to keep her entertained during the long drive. Nearly a day on the road wasn’t going to be easy, and you knew better than anyone how quickly your girlfriend gets bored.
Your suggestions clearly went in one ear and out the other as it was now only two hours into the drive, and Tara was already staring blankly out the window, her head resting against the seat. You could almost feel the frustration radiating from her as she tapped her foot impatiently.
"How are you feeling over there, babe?" you ask, glancing over at her with a teasing smile.
Tara groans, not bothering to look at you. "This is so boring... I thought I'd at least get to watch a movie, but nooo, you guys had to stop for gas every five minutes." She rolls her eyes. "Why can't you just fill the tank all the way?"
Chad shouts from the driver's seat, clearly proud of himself. "Hey! I’m not wasting a single drop of gas. We’re only putting in what we need to get us to the next stop. This is a budget trip!"
"I swear I'll be dead before we reach North Carolina," Tara mutters, stretching out in her seat. You can’t help but chuckle, even though you feel bad for her. You knew long drives weren't her thing, but you also couldn't help the smile that played on your lips whenever she got so dramatic.
"Okay, okay," you say. "How about I tell you a story? I know you love my storytelling." Tara gives you a side eye but doesn’t reject the offer.
"Fine, but this better not be one of your stupid ‘ghost stories’ again," she warns, though you can tell she’s trying to hide a smile.
You chuckle. "No ghost stories this time, I promise. I’ll tell you about that time Mindy got stuck in the elevator for half an hour…"
Tara snorts, leaning back in her seat, clearly entertained by the idea of your story. It’s not much, but it’s enough to take her mind off the endless hours ahead.
X
Hours into the drive, the conversation had died down, leaving a comfortable silence. Tara shifted closer to you, her hand brushing against your leg. You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Baby, I’m so bored," she whispered, her voice soft but purposeful, grazing your ear.
Chad had been driving for about three hours now, with only three more before Sam would take over for the next six-hour stretch. Over the last few hours, Tara had slowly inched her way closer to you, practically glued to your side, cuddling into you though, honestly, you weren’t complaining.
She leaned in again, her lips barely grazing your ear as she whispered, “I’ve got some ideas for how we can pass the time…” Her tone was teasing, and you could feel your pulse quicken and your cock harden in response.
You knew exactly what she meant. That look in her eyes—the same one you saw for the first time that night in her dorm a year ago. And now, here she was again, sitting next to you in the back of a seven-seater Sam rented for this trip, that same mischievous glint in her eyes. She wanted you to fuck her.
You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Mindy, who was listening to music in the seat in front of you. “Uh… no, your sister’s right there, and we could get caught,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.
Tara pouted, clearly not pleased with your response. She sighed dramatically, then slid down and rested her head on your lap, her body curling comfortably against yours. For a moment, you thought she’d given up, but then her hand found yours, resting on her hip, and slowly slid it upwards.
Your breath hitched, and you glanced nervously at Mindy, but she was still blind to the world around her, listening to her music. And Sam was talking to Chad about something in the passenger seat. Tara’s eyes met yours, and you hesitated for a moment, not being able to decide if you want to take the risk.
You accept defeat and let Tara slowly drag your hand under her shirt. All you could do is look into her eyes that were starting back at yours. She goes higher and higher and you realize she isn't wearing a fucking bra. She smirks at your realization, and shrugs coyly. Her hand leaves your, and now your left hand is just placed on her bare chest. The next move up to you.
You sigh before you take your fore finger and thumb and graze it across her left nipple, assessing how good she'll be at being quiet. Her expression changes immediately and she let's out a gasp that's a bit too loud for comfort.
You freeze. And so does Tara. Luckily no one heard. You begin to take your hand away from under her shirt, but she slaps her hand onto your arm. And mouths, "No, I'll be quiet."
You hesitate not sure if you should listen to your girlfriend's words. In all the times you've been intimate with Tara, she was anything but quiet. You were convinced all of Blackmore knew you by name and you didn't even go there.
But this situation just excited you too much, and you were way too far gone and started thinking with your dick.
You bring your fingers back up to her nipple and roll it between your fingers, feeling it get hard almost immediately. Your eyes darken further at the feeling. The confidence in Tara's eyes disappeared immediately and replaced with a blissful look, yearning for your touch. Fuck she looked pathetic. Exactly how you liked it.
"How about the other one?" she whispers.
You nod, and let your fingers trail to her other nipple, giving it the exact treatment as you did the left nipple. From your past experiences with Tara you knew that nipple play was enough to make her cum, and you weren't sure if that's what you wanted in this exact situation.
Thinking about her cunt that was probably dripping wet for you right now, was killing you. Your cock was throbbing in your joggers, begging to be let out. But you had no plans to fuck your girlfriend in the back of this van.
"Y/n," Sam suddenly calls out to you from the front seat. "Is this your first time heading to Florida?"
You jolt at the sudden question, and casually answer Sam's question while still playing with Tara's nipple. "Yup, never really had a reason to head down there, what about you?"
Sam responds and you continue to have small talk with her while making her little sister squirm on your lap.
Suddenly while you were mid-sentence defending New York pizza, Tara brings her top down letting you what you've been working on for the past twenty minutes. Her hard nipples on full display.
"I—uh, it's..."
"See! Woodsboro may be a lot of things, but we have the best pizza. You can't even come up with an argument."
I could. But I'm too busy gawking at your sister's boobs.
"Yeah I guess you got me there Sam," you sigh, loud enough for her to hear, while shooting Tara wide eyes for her ballsy move.
You remove your hands abruptly and keep it to yourself. Forcing yourself to look out the window next to you. You could not keep doing this with Tara unless she wanted to get caught, and you only recently got in Sam's good books, you can't risk losing your place.
Tara sits up next to you after adjusting her top, and clings right back up to you. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'll be more careful," she whispers into your ear.
You don't budge and continue to look out the window.
"Please touch me Y/n."
Your dick twitched at the desperation in her voice. God you were going to bust right in your fucking pants. Why did you have to have such a hot fucking girlfriend?
Tara clearly took notice of your pants and smiled. "Fine, you do the being quiet then."
She then palms your member over the material of your pants and you take in a sharp breath. "Tara." you warn her.
"Relax, just don't make a sound."
You let her run her hand up and down your clothed cock and sigh, pushing yourself further into her touch. Your breaths were becoming uneven, and slightly louder.
Clearly Tara wasn't afraid of getting caught and she took it upon herself to move her hand under your jogger, now above your boxers. Only one layer of clothing between her hand and your cock.
She almost moans at the heat radiating from your member, the slight twitches weren't helping her keep her cool either. She moved her hand lower towards the head, and could feel the wetness of your precum through your boxers. She took this as the sign to rub her thumb over the slit of your tip which she could feel over your undergarments.
You let out a muffled moan, covering your mouth with your arm sleeve. You look at Tara who has her full attention on your pants. You know she wanted to see her work. She wanted to see how hard she got your throbbing cock, just like you had wanted to see her hard nipples.
After making sure everyone in the car had their attention elsewhere, you decided to return the favor and slowly lift your hips up so you can slide your joggers down with your boxers.
Your dick springs out and slaps against your stomach, your cock was at it's full length and Tara watched in amazement. Even after a year of being together she was amazed at the size of your member.
She was getting ready to put her hair back in a ponytail when suddenly Mindy began to take her earbuds out, and she turned around to you both. Luckily you were able to throw a hoodie over your lap in records time, covering your hard dick.
"Tar do you think you could reach over and grab some snacks from the trunk?" the twin asks clearly hungry.
"Yeah of course," she answers, turning to face the back of the van, bent over to grab snacks from where the group had left all their baggage.
Looking at her ass was clearly the bad move, as you were already struggling to hide the tent in your pants.
"How you holding up Y/n?" Mindy suddenly asked you.
"I'm good, it's honestly nice sitting in the back. Pretty spacious."
"Yeah, I'm totally sitting there on the ride back."
Fortunately, Tara was able to grab something for Mindy to munch on and you didn't need to talk to her any longer. With a quick thanks. Mindy put her earbuds back on, and started away at the snacks.
Tara sees your cock switch again under the hoodie and decided to waste no more time. While using the hoodie as a cover, she spit in her right palm and immediately got to work on your shaft. Slowly sliding up and down at a pace that was ruining you. You buck your hips into her hand needing more contact, your desire for touch taking over all your senses.
"Tara you're so little I can't even see you above these seats."
You could see Sam due to your height, she turned around looking right at you, but she was right. The row of seats in front of you where Mindy was sitting was completely hiding Tara from view even with her sitting upright. So Sam was one less person to worry about unless one of us make a sound.
Tara continues rubbing you out one while responding to her sister like you had done earlier. "Oh no way," she fakes interest. And then suddenly you see an idea pop into her head.
She removes her hand wrapped around your cock and plops herself down on your lap, just in front of your raging boner. "I guess I'll have to sit on Y/n's lap if you want to see me," she laughs lightly.
Sam just smiles and brings her attention back to the front, looking at the GPS.
You thought after she turned back around Tara would go back to her usual seat but no she had a different idea. She lifted her hips slightly just enough where you could see her ruined panties under her skirt, and she turned to look at you expectantly.
"Tara we can't," you mutter. Not believing these words were coming out of your mouth but it was just too risky.
Tara doesn't say anything and just drops her covered cunt onto your cock. And then she begins to slowly rock her hips back and forth, using you as she pleases.
You groan at the contact, and she's covering her own mouth too as she let's her pace pick up, your cock clearly rubbing the places she needs you the most.
During her aggressive movements against you, her panties must've moved to the side, because you could feel the wetness of her pussy now rubbing full contact against you cock, her pussy lips sandwiches your length while she moves herself forward and back.
The direct contact on her pussy makes her moan. And this time someone heard.
"Did you say something?" Chad asks no one in particular.
Tara takes it upon herself to answer. "Just telling Y/n/n how good these snacks are!" she manages to say without causing for suspicion.
Tara looks back at you again, while she rocks on your dick. "Just fuck me already," she whispers with desperation.
You decided that you were basically enacting the motions of sex and it wouldn't be the end of the world if you actually did fuck your girlfriend. But maybe that was just horny brain talking.
You gently lift her up by her hips with both hands, and line her hole up with your fully erect dick. You then give her the pass to lower herself, and she does. And you wonder why you ever refused the idea of secret van sex. You should have done this hours ago.
Tara is breathing a lot heavier as she is slowly rising up and down your shaft letting herself feel the entirety of you cock. You want to push your hips up to meet her cunt, but you fear the noise of your balls pounding against her ass will give you away to the group immediately.
"Oh I love this song! Chad turn it up!" Mindy exclaims, taking her earbuds out once again.
You and Tara look at each other. The music was booming in the car. You looked at everyone else in the car, and their lips were moving but you couldn't hear a single thing that was being said. And that only meant one thing. You could make sound.
You quickly lift Tara's hips up and hold it there, while you reverse jack hammer your dick up into her dripping pussy, the sounds only heard by you both. Tara leaned back, her mouth against your neck, as her moans muffled against you. As if she needed to be quiet right now. She was in pure bliss, and so were you as you let moans out of your own.
The song then came to an end and Chad brought the volume back to a regular level. Tara sits down fully on your cock, and you don't move either, the both of you tired from the rapid fucking you just had seconds ago.
You thought that was it. You doubt either of you wanted to cum and make a mess in the rental. But the universe had different plans as Chad switches lanes aggressively. Making Tara shift against you aggressively. And then he did it again. And so did she. And finally Sam had enough and told Chad that she'll start driving from now on.
So Chad pulls off the highway towards the pit stop. Only thing was, the parking lot for this stop was littered with speed bumps. And Chad being the horrible driver that he was didn't know that he was supposed to tap the breaks over each speed bump. Which meant that each bump that Chad would driver over, the car would rapidly shake, causing Tara to bounce on your dick. You groaned, and with each bounce you were so fucking close to letting go.
You weren't aware of the conversations that were taking place. But Mindy had to pee, Sam wanted to get snacks, and Chad wanted to stretch his legs, so it was just you and Tara left in the parked car.
"I'm close baby," you moan more comfortably aloud once Tara starting pumping herself up and down your dick after everyone left.
"You can't cum," she whines. "What if I get bored again in a few hours?"
"Then I'll take care of you, but don't make me keep this in," you groan.
Fine, she sighs. And she maintains her pace consistenly on your member, letting you reach your high.
"W—where should I cum?" you groan out in breaths, seconds away from reaching your climax.
"Inside."
And like her words was your release word, you shot your warm cum right inside your girlfriend. Already feeling a sense of relief.
Tara moans at the feeling of your fluids inside of her and smiles. "Thank you baby."
You just smile back at her lazily, and kiss her on the cheek. You both then fix yourselves to be acceptable so no suspicion is raised.
Miami was the least of your thoughts right now. You started to finally understand why people say it's about the journey, not the destination.
.JENNA ORTEGA as CAIRO SWEET and MARTIN FREEMAN as JONATHAN MILLER in MILLER’S GIRL.
Keep Your Eyes on Me
tara carpenter x female reader
part i | part ii
summary: You’ve quickly become close with all of Tara’s friends, but her trust issues keep her at a distance from you. But maybe you're able to chip away at her defenses...
word count: 2.2k
————
"I don't get why no one else is suspicious of her!" Tara exclaims looking around at everyone with a frustrated expression. "Mindy? You're literally suspicious of every living thing. And Sam what the fuck, you don't let me leave the house unless I'm carrying a cross bow or something," she exaggerates rolling her eyes.
"Why are we speaking about me like I'm not here?" You whisper to Chad next to you while ripping your string cheese into strands. He laughs but so does everyone else, seems like your whisper wasn't as quiet as you thought.
Tara groans frustrated and heads up the stairs, leaving her friends and you in the living room in an awkward silence.
Sam was the first to break it, "She'll come around, it's just been hard on her you know? Trusting new people and all that fun stuff."
You give her a nod completely understanding the root of Tara's issues with you, it wasn't personal but that didn't mean her distrust in you didn't sting. Especially considering it's been four months since you met the group.
