I don’t like this trend in media where struggling characters “have” to die. why aren’t addicts and outcasts allowed to have happy or hopeful endings anymore. I know things are bleak and people die but holy shit. the one grace of media is that you can CHOOSE to live in the best reality possible where EVERYONE can move on with their life and things can get better, not this defeatist nonsense.
bishop who had been at it for at least an hour, soft tongue licking all over your pussy. the inside of your thighs soaking his beard, dripping down your ass. bishop sat on his knees in front of the couch, his big hands under your thighs: shoving them into your chest.
“fuck baby, eat that pussy.” your breathing is heavy as your throw your head back. his lips latch onto your clit, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to leave a hickey on your clit.
the sounds are vulgar as he slurps you up, your eyes rolling back and your thighs start shaking around his head again, “I’m gonna cum, daddy, fuck.” he lets out a loud growl in response, shoving his tongue inside of you, tongue fucking your pussy.
your legs drop as you cum, bishop licking up all the mess; “fuck daddy.” you moan. he gives you clit on last kiss, kissing up your tummy, stopping to suck one of your nipples for a second before kissing you mouth; letting you taste yourself.
your eyes are locked on each other as he stands, unbuckling his belt slowly.
Could you maybe do something about being friends with Rue and is stuck with her in the same situation. You both left Laurie and are now working for Alamo and while working for him that's how you get with Bishop ? Eeeek if that makes sense please ty
i gave it some lesbianism
.˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ⋆.
the only one — Rue Bennett x Reader/Bishop x Reader
★
Living with Nazis wasn't something you expected to experience in your short, miserable, and pathetic life.
But Rue was your friend. You loved her, loved her like no other girl in the world. You met her after Laurie tracked her down after years of searching, owing her millions of dollars for a suitcase full of drugs—money she never paid back, money Laurie let slip by for ages, with that unwavering patience of hers.
Money came and went, but not this. It was $10,000 worth of drugs, meant for Rue, in her lazy and stupid way, to finally get high.
And you? Well, threats. Your father, an addict who had swindled Laurie, and when he was murdered, they took you in. You would do the work he hadn't. Laurie tried to be understanding, but Harvey wasn't as patient as she was. He was resentful, just like the other three members. Basically, it was four of you against the peaceful drug dealer.
So, yeah, you met Rue under strange and disgusting circumstances, as a mule, swallowing pellets of fentanyl, with an absurdly high risk of dying.
Because, just imagine it, a single bag of fentanyl, bursting inside you, all your organs starting to rot. It was better to shit yourself until you crossed the border, disgusting, but less embarrassing than looking like a pregnant woman with a stomach full of fentanyl.
But despite everything, Rue was always very kind, she was funny, you talked about stupid things, she talked about her ex-girlfriend, which made you feel a little resentment towards her, but Rue spoke of her as if she were an angel fallen from heaven, as a savior for her, which definitely made you feel sorry for her, seeing how her eyes lit up just at the mention of her name, or hearing that story over and over again about how her ex dumped her at the train station.
You were always there for her, doing drug deliveries, trips, everything. You were always together, because Rue was Rue. She needed supervision one way or another, she needed that support, to talk to a girl her own age. There was Faye, sure, but she was too busy flirting with that damn Nazi Wayne.
And Rue wouldn't say it out loud, but she'd developed a slight attraction to you. I mean, she was crazy about feminine, strong-willed girls, but above all, she loved boobs, and she'd seen them more than once. You were both women, and you'd never judge her for being a lesbian, so you didn't have a problem with her seeing you half-naked.
She remembered every mole, freckle, and mark on your torso, even the size of your breasts, the left one being slightly larger than the right, and she was dying to grab them and leave marks. But you weren't attracted to girls, what a shame.
Despite Rue's lustful desires, you never actually had that conversation, assuming Rue saw you as a friend, just as you saw her—a bond of friendship that left no room for romantic feelings.
One night, Wayne sent you to the outskirts of California, to the mansion of a certain Alamo Brown. He warned you not to screw things up, which made you sigh when Rue told you to come along. Just thinking about the name made you imagine a gangster, covered in rings and with prostitutes dancing for him.
“Don't be nervous, okay? It's just a matter of getting there and leaving.”
Rue was driving, with you in the passenger seat. Her hand moved to your thigh, giving it a gentle pat to ease the tension that was coursing through your body. You shrugged, the fanny pack full of drugs clutched in your hands, staring at the nearly deserted road, listening to the audiobook of the Bible that Rue had suddenly become obsessed with. You rolled your eyes as you smiled softly at her words.
“Yeah, I know, but Laurie never mentioned this guy before… I can’t help feeling a little nervous.”
Rue glanced at you and gently squeezed your thigh before moving her hand to the gearshift. The mansion that was coming into view caught her eye, and she sighed, getting closer and closer to the drop-off location.
Upon arriving, you both noticed the silhouette of a man standing in the parking lot. You muttered under your breath, staring at the man standing like a statue, waiting for them as if he'd been there for hours, making you incredibly nervous.
“You go out.”
You handed her the fanny pack, placing it on her lap. Rue looked at you, slightly nervous, cursing herself, glancing back as the garage door closed, trapping them both inside.
“Okay, let’s do this. Stay here.”
She got out of the car, fanny pack in hand, looking at the man standing in front of her. She handed it to him, and he opened it, looking at the contents. He glanced back at Rue, then at you, making you shrug and smile nervously.
But what seemed like a quick and easy exchange turned into a stomach-churning mess when Rue spoke to him, walking into the mansion without even looking at you. You swore and put a hand to your face.
“This weak bladder…”
You sighed, rubbing your eyes with one hand, looking back at the man in front of you, your gaze locked for what felt like an eternity, feeling sweat begin to form on your back, nerves and anxiety rising through your body.
As minutes, almost hours, passed, you saw that Rue wasn't coming back. You cursed under your breath, leaning your head back on the seat, putting your feet up and closing your eyes, trying not to think so much about time, about how long Rue was taking, about how nervous this whole situation was making you, how Laurie never mentioned Alamo…
You opened your eyes when the window softly rattled, looking out to see the same man with the afro standing in front of the car. You bit your lip before rolling down the window, leaning out and giving him a nervous smile.
“Get out of the car.”
You blinked repeatedly, glancing to the side, searching for Rue. When you didn't see her, you looked back at him.
“Where's Rue?”
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
You swallowed hard before opening the car door and getting