"I am curious though," you speak, "She's not wrong Mindy, you're sus of everyone. And Sam why do you trust me too?"
"Well you met my brother playing pickle ball," the twin speaks. "Pickle ball doesn't really strike me as a psychopathic killer activity," she laughs.
"Neither does string cheese. Can you imagine Ghostface stringing their cheese and eating it?" Sam adds with a laugh.
You don't know whether to be relieved or offended that your habits don't indicate you to be a killer. But you're grateful that the rest of the group clicked with you quickly after Chad introduced you to them.
The core four minus Tara sometimes wanted to smack the girl across the head for being so oblivious and blind to you. Before you met the group Chad being the yapper that he is, explained all that happened in the past year and a half, so you were fairly well equipped with knowledge on how to navigate a friendship with everyone.
Everyone also noticed how attentive you were to Tara especially. You didn't know what it was but you immediately developed a soft spot for the girl when Chad told you all she went through. Meeting her for the first time you instinctively felt the need to protect her but that's been quite hard with her negative feelings towards you, but that doesn't mean you don't try.
————
Sam eventually goes up to Tara's room once everyone leaves and decides to put an end to this. The younger Carpenter looks at her sister from her bed when the door is opened at a speed where its hinges could fly off.
"Jesus Sam, why are we trying to break my door."
"What the hell are you doing Tara?" Sam gets to the point ignoring the question.
"What are you talking about?"
"Y/n."
"Ughhhhhh!" She turns around face planting into her pillow with a groan, hating the topic of you.
"It's been four months and you haven't once given the poor girl the benefit of the doubt." The sister says softly. "I don't know why you're so keen on hating her, it's like you want her to be Ghostface just so you can prove a point."
Tara turns around to respond, clearly annoyed. "Because it's so clear she doesn't have good intentions! I don't get you either sis, you want me to be cautious of people, but it's a problem when its Y/n?"
Sam sighs moving to sit on the foot of the bed, "Tara, do you not see how much that girl cares about you?"
Tara is silent and looks down at her fiddling hands not knowing what to say. She does know how much you care and she hates it.
All those times you would come over to her place with the excuse of "Mindy sent me to grab something" but you always stayed until Sam got home from work, just so she wouldn't have to be alone.
"Clearly you do realize how much she cares for you," Sam says taking notice of her sister's silence and demeanor.
Tara turns red recalling how you would always be attentive to the leg that Ghostface broke a year ago. You would always position yourself so she'd have access to the railing of a staircase. Offer to drive her places that may have seemed like too lengthy of a walk. Straggle behind the group when you realized she couldn't walk as fast as the others. And even deprive yourself of any physical activities that the group was participating in, so Tara wouldn't feel alone when she sat out.
"The damn girl literally sits in the kitchen whenever your hungry ass wants to cook something so you'd feel safer!" Sam suddenly says. "Even I hadn't thought about how being in the kitchen may give you PTSD."
Tara hadn't either. But now that she knew the reason why you'd sit with her in the kitchen, she realized that she did feel much more comfortable with you in there then the times you weren't. After all she did have her attack take place in the kitchen. The brown eyed girl shrunk into her sweater in shame as she recalled how poorly she treated you that day.
You leave the group who were playing an intense round of charades in the living room and decide to join Tara who was alone in the kitchen.
"Hey what are you making?" You smile.
She ignores you and continues to get the seasoning out for the mac and cheese she was making herself.
"Why aren't you playing with everyone else?" Tara suddenly spoke.
"Just wanted to see what you were up to."
"Well you can leave now," she rolls her eyes.
"I'm good, I'll stay here."
"You do know that you aren't winning any points with me by trying to talk to me and forcing proximity right?" Tara says with attitude. "I still don't trust you and if your goal isn't to kill me, but just to get in my pants, then I'm so sorry if I ever made you believe that you had a chance with me." she finishes sarcastically feigning a genuine apology.
"Not my goal," you reply keeping it short. You knew the girl would not receive anything you say, so you got up from the seat you initially took at the island in the kitchen and went to the dining table which was a little further away. Tara thought that you left since she didn't hear any comments from you anymore and her pride was too high for her to turn around and check if you were still there. She couldn't control the frown that was making its way onto her face. That was until she heard you scrolling through TikToks at the table and suddenly felt a sense of relief that couldn't be explained.
She would continue to finish her mac and cheese and tried to hide her laugh from any funny TikTok sounds she heard from your phone. And tried her hardest to shutdown her curiosity whenever she heard your laugh. As soon as she finished making her bowl, she walked out of the kitchen not even glancing at you. She was too stubborn to realize that she hadn't once thought about her attack due to your presence in the kitchen.
Until now.
"That's why I trust her Tara," Sam reveals. "She notices things that I don't. I can't always be watching out for you. You need to have a bunch who have your back, and for that to happen you need to take a chance on people here and there."
"Just think about it. Just separate your idea of Y/n being Ghostface and the possibility that she can betray you. And ask yourself what kind of person is left standing in front you. And is that the type of person you want to take a chance on."
————
Two weeks have gone by since the group last saw each other, and since then you and Tara were able to do a lot of individual thinking. Today the group decided that they went too long without seeing each other and they all decided to go to bar in downtown Manhattan.
Everyone decided to meet at the Carpenter residence, and Tara hated to admit it, but she was excited to see you, but she also felt nervous at the thought of being around you.
You were the last to arrive, and you greeted all your friends with a smile. Tara was waiting with a smile for you to greet her like you always do, but it never happened.
You ignored her.
"Is everyone ready to go?" You say looking at everyone except Tara.
The shorter girl had to compose herself before anyone realized that she was bothered by your lack of acknowledgement. She didn't know how to feel, what in the world were you doing?
The group made their way to the subway in one piece, and the two Carpenter sisters were walking side by side while everyone else was a little ahead.
"What the fuck is Y/n doing?" Tara whisper yells to her sister.
"What do you mean?" Sam replies playing stupid.
"She's not even looking at me?" Tara admits, not caring at how childish she sounds. "Why isn't she paying attention to me?"
Sam laughs at what two weeks of not seeing you and some deep reflection has done to her sister. "I mean what do you expect, it's not fair for her to keep trying for someone who doesn't make the same effort. She's probably done trying." Despite her words, Sam didn't believe a thing she was saying, she wondered what the intentions behind your actions were, but the Carpenter knew it was nothing ill.
Tara makes a hmpf sound, and tries to act unbothered by her sister's words. But the idea of you not having your gaze on her worries her more than she would like to admit.
Meanwhile 20 paces in front the sisters you and the twins are having a interesting conversation of your own.
"I can't do this anymore!" You whine looking at Mindy.
"Girl, stand the fuck up, it's been 20 minutes since we left the house, can't you see that it's already working?"
Chad chimes in, "Honestly I agree with my sister for once, she'll be yours by the end of today."
"W-whoa I don't want her to be mine or anything," you blush. "She's gone through a lot, I just need her to tolerate me, you know?"
Mindy rolls her eyes but smiles, happy that Tara has someone patient like you in her life. "Yeah yeah Y/l/n, now walk faster, it's not like she can run and catch up."
Your jaw drops while Chad drops dead in laughter.
Everyone manages to get onto the same subway cart in one piece, and you realized how much harder it was going to be acting like you can't notice Tara in here. The subway was packed from one end to the other. And you just so happened to be standing next to the only available seat.
You glance at Tara only to see her already looking at you and you immediately look away. Trying to get Mindy's attention you some how try your best to mime to her that you want Tara to sit in the free seat. Though of course Mindy's horrible charade skills translate into real life and she ends up sitting in the seat herself.
You face palm at your friend, and gave up on trying to look out for Tara. But in that very moment you notice a man getting far too close to the girl than you would like. It was a crowded cart so proximity was a given, but this seemed deliberate on the stranger's part.
Acting without thinking, you shove the guy as casually as you can to the side, not realizing that it meant you are now face to face with Tara. Just as you were about to break and speak to her, the subway doors open at your stop.
Tara hated that the doors interrupted the words you were going to say to her, but was grateful that it got her attention off of you before you could notice the blush on her cheeks.
As everyone got off the subway, you find yourself straggling behind the group out of habit. Just as you attempt to quicken your pace, you feel a tug on your sleeve.
Tara looks up at you with her big eyes, and you don't know what to do. This is the first time the girl has looked at you without rolling her eyes or looking away immediately.
"I'm sorry," she mutters.
You didn't know what to say, and continue walking with her by your side, so you don't fall too far behind from your friends. "It's okay," you mutter back looking straight ahead.
You don't blame the girl for her behaviours. Her traumas manifested into something difficult and she was making an attempt to be better. That's all that mattered to you. And maybe you were just too weak for the girl that you would let anything slide, but you were fine with that too.
Tara smiles at you, happy that you weren't giving her a hard time. Happy that you understood what those two words she just told you encapsulates.
Suddenly she grabs you by your arm and holds it as you walk side by side.
Startled by her touch you look at her.
She smiles up at you, "It's easier for you to keep your eyes on me this way. No need for secret glances."
next chapter
halfway to almost
pairing: cairo sweet & female reader
summary: cairo was always yours when no one else was looking, and that was the problem.
word count: 10.5k
author’s note: request based of back to friends by sombr
It wasn't supposed to happen again.
You had made that promise to yourself — silent and stubborn, a line drawn deep in the sand.
The first time had been a mistake. A heat-of-the-moment disaster fueled by too many drinks, too many lingering stares, too much loneliness you hadn't been willing to admit to yourself.
It was supposed to end there.
You were supposed to know better.
But mistakes didn't happen twice.
Mistakes didn't happen again and again, until you lost count of how many promises you'd broken between the spaces of her hands and your mouth.
You told yourself you were stronger than this. That whatever thin, breakable thing existed between you and Cairo could survive the bruises you both kept pressing into it. You had rules, boundaries — the kind built on tight smiles and jokes you didn't really mean. The kind that kept you safe, kept you from looking at her too long, from wanting too much.
But none of that had mattered, had it?
It never did, when it came to her.
One glance across the room. One stupid flicker of something too raw, too familiar. And then you were breathing her in like you were starved for it. Fingers twisting in her hair, pulling her closer before either of you could think. Her mouth trailing down your throat, finding every place she knew you were weakest. Clothes tugged at clumsily, buttons popping loose, jeans shoved halfway down legs before either of you even made it to the bed.
It was desperate. It was thoughtless. It was inevitable.
You couldn't even pretend you had a choice.
And now... now there was no taking it back.
You hated how easily it had happened.
You hated how easily it always happened.
The truth sat like a stone in your stomach: this wasn't just a mistake anymore. Mistakes didn't leave bruises shaped like promises on your neck. Mistakes didn't feel this good and this terrible at the same time.
You had crossed a line you couldn't uncross.
And somehow, Cairo had let you.
Maybe it had always been leading here.
Maybe you'd been pretending for too long that what you had with her was ever something clean, something safe.
It started small — like these things always do.
A hand on your back that lingered a second too long.
A look that held a little too much, turned away a little too late.
Jokes that slid too easily into flirting, into whispered words at crowded parties that made your skin flush and your heart ache in ways you refused to name.
You told yourself it was harmless.
You told yourself Cairo didn't mean anything by it.
But it was a slow kind of drowning — so slow you barely even noticed when the air ran out.
And then —
One night, it happened.
It was too late. Too dark.
Both of you too drunk on something more dangerous than alcohol — on loneliness, on wanting, on everything you were never supposed to admit.
She looked at you like she could see it all.
Like she wanted it all.
And you kissed her.
Or maybe she kissed you.
You couldn't even tell who moved first — just a messy clash of mouths and hands and need, as if the world had tilted and there was nowhere else to fall but into each other.
You remembered the way her fingers tangled in your shirt, how her mouth opened under yours like she was drowning too.
You remembered the heat of her skin against yours, the rough scrape of denim and the soft thud of the door slamming shut behind you.
You remembered the way she whispered your name like it meant something.
You remembered everything.
You hadn't meant for it to go that far.
You hadn't meant to let your hands slip under her clothes.
You hadn't meant to push her back onto the bed and follow, heart pounding so loud you swore she could hear it.
But she didn't stop you.
She pulled you closer.
And once you felt her like that — warm and real and shivering under your touch — there was no going back.
It wasn't careful.
It wasn't slow.
It was desperate. Breathless. Almost angry with how much you wanted it.
How much you wanted her.
You tried to tell yourself it didn't mean anything.
Tried to believe it was just one mistake, a stupid, drunken accident.
But the way she clung to you in the dark — the way you buried your face in the curve of her neck like you could hide there — it said everything neither of you dared to speak.
And it didn't stop with that night.
Every glance, every brush of fingers, every tight, breathless moment where you should've pulled away — you both leaned in instead.
Again and again, like moths burning themselves on the same flame.
It wasn't casual.
It wasn't simple.
It was Cairo, and it was you, and it was everything you were too scared to say out loud.
And now... here you were again.
The same bed.
The same ache under your ribs.
And this time, you knew better.
This time, you couldn't pretend it didn't mean something.
Not when it was tearing you apart.
It had always been like this.
Every time she touched you — even when it was soft, even when it was barely there — it wrecked you.
There was no difference anymore between gentle and cruel.
Her fingers in your hair, her mouth against your skin, the way she used to smile into your neck when she thought you were asleep — all of it felt like knives now.
You told yourself it was nothing.
You told yourself it didn't mean anything.
You had to.
Because otherwise, you would've broken apart months ago.
You shut your eyes against the memory — against all the memories — but it didn't matter. They lived under your skin now.
The way she'd used to look at you like you were something more, like she wanted you just as much — it was all fake. Or maybe it wasn't. You didn't know anymore, and maybe that was worse.
You shifted on the mattress, kicking the covers down as quietly as you could, trying not to brush against her.
You couldn't take even that.
Not tonight.
But even without touching her, you could still feel her.
Cairo's arm was thrown loosely across the space between you, her breathing slow and easy like this was just another night, just another mistake you could both pretend never happened.
Her fingers twitched once against the sheets — reaching for you in her sleep — and your heart stuttered so hard it hurt.
You stared up at the ceiling, your throat closing around a breath you couldn't take.
How could she be so close — warm and real and right there — and still feel like she was slipping away?
How could you lie in the same bed and feel miles apart?
You swallowed hard, blinking fast against the burn behind your eyes.
You weren't supposed to care.
You weren't supposed to care.
But you did.
You always had.
Even when you knew better.
Even when Cairo made it so easy to pretend.
You weren't dating.
You never were.
That line had stayed drawn in the sand from the beginning — messy, blurred at the edges, but never crossed.
Not officially.
Because that would mean admitting it meant something.
And neither of you had the guts for that.
So instead, you had this — these nights that started with too many drinks, too many looks across crowded rooms, too many almosts that broke down into this.
Fingers tangled in each other's clothes.
Mouths finding mouths like it was inevitable.
Her hands on your body like she had every right to touch you.
And you always let her.
You always let her.
Maybe because it was easier than hearing her say it didn't mean anything.
Maybe because, for a few minutes, it was possible to believe she wanted you the way you wanted her.
Maybe because you were stupid.
Or selfish.
Or both.
You told yourself it was fine.
You told yourself it didn't have to hurt if you didn't let it.
But it did.
It always did.
And now — lying here beside her, feeling the heat of her body and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest — you realized it wasn't the touching that ruined you.
It was the silence after.
The way she never said anything.
The way you never asked her to.
You stared harder at the ceiling, willing yourself not to look at her.
Not to reach for her.
It wouldn't change anything.
It never had.
You knew that.
You knew it too well.
You had the proof carved into the walls of your memory — every careless word, every too-fast goodbye.
You remembered the first time it happened, how you stayed tangled together for hours afterward, pretending sleep would make it easier.
It hadn't.
You remembered the second time, when she'd pulled her jeans back on without meeting your eyes and said, "This doesn't change anything, right?"
And you'd nodded — because what else could you do?
Because you were too scared she'd leave for good if you said no.
You remembered every time after that — the way it got easier for her to walk away, and harder for you to pretend it didn't hurt.
Sometimes she'd be in such a rush you barely got a goodbye at all.
Other times, like that night at her place, she'd just roll over, tug the blanket higher around herself, and drift off to sleep — leaving you there in the dark, heart hammering, waiting for some kind of sign.
None ever came.
And eventually, you'd learned how to let yourself out.
Quiet.
Invisible.
Unwanted.
It should have been enough to make you stop.
It should have been enough to make you hate her.
But it wasn't.
Because somehow, despite everything — despite the thousand little ways she showed you it didn't mean anything — you kept letting her touch you like it did.
And she kept touching you like it didn't.
Now, the air between you was too warm, too heavy.
The sheets clung to your skin, still tangled halfway down your legs.
You could feel the weight of her beside you — Cairo, lying there like it didn't mean anything. Like this was just another mistake you were both going to pretend didn't happen.
Your eyes locked onto the ceiling, tracing the cracks, the faded lines in the paint — anywhere but her.
Because if you looked at her, you'd break.
Her fingers brushed your thigh absently, like a habit she didn't even realize she had.
You squeezed your eyes shut.
It wasn't fair. It was never fair.
You kicked the covers off with a quiet, frustrated shove, desperate to breathe, desperate to pull yourself out of the gravity of her.
The room was too hot.
Your heart was too loud.
You couldn't pretend anymore.
And when you finally did risk a glance at her, Cairo was already looking at you — head propped lazily on her hand, gaze unreadable, like she wasn't the one unraveling you from the inside out.
You were so weak for her.
You hated it.
You hated her for it.
But mostly, you hated yourself.
You hated how easy it had been — again.
How fast you crumbled the second she touched you.
How even now, lying in the wreckage of it, you wanted her to reach for you again.
Wanted something she was never going to give.
Beside you, Cairo shifted lazily, the mattress dipping under her weight.
You heard her let out a breath — almost a laugh — low and careless, like none of this meant anything at all.
"Guess we're not great at keepin' promises," she muttered, voice rough from sleep and amusement.
Your heart clenched so tight it hurt.
She said it like it was funny.
Like you were both in on some harmless little secret.
Like it hadn't been you who had to pick up the pieces every single time she slipped away without a second thought.
You forced a smile — a tight, broken thing — and nodded once without trusting yourself to speak.
The room suddenly felt too small.
The air too heavy.
The ceiling too far away.
You focused on the cracks spidering along the plaster, willing yourself not to say anything.
Willing yourself not to feel anything.
Cairo didn't notice — or maybe she did and just didn't care.
She stretched again, unbothered, yawning into her hand like this was just another morning after nothing important.
Then she was sitting up.
Pulling the blanket off like it wasn't tangled around the night before.
Like it didn't still smell like both of you.
Like it wasn't the only thing holding the moment together.
You didn't say anything.
Didn't move.
You watched as she stood and padded across the floor, bare feet soft against the cold hardwood.
She didn't even hesitate — just reached down, gathering up her clothes from where they were scattered like discarded evidence.
Her shirt was inside out, and she didn't fix it.
Her jeans were wrinkled, and she didn't care.
You stayed in bed.
You didn't ask her to stay.
You didn't ask what this meant.
You knew better by now.
You watched the way she tied her hair up messily with the elastic around her wrist. The way she glanced in the mirror, wiped at the corner of her mouth, and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.
And then — as if it were nothing — she looked back at you with that same half-smile she wore when you passed each other in the hallway.
The one that meant nothing, said nothing, asked nothing.
"See you at school," she said.
Like it hadn't just been this.
Like you didn't still feel her on your skin.
You didn't answer.
You just stared up at the ceiling again, blinking hard.
You listened to the door click shut behind her.
And that was it.
That was always it.
No goodbye. No pause. No after.
Just Cairo, walking out like she hadn't been in your bed, in your hands, in your mouth.
Like she hadn't touched you the way people only touch you when they mean it.
When they feel it.
You lay there, motionless, in the heavy quiet she left behind.
Trying to catch your breath without making a sound.
Trying not to fall apart just yet.
You hated that this wasn't the first time.
You hated that you knew what came next — the silence, the space, the way she'd pretend none of this ever happened.
The way you were expected to pretend with her.
To sit across from her at lunch.
To text like everything was fine.
To hear her laugh and not remember what her breath sounded like when she was pressed against your neck.
And maybe what hurt the most wasn't that it kept happening.
It was that nothing ever changed.
You gave her everything. And she kept walking away.
Like you were just a mistake she was used to making.
It was cruel, in a way. The way she made it look so easy. How she could walk away, fix her shirt, toss her hair back into place like none of it ever mattered.
Like she hadn't just touched you like that.
Like she hadn't just ruined you all over again.
You sat there too long after she left. The air still warm with her in it. The bed still dented in the shape of her. You hadn't even touched the other side of the mattress. Hadn't even moved, not really—except for pulling the covers over your chest like it might hide the ache in your ribs.
You didn't understand how she did it.
How she kept coming back and pretending it didn't mean anything.
How you kept letting her.
Because you had meant it. Every time. Even the first.
Even when you told yourself you didn't.
And what made it worse—what made it sting—was knowing there was a time she used to pretend too. Not that it meant nothing, but that it meant less. Before she got good at hiding it. Before she stopped pretending at all.
You remembered it.
Last December.
You'd fallen asleep on her couch—half by accident, half by design. Cairo's head had ended up resting against your chest, one arm slung across your stomach. The room had been dark and warm, the silence broken only by the soft hum of her breathing. You didn't dare move. You were scared even one shift, one breath too deep, would wake her up and end it. You'd never felt so still in your life.
You weren't together. Not really. But that night you thought maybe—just maybe—she felt it too.
That maybe she wanted to feel it.
But the next morning, she'd barely looked at you. Just mumbled something about how "this was getting too messy," and said it was probably smart to take a step back. She'd said it like it was about you, like she was doing you a favor.
And the worst part?
You'd agreed. You'd nodded, even smiled, like it made sense.
Like it didn't already feel like something was cracking open inside you.
That was before all the promises. Before all the "let's not do this again" and "we're better off as friends."
Before she stopped bothering with excuses altogether.
Now it was just this—
Sex, silence, and a door closing behind her.
And somehow you were expected to act like you could still be friends.
Like she hadn't just laid her hands on your skin and then left you with nothing but the weight of it.
You were friends—or that's what you told people, what you told each other. You'd run out of ways to explain what it was between you, and even more reasons to keep trying.
But you weren't friends when she touched you like that.
Not when her mouth was on your skin and her hands were in your hair.
And now, as the heat faded from your body and the silence came crawling back in, you couldn't help but think:
How were you supposed to look at her tomorrow and pretend this didn't happen?
How could you both go back to acting like friends when you'd just shared a bed?
You wanted to ask her how.
How she could act like you were just someone she used to know.
How she could get dressed and say "see you at school" like she hadn't just pulled you apart with her mouth.
But you never did.
You just watched the door.
And let it all sit there inside you, heavy and sharp and endless.
School made it worse.
Because there she was—everywhere.
In the hallways, at your lunch table, slipping into the seat next to you in class like her skin hadn't been against yours just nights ago.
You thought it would get easier once you were around other people, once the world was louder. But it didn't drown anything out. If anything, it amplified it. Every laugh she gave someone else stung like it was meant for you. Every time she leaned too close to someone that wasn't you, your chest ached with something you couldn't name without sounding pathetic.
And the worst part?
She didn't even seem affected.
She smiled like she always had. Nudged your shoulder in group conversations. Said "hey" in passing, as if your mouth hadn't been on hers. As if she hadn't broken you open and walked away like it was nothing.
You started to wonder if that's all it ever was for her—nothing.
And maybe that thought would've hurt less if it hadn't happened so many times before.
Now, at school, it was like none of it had ever happened.
You saw her the next morning—before first period, outside the science wing, laughing at something someone else said. You weren't close enough to hear it, but you still felt it land in your chest like a bruise.
She looked at you once. Briefly. Like she was just checking to see if you were there.
And maybe you were reading into it—but that glance, that stupid, fleeting glance, felt like it meant something.
Like she remembered.
Like it had happened.
But then she looked away.
Tied her hair up. Smiled at someone else.
So maybe it didn't.
It was like that now—constant whiplash.
One second, you thought maybe she was hurting too.
The next, she was making jokes in class, passing you a pen, tapping her foot against yours under the desk like she'd forgotten everything but your presence.
And somehow that was worse.
Because even in the silence, even in the pretending, she was still there.
Not gone. Not distant. Not doing the decent thing and staying the hell away.
She was in your space.
Touching your elbow by accident. Brushing past you in the halls.
Acting like nothing had changed, and maybe it hadn't—for her.
But you were holding it all in your chest like a secret that wouldn't stop screaming.
So you smiled.
You walked the halls like your heart wasn't splitting open with every step.
You laughed when your friends made jokes, nodded through every conversation like your skin wasn't still buzzing with the memory of her mouth.
Because what else were you supposed to do?
You'd made the same mistake again and again and again. You'd laid yourself out for her, let her touch you like it meant something—knowing it didn't.
Not to her.
Not in the way it did to you.
So now you pretended.
Pretended you didn't still feel it in your stomach when you heard her voice behind you.
Pretended her hand brushing yours didn't feel like setting off a fire alarm in your bloodstream.
Pretended her laugh didn't echo in your chest like it used to, when she'd only ever laughed for you.
And Cairo made it easy—too easy.
She smiled at you the same way she did at everyone else.
Tossed you casual glances in class, shared her charger, borrowed your hoodie when she forgot hers and gave it back without a word.
Like you were still friends.
Like it was fine.
And maybe that was the worst part.
Because on the outside, everything looked fine.
You were back to being friends.
You sat beside her at lunch sometimes. You answered her texts. You nodded when she talked about stupid movies or new music or the things she wanted to do after graduation.
But none of it felt real anymore.
Not when you still remembered what her breath sounded like in the dark.
Not when her hands had just been on your skin and now acted like they'd never touched you.
You kept waiting for her to say something.
Anything.
To admit that maybe it wasn't just sex. That maybe she felt something.
But Cairo never did.
And you didn't ask.
Because if you did—if you really asked—you were scared of what the answer would be.
So you swallowed it all down.
Carried it through the hallways, through classes, through every moment where she was close enough to touch.
You forced yourself to smile when you passed her.
Pretended that your laughter didn't feel hollow in your throat.
You told yourself that it was fine—this was fine.
You could handle it.
It didn't matter if you were coming undone inside.
But every time you caught her eye—every time she looked at you like nothing had happened—
You felt that split right down the center of your chest.
The one you kept telling yourself wasn't there.
And maybe that was why—somewhere under the weight of all the pretending—you felt the pull of anything that might let you forget.
Anything to drown out the memory of her hands on your skin and the way she always left.
And maybe that was why—somewhere under the weight of all the pretending—you felt the pull of anything that might let you forget.
Anything to drown out the memory of her hands on your skin and the way she always left.
It was easier to think about something else—anything else—than the way she could still look at you in the hallway like you were nothing.
So when you heard about the party—just some kid's basement, music too loud and lights too low—it felt like a lifeline.
Parties didn't happen often here. Not in this little Massachusetts town where the most excitement you got was the annual pumpkin festival or Friday night football games.
You knew Cairo wouldn't be there—she was never the party type. She'd rather be home with a book, or tucked away in some secondhand theater watching operas you couldn't even pronounce.
You'd always tried to notice things about her like that.
Every quiet detail that made her who she was—how she liked her coffee black, how she hated the way people chewed with their mouths open, how she'd dog-ear pages when she was too tired to find a bookmark.
And she... she never seemed to notice anything about you at all.
Never paused to take in the way you went quiet when you were upset. Never looked close enough to see how hard you were holding yourself together.
It was like she could be everywhere with you—skin to skin, breath to breath—and still not see a single piece of you.
Maybe that was why the party felt like an escape.
A chance to be seen—just once, by anyone else.
A chance to stop being the girl who always let Cairo come and go like you were nothing.
Fridays always felt like a small mercy.
You and Cairo didn't share many classes, which meant you didn't have to see her face so much.
Didn't have to watch her slip back into the ease of her laughter with other people while you were still stuck on the memory of her mouth on your skin.
On Fridays, you could almost pretend you were okay.
Almost pretend you hadn't spent another week feeling like a ghost in your own life.
So you went home that afternoon telling yourself it didn't matter.
You went home telling yourself you'd find something—anything—to fill the hollow she left behind.
You didn't want to think too hard about what you were doing.
You showered quickly, put on a top that felt like a shield and a smile that didn't feel like yours.
Told yourself that if you looked good enough—carefree enough—it wouldn't hurt so much.
The sun was already setting when you left.
And you kept telling yourself this was what you needed:
A night away from Cairo.
A night away from your own head.
The party wasn't far—you could walk there in under twenty minutes if you cut through the old mill road. So that's what you did. The evening air was already starting to cool down, but you didn't mind. You wrapped your jacket around yourself and tried not to think about how every step felt like running away.
When you turned the last corner, you could see the glow of lights spilling from a house that was bigger than most in town—one of those places that looked like it had been built to be impressive, not lived in. You could hear music thrumming from the backyard, the low bass beat carrying down the street.
It looked almost like Cairo's house in some ways—expensive siding, the kind of driveway that could fit more cars than your whole family owned. It made your stomach twist to see it, but you swallowed that down and kept walking.
Inside, it was exactly what you expected: too many people crammed into too small a space, loud voices and laughter echoing off marble countertops and polished wood floors. Someone was already mixing drinks in the kitchen, red solo cups lined up in neat rows like they'd been waiting for this all week.
You didn't know most of the people here. Didn't care to. That was the point, wasn't it? No one knew you either—no one who would see the way your hands kept trembling when you reached for your drink.
You found a corner to lean against and took it all in.
The way the music pulsed through the walls.
The way everyone seemed so sure of themselves—like none of this mattered.
You wanted to feel that too.
You wanted to stop feeling like you were always carrying Cairo's ghost with you.
And for a little while, you did.
You let yourself drink more than you usually would—some cheap beer that tasted like nothing, and something sweeter, sticky on your tongue.
You let the music be loud enough to swallow your thoughts, let yourself lean into the blur of it all.
You laughed too hard at jokes you barely heard, your voice a little too bright, your eyes a little too glassy.
And you danced with Winnie for a while, letting her pull you into that easy rhythm, the two of you moving in circles that felt almost real.
It felt like the past couldn't catch up to you here—like the house was too crowded, too alive for any ghosts to linger.
For a while, it worked.
The drinks made it easy to forget—made it warm and soft and almost fun.
Like maybe, if you let yourself pretend hard enough, you could stop feeling like every breath you took had her name in it.
But then you saw her.
It was just a glimpse at first—her face half-lit by the kitchen lights, her hair pulled back in a way that made her look too casual for this place.
She was holding a drink, talking to someone you didn't know.
And you almost didn't believe it.
You blinked, your vision blurring at the edges, and told yourself it was the alcohol, the noise, your mind trying to fill in the spaces she always left behind.
But it wasn't.
She was really there.
You could feel it in the way your stomach dropped, in the way the music seemed to fade out around you.
Because of course she would be here—because you could never have anything for yourself that didn't turn back into her, that didn't somehow lead back to Cairo.
For a second, you thought maybe she hadn't noticed you.
Maybe you could slip away, find another corner of the party where she couldn't follow.
But then her eyes found yours across the room.
It was just a moment—one heartbeat, maybe two—before she looked away.
But in that moment, you saw it: the flicker of surprise, the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her mouth parted like she had something to say.
And then it was gone.
She turned back to her conversation, and you were left with the echo of it in your chest.
That familiar, hollow twist—like the world was folding in on itself and the only thing left was her.
Like you'd spent all night trying to forget her, only to end up right back at the start.
It hit you in a way you didn't expect.
Not loud, not sharp.
Just this slow, sinking thing that crept in under your skin — like gravity shifting sideways, like the floor tilting just enough to throw everything off balance.
Because she was still across the room.
Still talking.
Still smiling.
And that was what did it, really.
Not the shock of seeing her. Not even the way she'd looked away like it didn't matter.
But how easy she made it seem.
Like she hadn't once curled up beside you in the dark.
Like she hadn't once kissed you like she meant it, like she knew you.
Like none of it — none of you — had left a mark at all.
She laughed at something someone said, tossing her head back the way you used to love watching.
You remembered that laugh.
You remembered the sound of it against your neck, your shoulder, your throat.
And now it was out here, scattered across the room for anyone to take.
It gutted you.
Because she didn't look broken.
She didn't look haunted.
She didn't even look uncomfortable.
She looked like she belonged here.
Like this night was just another night.
Like you were the only one pretending it meant nothing.
You didn't even realize you'd stopped breathing until the room blurred again, your chest so tight it almost hurt.
And you couldn't stop looking at her — not because you wanted to, but because something in you needed to understand.
Needed to know how she did it.
How she could erase you so cleanly.
And God, you hated it — the way your hands started shaking again, the way your throat burned.
Not from the drinks.
From her.
From the way she made you feel like a ghost in your own story.
You were supposed to be forgetting.
You were supposed to be moving on.
But instead, you were standing in some stranger's house, surrounded by people who didn't know what you used to be, and watching her pretend like she'd never touched you at all.
Like she'd never looked at you the way she was now looking at them.
And maybe you should've walked away.
Maybe you should've turned around and left.
But your feet didn't move.
Because some small, wrecked part of you still hoped she'd look back.
Still hoped she'd remember.
Not the version of you that was standing there now — with your drink in hand and your chest caving in — but the one she used to reach for when no one was looking.
The one she kissed like a secret.
The one she held like a habit she couldn't quit.
But Cairo didn't look back.
She didn't glance over her shoulder.
She didn't shift or stiffen or blink like she remembered anything at all.
She just kept talking, kept smiling. Like you were nobody. Like you'd always been nobody.
And you tried—God, you tried—to convince yourself that it didn't mean anything.
That maybe she was just good at hiding things.
That maybe this was hard for her too.
But the truth was right in front of you.
She didn't look wrecked.
She didn't look like someone who'd shared a bed with you five nights ago.
Or kissed you in your kitchen like she couldn't help herself.
Or left before morning like none of it meant anything.
She looked like someone who'd never known you.
And that was what undid you.
Because you couldn't understand how she could wear her detachment like perfume — easy, invisible, soft.
While you were here swallowing it all down, trying not to look like someone who was breaking apart in real time.
You wanted to scream.
You wanted to shake her, ask her how she could stand there and treat you like any other girl at the party.
How she could act like nothing ever happened — like you weren't still carrying pieces of her inside you that didn't even belong to you anymore.
You didn't.
You just stood there, watching her laugh with someone else.
Feeling like the only person in the room still bleeding from something no one else could see.
But it started building — quietly, then all at once.
Like your thoughts had teeth.
Like they were gnawing straight through you.
You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making everything feel louder, or if this had always been inside you, waiting for a moment like this to finally come undone.
Because how could she stand there and let it all go so easily?
How could you be the one still clinging to every look, every half-spoken word, still trying to stitch some meaning into it — while she didn't even flinch?
You were holding on too tightly.
To things she dropped the second they got too heavy.
To touches that meant nothing to her the morning after.
To a connection that felt real only because you needed it to be.
You kept telling yourself you were just going to get some air.
That it wasn't Cairo — it wasn't the way her laughter curled in your gut or the way she leaned toward someone else like her body had never even touched yours.
But you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.
Not tonight.
Not when it all finally cracked open inside your chest.
So you walked — fast, almost stumbling — out through the crowded living room, past the half-drunk boy who tried to hand you something, past Winnie's voice calling after you.
You didn't stop. You couldn't.
The door slammed behind you like punctuation.
And the cold slapped you hard across the face the second you stepped out.
And for a second — just a second — everything went still.
The muffled bass of the party thudded through the walls.
The night air bit into your skin, sharp and sobering.
But it was better than standing in there pretending you didn't feel like you were drowning.
And maybe that's why, just before the door clicked shut behind you, Cairo turned.
Like she'd only just realized you were gone.
Like your sudden absence broke the rhythm of her pretending.
But you didn't wait to see if she'd follow.
You just kept walking.
Because something in you was finally too tired —
Too raw —
To keep bleeding quietly.
You stepped off the porch like your legs barely belonged to you.
The night felt colder now — like it had teeth, like even the air wanted to bite down.
You found yourself on the front steps, sitting on the edge of them like you weren't sure whether you were about to leave or collapse right there.
The cement was rough beneath your hands, still holding some of the day's warmth but not enough to matter.
The street stretched quiet in front of you, interrupted only by the occasional blur of headlights passing by, slicing gold through the dark.
Somewhere across the yard, a guy was bent over in the bushes, retching like his body had given up on him too.
Further down the drive, a small group of older boys stood in a half-circle by the curb, smoking cigarettes like they had nowhere better to be. Their laughter was low and tired, curling into the cold.
But besides that, the world was quiet.
Or at least quieter than inside.
Here, things didn't spin as fast.
You exhaled slowly and felt the breath leave you like something you hadn't meant to let go.
It all felt so heavy.
Like your ribs were too tight around your lungs.
Like the ache in your chest wasn't just about her — but about everything she'd taken from you without even knowing it.
Or maybe she did know.
Maybe that was the worst part.
The concrete beneath you.
The dark sky above you.
It all made you feel small in a way that was both calming and unbearable.
Like you could disappear out here and no one would notice.
Like maybe that would be a relief.
You pressed your palms to your knees, stared out at the road, and tried not to think about the way her eyes had not searched for you.
About how easy it was for her to stay inside.
To keep laughing.
To keep pretending none of it mattered.
But you couldn't do that.
You never could.
Not with her.
You stayed there on the steps, elbows balanced on your knees, your fingers picking absently at the skin around your nails. You weren't sure how long you'd been sitting there. The chill had started to settle in your arms, but you didn't move. Didn't think. You just were. Hollow and still and almost quiet inside.
Until the door opened behind you.
It was soft — not loud enough to startle you, just a hush of movement and muffled bass leaking out for half a second before it clicked shut again. You didn't look. Probably just someone stepping out for a smoke, maybe heading home. You didn't care. Not anymore.
But then there were footsteps.
Light ones.
Measured.
You didn't turn around, not at first. Just stared out at the road, your eyes glazed and dry.
And then, in your peripheral, a shape.
Familiar somehow.
Slow-moving.
You blinked and your chest went tight.
Because for a second, you didn't think it was her.
Didn't want to believe it was her.
Your brain reached for excuses — someone with the same hair, maybe, the same walk, the same frame…
But no.
You knew.
Even out here, even half-lit by streetlights and a sliver of moon.
It was Cairo.
She stepped closer, and you heard the gravel shift under her boots.
Heard her hesitate.
And still, you didn't move.
Because after everything — all the pretending, all the disappearing — she had followed you.
And somehow, that didn't feel like enough.
Not anymore.
She stood behind you, not too close, not too far.
The kind of distance that said I'm here, but also I don't know what I'm doing.
You didn't turn.
Didn't need to.
You could feel her.
Cairo had always been bad at standing still. She shifted her weight once, then again. The gravel crunched softly under her shoes — not the kind of party heels most girls wore, but boots, like always.
You imagined her glancing down at the steps and hesitating.
She probably didn't want to sit.
The skirt she was wearing — the pale one she only wore when everything else was in the wash — was probably still damp at the hem.
She'd waited too long to do laundry, as usual.
Didn't think things through unless she had to.
And yet she'd shown up tonight.
You could feel her watching the side of your face. Probably waiting for you to make it easy.
She was never good at starting things with you.
Not real things.
Maybe she was hoping you'd look over your shoulder and say something stupid and casual — "didn't expect to see you" or "some party, huh?"
Something she could step into.
But you didn't.
Because you knew how it would go if you did.
You knew how easily your mouth would forget everything your heart remembered.
You could smell her before you heard her breathe.
That same mix of coconut and vanilla clinging to her skin — subtle, warm, the kind that made you ache.
And underneath it: smoke.
Always the smoke.
She never lit her own cigarettes, just borrowed other people's and forgot to return them.
And still, you didn't look.
Because if you did, it'd all slip again.
The hurt, the distance, the last scraps of dignity you were trying so hard to hold onto.
You stared at the road instead.
And pretended you couldn't feel her ruining you all over again, just by being there.
You hoped she'd give up eventually.
That she'd take the hint — realize you didn't want this. Not right now.
Not like this.
You hoped she'd sigh or roll her eyes or check her phone and walk away, back inside where it was loud and warm and easier to pretend.
But she didn't.
She just stood there.
Fidgeting, like she was working through some equation in her head. Like if she got the words in the right order, maybe you'd stop freezing her out.
Her fingers picked at the edge of her sleeve, slow and nervous — Cairo's version of pacing.
And then finally, quietly, like it was something she'd been holding onto for too long, she spoke.
"It's pretty cold out here... shouldn't you head inside?"
Her accent wrapped around the words soft and hesitant, and she tilted her head like maybe that would make her seem more sincere.
Like maybe if she sounded gentle enough, you wouldn't notice how fake it felt.
You almost laughed.
Almost scoffed.
Because really?
Now she cared if you were cold?
She never cared about that.
She never cared if your fingers went numb walking home.
She never cared if you were shivering beside her when she opened the window in her room just because she liked the sound of rain.
She never cared about what you felt unless it had something to do with her.
But you swallowed it down.
That sharp little spike of bitterness that wanted to slip out and cut her.
"No thanks," you said instead, your voice low, a little thick from the cold.
Your nose was starting to sting — just enough to make it hard to talk like you weren't feeling anything at all.
You sniffled once, sharp and quick.
"But you do that."
You didn't say it cruelly.
Didn't snap.
You just let it sit there — soft but pointed, like something closing a door without slamming it.
She didn't say anything back.
And you still didn't look.
Because if you did, you weren't sure what you'd see.
And you weren't ready to see it.
Not yet.
The silence that followed stretched thin and awkward, the kind that made your skin itch.
Cairo didn't say anything.
Didn't move at first.
She just stood there like she was trying to solve a puzzle with no right answer — like she hadn't expected this version of you.
One that didn't fold the second she opened her mouth.
One that didn't give her softness just because she asked for it.
She was used to being chased.
To getting the last word.
To people falling all over themselves to hear what she had to say — but you didn't look at her.
You didn't give her that.
And it must've thrown her off.
Because she shifted her weight, arms folding over her chest.
Then unfolded them again.
Then looked down at her shoes, like maybe she was thinking of leaving — turning around, heading back inside, forgetting this ever happened.
And for a second, you thought she would.
You wanted her to.
Sort of.
But she didn't.
She just hovered there, her hesitation loud in the air between you.
You didn't notice her watching you — not at first.
But something in the way the silence held started to feel different.
Not cold anymore. Not distant.
Like it wasn't just indecision that kept her standing there.
And even though your eyes were still on the street, some part of you knew.
Knew she was looking at you — not with the sharp edge she usually had, but with something else.
Softer. Quieter.
Something almost like... admiration.
You didn't turn to check.
You didn't want to.
And then, finally, her voice again — quieter this time.
Careful. Almost gentle.
"You look very pretty tonight."
Like she meant it.
Like it was a secret.
Like saying it any louder would break something between you.
And maybe that should've meant something.
Maybe a part of you — a softer, dumber part — wanted it to.
But instead, it just made your throat tighten.
Because of course she was doing this.
Of course she waited until you were at your worst — outside, alone, unraveling — to say something sweet.
She always did this. Always showed up just late enough to make it hurt more.
Weeks of silence.
Months, even.
Ignoring you like you hadn't shared her bed, her secrets, her goddamn heart.
And then she'd show up again, all slow blinks and honeyed words.
"You know I can't sleep right without you."
"I missed the sound of your voice."
"I kept your hoodie, is that weird?"
Like that was enough.
Like those sentences could hold together the wreckage she always left you in.
And every time, you let her.
Every single time, you let her tilt her head and smile and pull you right back into her orbit.
You hated it.
You hated yourself for it.
And you were so, so tired.
Maybe it was the alcohol — sharp behind your teeth and fogging your head — or maybe it was just the weight of too many endings pretending to be beginnings.
Either way, something snapped.
You shot up from the steps, sudden and stiff, brushing your palms on your thighs like that could wipe off the ache.
"I have to go," you said quickly, voice tight.
You didn't wait for her to ask where.
Didn't wait to see if her face fell or stayed smug or even surprised.
"I have to use the bathroom," you added under your breath, like it explained anything.
Like you weren't already turning away, walking fast, fast, fast toward the edge of whatever this had become — toward the only escape you had left.
Away from her.
Before she made you stay.
Before she made you want to.
You didn't mean to brush so close.
But as you stepped past her—barely a centimeter between your shoulder and hers—it was enough.
Enough for her to react like you'd tugged something out of her.
Like leaving was something she physically couldn't let you do.
"Y/n, wait—"
Her voice cracked, louder than she meant it to be, tangled with something too desperate, too raw.
You saw her foot shift forward, heard the scrape of her heel against concrete.
And then her hand—warm, trembling—closed around your wrist.
Her fingers were soft, familiar, like they still remembered how to hold you.
Like they hadn't forgotten.
You refused to look at her.
Even when her body tilted toward yours, even when her other hand lifted slightly—reaching for something in the space between you two.
Her mouth opened.
"I—"
"No."
Your voice was low, almost a whisper.
But it stopped her.
You pulled your arm out of her grip, sharp and quick like it burned.
"Cairo, please stop doing this."
It hung there between you—quiet but undeniable.
A plea, a boundary, a crack in the spine of every story you'd lived with her.
Because you couldn't do it again.
Couldn't let her start something she'd never finish.
Not when you already knew the ending.
Not when you'd lived it too many times.
Cairo had the stomach to look confused.
Like you hadn't just laid yourself bare in front of her. Like she didn't know exactly what she was doing.
"Doing what?" she asked, voice light, cautious—almost innocent.
But her eyes flickered.
You caught it.
That flicker of guilt or recognition or whatever it was—quick, like she didn't mean to let it show.
You almost laughed.
Because she knew what you meant.
She always knew.
You meant the way she only ever looked at you like that when no one else was around.
The way her voice softened, the way her compliments curled around you like smoke, sweet and slow—but only when it was just the two of you.
You meant how you were only enough when no one was watching.
How she never touched you in public.
How she never said your name like it meant something unless it was in the dark, when her body was pressed against yours and her lips were on your shoulder and she didn't have to pretend.
You meant this.
Her chasing you down just to give you almost.
To say something tender and break you open, and then leave you bleeding while she walked away clean.
Like always.
You didn't say any of that out loud.
But your eyes did.
Your silence did.
And you watched her shrink beneath it.
But your eyes did.
Your silence did.
And you watched her shrink beneath it.
You didn't mean to say anything.
You really didn't.
But the words started spilling out before you could stop them—low and uneven, like your voice didn't know what tone to take.
"You know exactly what I mean."
She blinked, and something flickered again in her face—like she wanted to deny it, like she wanted to play dumb. But you didn't let her.
"You're fine being around me when no one's watching. When it's just us. You can say all the pretty things then, right? You can touch me, kiss me, sleep in my bed, tell me you missed me—like it's nothing. But the second we're around other people, it's like I don't exist. Like you don't know me. And now you're out here acting like—like I'm the one who's being cold?"
Your voice cracked at that.
Your breath caught in your throat, and your hands clenched at your sides like maybe that would hold everything else in.
She didn't say anything.
Of course she didn't.
So you kept going, voice rising just enough to make it worse.
"I can't keep doing this with you, Cairo. I can't. I can't go back to being just your friend, or your maybe, or your secret. I can't sit next to you at some party and pretend like we didn't share a bed, like I don't still feel you on me every time I try to sleep."
You didn't mean to let your eyes sting.
Didn't mean for your throat to tighten like that.
But it was too much.
And somehow, what made it worse was how stupid it felt to even have to say this.
Like this wasn't obvious. Like she hadn't been doing it over and over again.
Your voice wavered, but you didn't stop.
"You keep doing this to me. You disappear, and then you come back and say one thing—just one fucking thing—and I fall for it. Every time. You say I look pretty, or that you miss me, or that you didn't mean to stay away, and I believe you. And then what? You leave again. Like none of it ever mattered."
You laughed, dry and bitter and tired.
"I'm done, I can't do it again. I can't."
And then it was quiet.
Not because there was nothing left to say, but because saying it out loud already felt like too much.
Like you'd peeled something raw open between you, and it was all just sitting there now—too exposed, too ugly, too real.
You were trembling now, not from the cold but from everything she made feel like too much. Your hands, your chest, your thoughts—none of it felt yours anymore. And still, she hadn't said anything.
So you gave her one last look. Not kind. Not cruel. Just done.
"And I can't pretend we're strangers," you said, quieter now but somehow heavier than before. "Even though you seem perfectly fucking fine with it."
And with that, you turned.
You started walking toward the door, not fast, not dramatic—just steady. The porch light buzzed softly above you, and the house hummed with music and voices muffled by the walls. The party you'd almost forgotten was still happening.
You got close to the door, close enough that the tip of your fingers grazed the handle, metal cold under your skin.
And behind you, you could hear Cairo trying to find words—her breath hitching just enough to give her away. You could picture it without turning: her brow furrowed like she was concentrating too hard, her mouth opening like it always did when she was about to say something that never came.
"Y/n—"
Then nothing.
Then again. "Wait—"
Still nothing.
And just when your fingers curled around the doorknob—
"I love you."
You froze.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't confident.
She said it like it was her last card, like she wasn't sure it was even worth playing. Like if she didn't say it now, she never would.
And it hit you in a way nothing else had.
Like the one thing you'd wanted to hear, and the last thing you could stand to.
You didn't turn around yet.
You just stood there.
Fingers still on the door.
Heart in your throat.
It echoed in your head—I love you.
Too soft to be real. Too cruel to be fair.
And then, slowly, you turned.
Your eyebrows pulled together before you even realized they had, confusion etched deep into your face. You stared at her like she'd just said something in a language you didn't speak. Or like she'd ripped open a wound you didn't know was still bleeding.
"What?" You breathed it out, sharp, almost spat it.
Because people don't do this.
They don't ignore you for weeks. They don't flirt with other people, disappear into crowds, pretend not to know you in rooms filled with mutual friends—and then say that.
People don't destroy you and then tell you they love you.
Not unless they mean to ruin you.
But Cairo just stood there.
And it was like watching someone realize they'd said the one thing they weren't supposed to. Her shoulders dropped just slightly, her hands fidgeting at her sides. She looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin.
Her eyes flicked to yours, then down, then up again—scared.
Not of you, but of what you might say next.
She looked nervous.
She looked nervous.
And maybe it was the expression on your face—the anger she wasn't used to seeing. Because you'd never looked at her like this before. Never let her see the damage. The frustration. The disbelief. You'd always swallowed it down, tried to stay soft even when she made you feel cold.
But not now.
Now you were just angry.
Because your chest fluttered at her words—still.
Because of course she'd said the one thing you'd always wanted to hear, just when you were ready to walk away.
Because it worked. It always worked.
And that was exactly why you hated it.
Because it still meant something.
And that felt like the worst part.
There was a long pause. You didn't fill it.
You just stood there, still halfway turned toward the door, waiting to see if she'd even try to explain.
For a second, you were sure she wouldn't.
But then Cairo took a step forward, slow, like the ground might split if she moved too fast.
"I didn't..." she started, then stopped. Her jaw tightened as she looked past you, toward the road. Like maybe the words would come easier if she didn't have to see your face. "I didn't think you'd—God, I didn't think this would get so..."
She shook her head. Not at you — at herself.
Then her hand came up to her forehead, brushing her bangs back like that might help her think clearer.
"I didn't mean to—" she tried again, voice soft, almost choked. "It's not like I wanted to lose you. I just... I didn't know what to do with you."
She laughed—barely. A quiet, breathy, humorless thing.
Her shoulders hunched in a little, like she hated even hearing herself say it.
"It was easier to pretend we were just messing around. Easier than... admitting it was more than that."
You stared at her, but she still didn't meet your eyes.
She was fidgeting again—wringing her hands, rubbing the back of her neck, shifting her weight like standing still made her restless.
"I mean, I knew, okay?" she finally said, a little louder, a little more desperate now. "I knew what I was doing when I pulled away. When I acted like it didn't matter. It's just—if I let it matter, I had to believe it could actually work. And I didn't want to believe that."
That made you flinch. Just a little.
Cairo noticed.
She panicked at the look on your face—whatever it was.
"I didn't mean it like that," she rushed. "I mean—I did, but not because of you. I didn't trust me. I mess things up. That's what I do. I get too close and I ruin it, or it gets taken away. So I told myself it was better to just..."
Her voice trailed off.
She was talking with her hands now, gesturing vaguely like the words might somehow appear if she moved enough.
And it was weird — seeing her like that.
Cairo, who was usually so composed, so cold, so smart-mouthed and detached — now standing in front of you like someone scrambling for a lifeline.
"I didn't know how to have you and not lose you," she said finally. Quieter this time. "So I kept letting you go first."
You didn't say anything.
You couldn't.
Because part of you wanted to scream.
And part of you wanted to believe her.
She looked up finally.
Her eyes were glassy, but she blinked hard like she refused to cry in front of you. Her bottom lip tucked slightly between her teeth, and she took a half-step closer—like maybe if she was just a little nearer, you'd forgive her faster.
And still, she looked embarrassed to be saying all this.
Ashamed of how late it came.
Ashamed that it had to come like this.
Her voice dipped again, uneven now. "I know I made it look like it didn't matter. I know that. And I'm not saying that's fair. I just... I didn't know what else to do."
You turned slightly, only just—barely angling your body toward her. And maybe it gave her hope.
Because her eyes flicked up.
And then she kept going.
"I was scared. Not of you—just... of what it meant. Of how I felt. And I guess that sounds stupid now, but I didn't know it was gonna be you. I didn't think you'd—" she cut herself off, shaking her head again, teeth digging into her bottom lip.
Then her eyes flicked to yours for a second—like she was checking to see if you were listening.
You were.
Too much.
"But I liked you," she said suddenly, almost tripping over it. "I like you. Not just like... in that way. I liked you before I even realized what it was turning into."
You blinked, startled by how honest it sounded.
Cairo noticed your expression change—just slightly. Your eyebrows creased in a way she recognized, and it made her shift again, lean in a little.
"I liked the way you look at people when you think they're not watching," she said, still quiet, but now her voice trembled. "I liked that you never pretended to be something you weren't, even when everyone else was busy trying. You just... you were always there. Even when I didn't deserve it."
You hated that your heart thudded at that.
Because of course she would say something like that now.
Now that you were already halfway gone.
"And I know I'm not saying this right," she muttered quickly, hand curling into a loose fist at her side. "I always mess it up when it matters. But I meant it—what I said earlier. I do love you. I just didn't know how to show it. Not in a way that wouldn't fuck it all up."
Her voice cracked at the end of that. And she looked away fast, like if she didn't see your face, it wouldn't hurt so bad when you walked away.
She didn't realize you were still standing there.
Still facing her.
Still listening.
Even if your heart didn't know what to do with any of it.
You pursed your lips, slowly.
Not in frustration—just trying to process it all.
Her voice still echoed in your chest, repeating the things you'd waited too long to hear.
You didn't even know where to begin.
Because part of you wanted to believe her.
Wanted to let the warmth of her words settle into your ribs and undo the months of damage she'd done.
But the other part—
The part that had sat alone on the stairs, aching and cold—
It was still angry.
Still hurting.
And so, after a beat, you nodded once.
"Okay."
Cairo's expression faltered immediately.
Like the floor shifted beneath her feet.
"Okay?" she echoed, almost confused.
Her brows drew together slowly.
She blinked. "That's all you have to say?"
You nodded again. "Is there something else you wanted me to say?"
The silence that followed was thick and sharp, like the air between you had teeth.
Cairo's mouth parted, then shut. Her head tilted slightly—like she couldn't decide whether she was more shocked or offended.
She hadn't expected that.
Not from you.
Not after all that.
Because for once, you were the one pulling back.
And she wasn't used to that.
Not from you.
You looked at her for a moment longer—
At her still furrowed brows, the soft rise and fall of her chest, her fingers twitching like they didn't know what to do if they weren't touching you.
It would've been easier if she hadn't meant any of it.
If she'd just said all that to win. To manipulate.
But she hadn't.
You knew she hadn't.
And maybe that's why it hurt more.
You didn't even know what you were supposed to feel. Relief? Vindication? Anger?
It felt like all of it. All at once.
Because yeah, maybe you had needed to hear it.
Maybe a part of you had been begging for this moment for weeks.
But not like this.
Not after everything she put you through.
Not after all the times she made you feel stupid for hoping.
You ran a hand down your face, exhaling hard through your nose.
Your chest ached. Your throat stung. You hated how it all still mattered.
And maybe that's what finally pushed the words out of your mouth.
"You don't get to just say that and make it better, Cairo," you said, barely looking at her. "You don't get to say 'I love you' like it erases the rest."
She blinked—like she hadn't expected you to sound so calm.
You swallowed. "You keep doing this thing where you disappear. You come close just long enough to fuck with my head and then act like it never happened."
She flinched—just barely—but you saw it.
"And I always let you," you added, voice cracking. "Every time."
There was a long, quiet breath as Cairo stared at the ground, lips slightly parted like she wanted to interrupt but couldn't find where. You waited. You gave her the silence. And when she didn't take it, you filled it yourself.
"I can't keep doing this with you. I can't keep... feeling like a secret. Like I'm only good enough when no one else is around."
The words felt heavier now that they were out. More real.
You blinked a few times, fast, trying to push the burn out of your eyes.
You didn't mean for that one to come out so bitter. But it did.
And she felt it.
It landed like a bruise across her face — barely visible, but you knew.
Your chest tightened. Your hand drifted toward the doorknob again, fingers curling around cold metal.
"And if you're not ready to be honest about this—about us—" you paused, voice dropping, "then come back when you are."
You didn't look at her after that.
You didn't even give yourself the time to second-guess it.
You were just about to turn the handle—just about to walk away for real—
When you heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps behind you.
And before your mind could even register what was happening—
Her hands were on your cheeks.
Warm. Familiar. A little shaky.
You blinked in surprise as she pulled you down slightly—eyes darting over your face like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to do this—and then she kissed you.
Hard.
Not like the last time. Not like any of the times before.
There was no hesitation in it. No pretense. No half-truths.
Just Cairo, pressed against you like she was trying to make up for every single second she'd wasted not being here.
Her lips tasted like stale sugar, cheap wine, and cigarette smoke, and somehow that combination made your chest ache harder than anything else.
Her fingers twitched against your jaw, like she didn't know how to stop holding you.
And her mouth—
God, her mouth was saying everything she couldn't get out.
Sorry.
I mean it.
Don't leave.
Her thumbs trembled slightly where they pressed against your jaw.
Her mouth moved against yours like she thought she might never get to do it again.
And your heart—
It cracked open.
Because even if everything still hurt...
Even if none of this fixed what had already broken—
She was trying.
She was finally trying.
When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours, frantic and wet around the edges.
And she didn't say anything.
She didn't have to.
You rested your forehead against hers for a moment, just breathing.
Feeling the ache settle into something a little quieter.
Maybe it wasn't a fix.
Maybe it wasn't clean or easy.
But it was honest.
And for once, that felt like enough to start with.
Genius (1) - Restless
Cairo Sweet x Female Reader (G!P)
Story summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life.
Chapter summary: A vision of a lone, wild rose, the memories of your childhoods, of you clinging to her, terrified of the forest, it all came back when you saw her again. For six years you longed to see her again, not knowing how this reunion would affect both of you.
Genius Masterlist / Part 2
Word Count: 11.4k
-There is never a break, you only come alive at the thrill of the chase-
You were never good at staying still.
Never good at holding onto anything; be it things, places, or people.
We are made of bits and pieces of what we touched in our lives, at least that was what you came to believe. Every place, every person, every object, you took from them and gave parts of yourself in return, whether they were insignificant fragments or chunks, it hardly mattered.
Even the empty road you were on in the late hours of the night left its own fragments within you as the wind continued mercilessly blowing your open biker jacket behind you. There really was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, sometimes lonely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, right after midnight.
At least you didn’t have to go on foot.
That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided.
You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Royal Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on. You couldn’t explain it, this rush to experience as many things as quickly as possible. Perhaps you just didn’t want to settle down, or latch onto one thing and decide how your life would go right away.
Future scared you a lot less when you were on the move, only worrying about short-term issues and otherwise making spontaneous decisions.
Coming back to this small village in Tennessee, however, wasn’t one of those spontaneous decisions. You knew, right from the moment you began moving from one place to another, that this would be where you’d finish high school.
You wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.
The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with Cairo. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.
As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it.
The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.
~X~
The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.
Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.
The light above her flickered and the shadows danced around her just for a moment. Water dripped from the faucet rhythmically, and she couldn’t care less about the decay of this empty prison she was in.
Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.
~X~
You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.
It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents.
They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until she started focusing more on school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your biker jacket as makeshift cover.
The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.
As you got comfortable on the sofa you glanced at the books and noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children?
You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,
~X~
Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer, you even hummed a bit to yourself, nowhere near loud enough for someone to hear, of course, but you were humming a random tune that was stuck in your head.
“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document and brought the papers to her.
“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times. You caught her eying your helmet, not approving of it, but you couldn’t care less.
The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”
You nodded, smiling gratefully as you put the documents you were given into your bag. And then it hit you, it was done, there was no changing your mind now. You’d spend the school year here and for the first time you caught yourself thinking maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe coming back here wouldn’t be as easy as you initially thought.
Maybe you would have been better off still on the road, meeting new people instead of revisiting the place you thought you left behind.
“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor reminded you as you turned to leave her office. Another reminder of how actively your parents participated in the local community; six years after they left and people still fondly remembered them. For the first time since you began living on your own you had to measure to the image people had of your parents, and it frightened you.
You chuckled softly, masking the nervousness you were suddenly feeling. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you were in the hall and you unlocked it, opening the group chat you had with your parents. There were way too many messages in that chat, but considering they were letting you explore and make your own mistakes instead of acting like helicopter parents, you figured you could live with an active family group chat.
‘Good luck today!’ the message, sent by your mom, read, and you smiled, replying with a thumbs up emoji and putting the phone away, but you’d be lying if you said her message didn’t relax you.
You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.
Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your, helmet, jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.
“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.
“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.
You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?” she offered.
“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.
“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.
“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.
~X~
The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to them though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.
“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.
“Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from the girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.
It couldn’t be… Right?
Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.
Even if it was, well, you had the entire school year to come across her again.
Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.
“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.
You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.
You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.
“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.
The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”
You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”
You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.
“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”
You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, Boris, was reading out loud.
The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!” he quickly defended himself and you certainly hoped that was the case. The alternative was rather disturbing.
You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.
~X~
Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes.
You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.
“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.
Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four?
Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.
She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her long dark hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions.
As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with, Winnie, were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.
“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.”
She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up over a cup of coffee or something.
~X~
It was you.
After all these years, you were in front of her again.
Once upon a time you were precious to Cairo, her best friend, someone she played with, someone she read with, someone she read to, someone she could trust. She didn’t exactly meet you, you’ve been a part of her life way before she understood anything about the world around her. You came into her life as the daughter of her parents’ friends slash colleagues. A way for her parents to show their dominance, she supposed.
Your parents weren’t as wealthy, as successful, or influential as her parents, and looking at it now, there may have been some envy and or superiority complex from one pair of parents to another.
It didn’t influence the two of you, you were just kids who happened to spend time together and have fun. She was a lonely child, as not a lot of kids wanted to even get close to Lovell Hill, but seeing as your parents kept bringing you along you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter at first.
Everything was much simpler before the two of you started going to school…
~X~
Clumsy.
That was the word she would have used to describe you back then.
“I don’t like it here, Cai,” you were smaller than her back then and you were frightened of the forest surrounding her house, even if you were close to the road. Insects freaked you out, you jumped at the smallest sounds, you were so easy to scare, but Cairo really wanted to show you something nice in the forest, to show you it wasn’t all bad.
She’s been holding your hand, pulling you along through the dark forest, unlike you she wasn’t afraid or freaked out by the forest. It was a part of her world, unapproachable, haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. Of course, back then she just took it for granted, it was around her house so of course she didn’t mind it.
“Cai, come on, let’s go back,” you tried again, but you still went along with her whims. Whining and complaining, but always following her, always coming back.
“C’mon, it’s close!” she was excited to take you to the bush of wild roses she came across a few days ago.
You groaned, but didn’t put up a fight and then, just as she was supposed to see the bush, she dropped your hand, and you stumbled right into her. But she didn’t get annoyed, she was too confused, too distraught by the sight of an old tree that fell over the bush.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, yet she still didn’t respond. “Cai? Cairo?” you probably followed her line of sight, as you let out a small ‘oh’ a few seconds later.
She wasn’t that smart back then, she didn’t fully understand what she was feeling, but looking back at that moment now she figured that was the first time she began understanding the nature of her home.
A beautiful flower growing despite harsh environmental conditions, only to be crushed by an old decaying good for nothing tree way past its prime. The forest around her house, the whole village, functioned the same way. And though she longed to be free, to spread her wings, to bloom outside of the restraints placed upon her by her surrounding, she couldn’t. She too, much like the rose bush she failed to show you, didn’t know how to escape the earth she was stuck in.
‘I’ll do it before I start high school,’ she thought, but didn’t know where to start, and she didn’t have anyone to do it with.
‘I’ll do it during high school,’ she thought, but she never had the courage to even get on a bus to the nearby town.
‘I’ll do it after I graduate,’ was her newest mantra, but deep down she feared what was to come.
She’s been told repeatedly that she was exceptional.
It was easy to be exceptional when everyone around her seemed content with their lives here. Never striving to stand out. Never putting in more effort than necessary. It was easy to be exceptional when talent alone gave her an edge over those who failed to actually try.
But, she didn’t understand that as a six years old girl standing in the middle of the forest with you by her side. But she did feel like something was breaking her heart.
“Hey,” you took her hand ad for once you were pulling her away from the crushed rose bush, as if understanding somehow that she didn’t want to stay there, even if she didn’t move on her own.
Your hand was warm, though not nearly as warm as the tears falling down her cheeks, and she often wondered what you felt at that moment? What did you see when you looked from the roses on the ground to her? Did it change you in any way? Or was it just another day or you? Something you forgot within days, or even hours.
She never really asked you, but the sight stayed burnt in her mind and she still hated how well she could visualize it if she only thought back to it.
~X~
You stopped complaining about the forest after that, you still didn’t like it, but, she didn’t have to drag you along anymore.
“Get it off me!” you cried, but still ran away from her. You were panicking about a spider that fell on your shoulder.
“So, stop running!” Cairo laughed, running after you to ‘save’ you from the evil monster that attacked you. It wasn’t even a big spider, it was tiny!
“Fine, but hurry up,” you whined, finally stopping and letting Cairo catch up to you.
Cairo looked you over, but didn’t see the spider. “It’s not here? Maybe it fell off?” she guessed. Well, with how you were running it wouldn’t be a surprise.
“Really?” you asked as she sat down on the grass.
“Yeah, come on and sit down,” she needed to catch her breath or a bit.
You just shook your head. “No. Bugs!” you pointed an accusing finger at the ground and as usual refused Cairo’s offer to sit with her.
Why did she even bother to ask you? She knew you’d say ‘no’. “Oh,” her eyes widened slightly when she saw the spider crawling back up to your shoulder. “Guess it didn’t fall off after all,” she chuckled uneasily.
“What?” you shrieked and looked to the side. “Cairo you meanie!” you cried out, as always dependent on her to protect you.
Cairo just laughed as she finally got up and removed the small spider from your shoulder, watching it curiously as it crawled to the tip of her finger.
She was still six, and there, in the dark, spooky forest where a rose bush could never thrive, things were still simple. As simple as letting a tiny spider crawl from her fingertip onto a tree while you frantically looked around for more bugs ready to, as you often said, viciously attack you.
~X~
At nine years old she was spending time at your house every now and then. And on one stormy day, when the two of you had no idea what to do, since you couldn’t go outside and the power was out, she just passed time by looking over the books your parents owned.
Finally, her eyes landed on Jules Verne’s ‘Around the World in Eighty Days,’ and she reached up for it. The world. How she yearned to explore it, to see something beside the village she lived in, to see the huge cities, to go to the biggest amusement parks, to visit the best bookstores, to experience things she couldn’t in this village.
So, yearning for the experience the book title promised, she brought it over to you and sat down. “Wanna read?” she offered, her big eyes pleading or you to say yes.
You looked a bit uncertain, but eventually you just nodded and lit a candle so the two of you could read.
Cairo hugged you briefly and pulled you to the floor so you could lie down and read together. She was mesmerized, amazed by the idea, eager to read more and mentally pleading for you to read faster, but, by the time she would finish two pages you’d just start reading the second page.
“Sorry, I’m not a fast reader,” you apologized when you noticed she was waiting to turn the page.
It wasn’t that you read slowly, you read about as fast as anyone could expect from a nine-year-old, it was Cairo that was reading faster than she was supposed to. “Would you- I don’t know, read it to me? I think that might be quicker?” you suggested, not wanting to slow her down.
Cairo thought it over and nodded happily. Maybe it wouldn’t be as fast as if she only had the book for herself, but she wouldn’t have to pause. So, you rolled onto your back and put your arms behind your head as she began reading from the very beginning.
She kept reading even as the power came back on and the rain stopped, mesmerized by the story in her hands. “Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” Cairo read as your mother came in with glasses of juice and some snacks for the two of you.
“What are you two doing?” she asked, curiously looking at the open book in front of Cairo.
“We’re reading, ma’am,” Cairo said politely as your mother crouched down next to you.
“Reading? This one as well?” your mother nudged you gently, actually teasing you, and you grinned. It wasn’t the first time Cairo saw how easy-going your parents were, or how you didn’t flinch when they came in or addressed you. She didn’t know how that felt and seeing your family only made her realize her own wasn’t exactly the way it should be.
There was warmth in this place, one that made her feel suffocated on the rare occasion when she was waiting for you, purely because she didn’t know how to exist in that warmth unless you were with her.
“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” You repeated word for word the last line Cairo read, and she and your mother just looked at you. “What? I was listening,” your grin dropped and you pouted slightly.
That was the first time Cairo realized that while she could remember almost anything she saw you could memorize sounds just as well.
~X~
It was simple and nice for another two years, and then it began shifting slowly. For the first time in her life Cairo didn’t get an A, she didn’t even get a B, but rather a C, but it would be fine, right? She was still the best in her class, seeing as only her and you got Cs, and it was a difficult test, the teacher said so as well!
She came inside to find her parents looking over some papers. A new case probably. “Father, mother,” she said a bit too quietly for her own liking. “I got the results for my test. I did my best and studied as much as I could, and the teacher said it was a-“
“Get to the point, Cairo,” her father cut her off like she was a waste of his time.
Cairo looked down, test in hand. Why did the furniture around her suddenly look so much bigger than her? It felt like everything was looming over her, and just for a moment she remembered the sight of that rose bush crushed under the fallen tree. “I got a C,” she told them timidly.
Her mother finally looked at her. “A C? Are you stupid? How could you get a C?” Cairo winced at that but hearing that wasn’t nearly as bad as looking at her mother and seeing just how disappointed she was.
One mistake and she was a failure in her parents’ eyes.
“We’ve given you everything, Cairo, and you’re wasting it playing all day long!” her father raised his voice, angry, furious even and she just looked down. “You are grounded, go to your room and fix this disgrace!”
She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes and began climbing up the stairs.
“Wait, what did L/N’s girl get?” her father suddenly demanded and she paused, seeing the reaction coming, yet finding herself unable to lie.
“A-a C as well,” she said and all hell broke loose as she curled up on her bed and tried to ignore her parents yelling, she was a disappointment, a burden, wasting their time and efforts, an ungrateful brat that would rather waste time running through the woods than study.
Her whole world felt like it was falling apart, the loneliness she couldn’t understand at that age threatening to consume her as she sobbed in her room, silently crying herself to sleep.
Unknowingly to her, you were having a much different conversation with your parents.
~X~
“Y/N,” your mother began once you were done eating dinner.
“Hm?” you looked away from the paper you were doodling on and turned to her.
“Did you get your test results?” she asked, smiling when you nodded.
“Yup! I got a C!” you exclaimed proudly causing both of your parents to look at you to see if you were joking with them.
“A C?” your father repeated, and you just nodded with a large grin on your face. “And you’re happy?” he sounded more curious than anything. To him it was just a test, it didn’t really matter as long as you tried your best, but he was genuinely confused by your reaction.
“Yeah, it was really hard, even Cai only got a C!” you ran over to your schoolbag to show them the test.
Your mother chuckled softly. “Well, if even Cairo got a C,” she smiled as you handed her the test. “I’m proud of you as long as you did your best,” she kissed your cheek softly.
~X~
When tomorrow came and you sat down next to Cairo she wanted to say hi, she wanted to talk to you like she usually would, she wanted to go and read with you again, but she still remembered the anger on her father’s face, the disappointment on her mother’s face, her blurry vision as she cried in her room.
She yearned for the attention of her parents, to have them talk to her, to take her to different places, to take her along with them at least every now and then, yet being the best student in her class wasn’t enough, and the mistake she made wasn’t to be tolerated.
And the more she glanced at you during the class, the more she saw that relaxed grin on your face, the more that desire to spend time with you transformed into misplaced anger. Why couldn’t she be as happy as you were?
“Hey, wanna play hide and seek later?” you asked between classes, always so carefree, never taking studying too seriously.
A twisted voice in her head, a part of her she didn’t want to admit existed, hated you for it. For having what she so desperately wished for and you took it for granted. “Sorry, I have to study,” she muttered, stuck between friendship and bitterness.
“Oh, tomorrow then?” she wanted to, she really did, even as that envious monster in the back of her head tried to put blame on you. It didn’t matter which side of her won though, at the end of the day she didn’t want to get yelled at again.
“I don’t have time,” Cairo told you, making her tone as cold as she could, letting that green monster grow stronger.
“Cai, what’s wrong?” you were too perceptive for your own good.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, she didn’t mean to, she loved the nickname, it was the only nickname she ever had.
You paused, startled by her reaction. “Right, sorry,” you looked away and the monster in her head faded away, leaving shame behind, but it was too late now. She could have fixed it, she could have taken those words back, but she wanted her parents to finally love her. No matter the cost.
“Just leave me alone, I’ll come to you if I feel like it,” she pushed you away, physically and stomped away, just so you couldn’t see the regret or tears in her eyes.
~X~ Present day ~X~
Cairo looked at you, her eyes wide in utter disbelief. You listened to her back then, you didn’t try to talk to her, you were waiting for her to come to you. Back then she wished she did that, she wished to do it every day. At the same time, she wanted you to forget what she said, to approach her and get her to talk to you, to grab her hand and stop her from leaving. You never did that. So, a week passed, and she was still stubborn.
A month passed, and she was no longer stubborn, but she was worried you’d be angry that it took her so long.
Half a year passed, she turned twelve and spent her first birthday without you around, and that worry turned into spite. Out of spite she kept you at a distance, not even saying ‘hi’.
And then, shortly after that, you moved with you parents and she wanted desperately to cry, but that would only make her parents angry at her again.
“Y/N,” she said uncertainly, despising how, even after so many years your name still fell so easily from her lips, how it still felt familiar on her tongue. You changed, grew up, grew taller than her, even if you were taller than her ever since the two of you were ten, now your height difference was noticeable even as you sat next to each other.
A cough broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the class just started. “I apologize,” she blushed a bit, thankful for the distraction. Thankful that she could listen to the author she admired, yet his words sounded so distant to her. You were right there, close enough to touch, and Cairo felt hot and cold at the same time.
She was happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago you came back. Why didn’t you look for her? You said her name so softly, you didn’t make a scene, surely you weren’t angry at her, but why didn’t you try and visit?
It’s been years, surely you didn’t still intend to listen to her childish demand.
Yet as the class went on her thoughts and insecurities festered in silence. You had to have come back weeks ago, at least that’s what she convinced herself of.
You didn’t care to look for her until pure luck put both of you in the same classroom.
And as minutes passed that bitterness overpowered the excitement and shock she felt when she recognized you. If you didn’t care to look for her, she wouldn’t care to make the first move either.
~X~
You could feel how tense she was throughout the whole class, glancing at you subtly from time to time and you wished to just reach over and place your hand on her shoulder. To ask her what was wrong. To not give up this time like you did all those years ago.
That was one decision you still regretted, thinking you’d never get the chance to fix it, yet here you were, right next to her.
The bell rang but the two of you remained seated, neither truly willing to move, until finally, under Miller’s confused gaze, Cairo picked up her things and nodded at him to say goodbye.
You could see how tense she was, how she still bit her lower lip whenever she was nervous, and it encouraged you to act, to not let her go this time.
“Cairo, wait,” you went after her and Winnie. “Let’s just grab a lunch, for old times’ sake?” you went straight to the point. This was Cairo, after all, she liked subtlety, especially in books, but she also liked being direct when she wanted something. “I know a restaurant, I think you’ll like it,” you said when she looked at you.
“You had time to visit those, I see,” Cairo said, and you could have sworn she looked away almost bitterly.
“Cairo,” you tried, but she was already turning around to walk away. You felt as if something was squeezing your chest, a feeling of unease you couldn’t shake off, like letting her leave now, like this, would be a mistake you couldn’t come back from. And in that moment, you were reminded of you and her, years ago, as your friendship shattered. “I didn’t mean in the village,” you called after her, taking notice of the way Winnie froze, and Cairo stiffened a bit.
“What?” she looked back, frowning as you closed the distance and offered her your hand.
“Let me take you out to a restaurant about an hour from here. Good food, peaceful, beautiful view, perfect for catching up. They even have live music,” you explained, just hoping she’d take your hand.
Winnie whistled at that. “Nice going new girl. Throw the girl a bone, Cairo,” she nudged Cairo a bit, but the girl remained silent, and you could almost imagine the gears turning in her head.
“Okay,” Cairo finally said, shaking your hand.
“Come on- wait, really?” Winnie looked genuinely surprised and just stared at your and Cairo’s connected hands.
“Thanks, Cairo,” you smiled softly, genuine relief washing over you as your hand trembled a bit, and she noticed, of course she noticed.
“Is Saturday okay with you?” she asked, her expression softening as she took a small step closer to you.
“Yeah,” the two of you just stood there, in the middle of the hall, in front of Miller’s classroom, as if captivated by one another to the point of forgetting the world around you.
Somehow, at that moment, you knew you wouldn’t let go of her, not without a fight.
~X~
The night started like most of Winnie’s night did, at Cairo’s place. It was big, Cairo was often lonely, she liked spending time with Cairo, it was a win-win situation in her mind. Besides, the beds were really comfortable.
How long ago had she fallen in love with the girl? With her mysterious aura, a hard to approach exterior with a surprisingly softer side, with the acceptance of others she didn’t expect from someone born in Cairo’s circumstances. And it didn’t hurt that Cairo was beautiful, but none of that mattered. Cairo just didn’t see her that way.
No matter how much Winnie tried that was one thing that never changed. No, that wasn’t quite right. Cairo never changed. She was the immovable object standing strong no matter what forces tried to move her.
And it wasn’t just Winnie. Cairo never really saw anyone that way, she was stuck in her books and writing, and Winnie never realized what it was that Cairo wanted. She thought Cairo wanted more books, more of what she already loved, so she’d get her more books, and yeah, they made Cairo happy, but it never changed the way Cairo looked at her.
But then you said you’d take Cairo out of the village and Winnie swore she saw something she never saw in Cairo’s eyes. You and Cairo knew each other, that much she understood, but you’ve been apart for at least the past four years. And you, just like that, in one sentence, made Cairo look lost in her thoughts, a yet to be opened book in her hands.
And even worse than that, Winnie heard your name before, though Cairo never talked about you. Between Cairo’s reaction to recognizing you, and then her willingness to let you take her out, take her somewhere outside of the village, there was no doubt in Winnie’s mind that you were the same person from that night.
~X~
Cairo was in a really bad mood the whole week and Winnie wanted to cheer her up, but nothing was working. It was like it didn’t matter that they had good weather, that a small cinema just opened in the village. Well, Cairo wasn’t much of a movie fan, she preferred her books, so that didn’t do much for her, but it was something new in their village! And as hard as Winnie tried, she couldn’t understand why Cairo was in a bad mood.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened, yet the girl didn’t want to leave her bed.
“Come on, Cairo, talk to your Winnie,” she tried to poke her, but Cairo just pushed her hand away.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, though Winnie could see her eyes were a bit puffy. And the open book next to Cairo’s head looked a bit wet.
Winnie sighed. Why wasn’t anything working? She groaned, losing her patience with the girl and leaving her bedroom. She’d go and make some food for Cairo, since she wasn’t sure when was the last time the girl ate, but as she came back after spending way too much time deciding on what to make for Cairo with a sandwich in hand, she realized Cairo was asleep.
Yet even asleep Cairo looked tense.
Cairo mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, not for the first time, she often talked in her sleep, though Winnie rarely got the opportunity to hear it. Well, at least she was sleeping. She figured she should leave, and so she placed the plate on Cairo’s nightstand and turned to leave. She didn’t dare to push a few strands of Cairo’s hair out of her face.
“Wait,” Cairo muttered and for a moment Winnie’s heart skipped a beat, but when she turned, she saw Cairo was still asleep. “Y/N,” the girl said a name Winnie never heard before, but she said it with so much longing Winnie could have sworn her own heart broke for the girl. Who was she dreaming about? Why did she never mention this ‘Y/N’? She didn’t know, she wouldn’t dare to ask because the tone of Cairo’s voice told her enough already.
~X~
The moment Cairo realized who you were that night came to Winnie’s mind and at first Winnie was worried. She wasn’t sure how Cairo would react, and more importantly she wasn’t sure what made the two of you separate. Yet that worry began fading when she realized just how softly you were looking at Cairo, she saw the same longing in your eyes, the same intensity as the longing she heard in Cairo’s voice.
And though she could admit she was feeling jealous that you so openly looked at Cairo like she was the only one in the room, she was glad whatever separated you and Cairo didn’t leave you mad at the girl.
“What are you thinking about?” Winnie finally chose to speak up and if Cairo wasn’t as composed as she was, she was sure the girl would have jumped a bit.
“Just childhood,” she said as she got up and placed the book back on the shelf, and Winnie saw that it was some book by Jules Verne, which wasn’t too unusual, but it definitely wasn’t the genre Cairo was currently into.
“About Y/N?” she asked, observing carefully as Cairo went stiff, as she looked to the side, refusing to meet Winnie’s gaze.
“It doesn’t matter, I have other things to do,” Cairo grabbed a pack of cigarettes and went to her laptop, and Winnie got a message, she didn’t feel like talking about you.
But she still agreed to go with you, and while she didn’t say it, and while she tried to hide it, Winnie knew her well enough by now. Cairo wanted you back in her life.
~X~
Saturday came way too quickly! Between classes, settling down, handling the moving, well, a handful of things that you couldn’t carry on your motorcycle being shipped to you, and all the small details that took up your time you felt like you blinked, and Saturday arrived!
You haven’t seen Cairo since Monday, and you had to admit you were a bit too anxious for your own liking. What would you talk about? Would you be able to go back to the way things were before she suddenly cut you off from her life? No, of course it couldn’t be the same. It’s been years, you were both different people now.
Would she be okay with riding on your motorcycle? Was that pushing her too far out of blue? Forcing her to be that close to you? Maybe you should take your parents’ car? Did it have enough gas though?
Maybe you should, but you weren’t that experienced with cars, you were much more comfortable on your motorcycle, and you didn’t want to be a nervous mess in front of Cairo. Well, any bigger nervous mess than you were going to be in less than half an hour.
Motorcycle it is! If she isn’t comfortable, you’ll just go back and get the car. With that in mind you went to get dressed, opting for simple jeans and a white T-shirt, with your jacket, gloves, and boots.
And now you just sat there on the stairs, taking slow, deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You didn’t even specify the time! And you didn’t get her bloody number! “Damn it!” you yelled, almost slamming your helmet and the rest of the protective gear on and got on your motorcycle. You’ll figure shit out with her instead of torturing yourself like this!
~X~
She should have asked you for your number. She should have told you exact time you should meet up. Was she supposed to come to you, or would you come to her house? Why didn’t she think this out more carefully?!
Since when did she become so spontaneous and disorganized?! This was already a disaster and you weren’t even here!
All things considered, Cairo’s been ready for an embarrassingly long time, for about two hours now. Since seven in the morning since she could barely sleep last night. And she spent an hour going through her wardrobe, never quite happy with what she was wearing. In the end she chose to go with black shorts and a button-up baby blue shirt. She was so distracted by her own worries that she nearly missed someone ringing her bell. It had to be you, after all, one of the last buses would leave in half an hour and after that you wouldn’t be able to leave for another three hours.
She took a deep breath and went to the front doors a bit too quickly for her own liking, but there was no going back now. She opened the doors and saw you, with a helmet in hand and a bit of a nervous smile on your face. You were wearing a sturdy-looking black jacket with red stripes going down the sleeves and your sides, it matched your gloves and helmet as well. Wait… A helmet? Her eyes widened. “When did you come back?” she blurted out, surprising you.
“Hm? Oh, Last Saturday night, I drove down the road,” you pointed with your thumb behind you. “So maybe you heard me? The lights were on,” you said sheepishly and sure enough, there was a red motorcycle on the road, parked right next to her gate.
You were her biker from last week. Somehow that made her swallow the lump in her throat and ignore the way her heart hammered in her chest.
“Sorry, yeah, I heard you, I just,” she frowned, hating the shakiness of her voice. “I did hear you, I just didn’t realize it was you,” she said, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course she didn’t realize it was you. Why would she? She didn’t know you were coming back, it never even crossed her mind that you’d come back, and she certainly never imagined you coming back on a motorcycle.
She never even imagined you coming back at all. No matter how happy she was to see you again, she had no idea why you’d ever come back here.
You smiled, as if you relaxed due to her embarrassing stammering. “It’s okay, hey, it’s just me,” you said softly, and Cairo nodded, finding it ironic that your roles kind of reversed and now you were the one comforting her instead of the other way around. “By the way, I know we didn’t specify the time, so, do you need me to wait for you, or maybe come later?”
“Now is fine, I’m ready,” she said, and you rubbed the back of your head nervously.
“You should put jeans or something like that on,” you muttered. “And a jacket, sorry, I should have brought another one with me,” you apologized as Cairo blushed. Yeah, her shorts probably weren’t a good idea if you were going on a motorcycle. “Or would you like me to go get my parents’ car?”
She shook her head. “No, this is fine, I’ll go get changed,” in her nervousness she slammed the doors closed and then leaned her forehead against it. “I’m so stupid,” she whispered, feeling her face burning as she pleaded for the ground to open up and swallow her. First conversation in almost seven years, the first time alone after all that time and she was a nervous wreck. And now she pretty much slammed the door in your face to make things even worse.
She ran up the stairs and changed into the first jeans she came across and grabbed a denim jacket. It would have to do, she didn’t have anything as sturdy as what you were wearing. She looked at the mirror and blushed even harder when she realized her face was still so red. “Come on, Cairo, get it together,” she glanced outside her window, you were still there, still waiting for her. She really should have invited you in instead of closing the doors like that.
Well, there was no going back now. She went outside again and scratched her cheek a bit as you looked her over and nodded. This would do. She followed you to your motorcycle and stopped when you pulled guards for elbows and knees and shins out.
“I’m a careful biker, but better safe than sorry. Did you ever put these on?” you asked her.
“No,” she said, and you dropped down to your knee and her heart must have stopped for a moment because she suddenly felt lightheaded.
“It might be better if I put them on you the first time, to make sure everything is in place. Is that okay with you?” you looked at her and waited until she nodded, not trusting her voice.
You didn’t waste time or any movement, from what she could tell, just putting the guards on her legs and elbows and then taking the helmet and gently put it on her and she was thankful that the visor was already down because you were tucking her hair in and your fingers accidentally brushed against her neck and she just knew her entire face was about as red as it could get.
She would have to mark this date as the day filled with embarrassment and absolutely everything going wrong for her.
~X~
You managed to calm your nerves as the two of you got on the motorcycle, Cairo even placed her hands around your waist without you telling her and that was a relief, because you could tell she was nervous, but you weren’t sure if she wanted to talk or just relax during the ride, so, you remained silent for the most part.
When you got on the open road and drove for a few miles you felt her hands unclenching from their vice grip on your jacket and she seemed to relax a bit.
“Is this okay?” you asked her through the helmet’s communication system.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you do this a lot?” she asked and you could hear she was still a bit nervous.
“You mean riding? Or having a passenger?” you grinned a bit, hoping you weren’t making her feel awkward.
“Both actually,” Cairo loosened up a bit, relaxing against you.
“Yes, for riding, no, for passengers, well, it happened a few times, but more because we didn’t have much of a choice than because I wanted someone behind me,” you told her, keeping your focus entirely on the road ahead even if there weren’t many cars driving by you.
“Mhm,” she accepted the answer, leaning a bit closer to you now, though maybe that was just to be safe.
About an hour later and only a bit of occasional questions and comments about the nature you rode past, you arrived at your destination. It was exactly what you promised, the beautiful view with river flowing nearby, a mountain cottage aesthetic to the restaurant and a nice live music playing just loud enough to enhance the feel.
You and Cairo sat down across one another and she gracefully took the menu. You were still early enough for a breakfast, so you knew exactly what you wanted.
“All of this looks good,” she commented as she flipped through the menu. “You went here before, right?”
You nodded. “Lots of times,” you didn’t want to admit it, but you wanted to go back to the village several times, to maybe see if Cairo was still there, or ask her parents for a way to contact her, but you always changed your mind in the last possible second, turning around and coming here to take a break.
“Help me out then?” she requested with a small pout on her face.
“I suggest French toast with berries and whipped cream if you’d like something sweet, or an mushrooms and onion omelet if you’re not in the mood for sweets,” you said, those were by far your favorites as far as breakfast menu went.
Cairo nodded as the waiter came over.
“Hey, Y/N, you brought company this time,” he was a polite man in his late twenties, and you came to the restaurant so regularly pretty much everyone on the staff knew you by now.
“Hello, yeah,” you met her eyes, silently asking for her permission to introduce her, and as if the years changed nothing between you, she smiled a bit. “This is Cairo, my childhood friend,”
He turned to her and nodded, bowing slightly. “Nice to meet you, I’m Robert and I’ll be your waiter for the day. What may I bring you?”
“I’ll have French toast with berries and whipped cream, and a Coca Cola please,” Cairo said.
Robert nodded, writing it down and turning to you.
“Mushroom and onion omelet with iced tea,” you told him.
“Coming right up,” he nodded, leaving the two of you alone.
And, as if the small interaction broke all the tension between the two of you, you just leaned forward, your arms resting on the table with your gloves and your and Cairo’s helmets safely out of the way. “Tell me everything,” you told her. “How have you been? What’s been going on these past years?”
Cairo didn’t lean in as much as you, but she did get a bit closer. “I really don’t have a lot to tell you. You know how things are back home, nothing ever changes,” she said, looking away for a moment before looking at you again. “Well, we did get a cinema, and Winnie likes to go there often so, I guess I’ve been reluctantly watching movies.”
You laughed at that. Cairo and movies? Now that sounded almost ridiculous when you were kids. “For real? I’m glad she got you to try something new,” you replied, nodding to Robert as he brought your drinks.
“She’s persistent, but she’s been my best friend ever since I started high school,” Cairo said with a smile on her face, and you could tell she cared about the girl.
“I’m happy to hear that,” and you were, you were worried she would still be lonely, but she found a best friend, one capable of dragging her to movies of all things.
“And you? I mean, as far as best friends go?” she asked, turning the glass in front of her before opening the bottle and pouring some of the Coca Cola in.
“I haven’t really stayed in one place long enough to get to that point. My parents moved a lot until I was fifteen,” you told her. “And after that, well, they settled down, but then I began moving since I turned sixteen and got my motorcycle,” you explained. You really did move a lot, and you never really made connections worth the best friend status. After all, Cairo did set the bar pretty high.
“So, you went and began traveling,” she looked through the window. “This is my first time outside our village,” you found it hard to believe, but looking at her face you realized she was telling the truth.
“You’ll have time to explore every place you want. You’re not late for anything,” you just told her, though you couldn’t tell her that you were happy you were the first one who got to take her somewhere. There, with the last hints of morning light shining through the window and illuminating her hair you felt your breath getting stuck in your throat.
For the first time in your life, you didn’t think Cairo was pretty, she was beautiful, so effortlessly beautiful you found it hard to look away. And she didn’t change much from what you could tell. She was still a lot like she was when you were kids, only more closed-off from the looks of it.
You missed her, you missed this, even if having a meal in a restaurant wasn’t something you used to do as kids, well, without your parents taking you there at the very least. No, you just missed being with her, her voice, her eyes, her smile, you missed all of that.
And in the midst of that realization, you didn’t figure out something just as important. That there was a feeling that wasn’t there before emerging in your heart.
“You think?” she sounded uncertain.
You just nodded, even if she was uncertain, you’ve met enough people to know that she was exceptional.
You ended up having a lunch at the restaurant as well, talking about random things, about a book Cairo read, or about a place you visited, or a movie Winnie made her watch, or a new song she recently heard. And that eventually moved the conversation toward music.
“Do you still remember everything you hear?” she asked, smiling fondly as if she was reminiscing about good old times when the two of you would spend time reading. Well, when she would read and you’d listen.
“Unfortunately,” you chuckled, remembering way too vividly that teacher reading about… split fig. “Don’t ask, I have scars I wish I could erase from my memory,” you quickly raised a hand to stop her. It wasn’t even the split fig, as much as the circumstances during which you heard it.
“Okay, okay,” she laughed, giving up on further questioning. “Did you consider learning to play an instrument?” she asked instead, and you looked back toward the band.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you teased, looking back at her and watching her light up.
“You did, didn’t you?” Cairo sounded excited about the idea.
You just winked at her and hopped to your feet. “I’ll be back soon enough,” you jogged over to the band without waiting for her reply.
“Hey, Jack, mind if I borrow your guitar?” you opened with that, not even bothering to say ‘hi’ properly. You were a bit excited to play a song for her.
“Hello to you too, biker girl, which song are we playing?” he humored you, glancing behind you and seeing Cairo. He seemed to piece it together quickly enough.
“Just instrumentals this time. I don’t want to miss a thing, the guitar cover,” you told him, accepting the electric guitar and taking a seat.
You weren’t sure if Cairo would recognize the song, and maybe the lyrics would be a bit too much in case she already didn’t know the song. So, just this would do. You nodded to the rest of the band, and they began playing. You waited for half a minute and then joined them and as you played you looked at Cairo, smiling back at you as she listened and swayed a bit to the soft tunes of the guitar you were playing.
Still, it didn’t look like she recognized the song, she just enjoyed the melody. And that was fine as well, perfect even as far as you were concerned.
The song ended and you thanked Jack before going back to Cairo. “I guess I can play a bit,” you said as you sat down.
“A bit? Yeah, that was a bit. What song was that?” she demanded but you just shook your head. “Come on, tell me!” and there was that pout again, the one you remembered so fondly from your childhood.
“You will never know!” you laughed, ignoring her pleading eyes, if only to convince yourself you were strong enough to resist her now.
“Please, I want to listen to it,” she tried again, but you were adamant on staying silent.
You might tell her later, not now though. She could live a bit longer without knowing the song.
~X~
The ride back was pleasant, the soft breeze, the almost empty open road, the smooth way you drove, as well as how easy it felt to just put her arms around your waist. When you parked outside her house, she almost reluctantly got off your motorcycle, but staying on it would have been too awkward to explain.
“Thank you for today, I loved it,” she said as you took off the knee and shin guards off her while she was handling the elbow guards.
“Thank you for accepting,” you reached up and helped her get the helmet off since she still wasn’t used to doing it. You didn’t take your own helmet off, just lifted your visor so she could see your eyes.
She felt at peace, she finally set foot outside her village, she just expanded her world, and she did it with you. And she couldn’t think of a better person to do it with.
“I missed you,” she said, her hands reaching for your helmet and, as if in trance, you helped her take your helmet off and lowered it on your seat, and Cairo, she just stepped forward, hugging you not nearly as tightly as she wanted to do, but still, she was hugging you.
“I missed you too, Cairo,” you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her a bit closer.
She didn’t want the night to end, she wanted to invite you in, to talk more, to make up for lost time, to apologize and explain what happened that day, to tell you just how much she wanted to approach you. But she did none of that, she just separated from you once again and smiled at you as she watched you get on your motorcycle.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” you said, and she nodded, eager to see you again. You looked into each other’s eyes for another minute, neither of you ready to leave before you reluctantly drove off and she watched your back, and then the empty road. You were back.
And she couldn’t be happier.
A/N: And that's chapter 1. Taglist?
Genius Masterlist / Part 2




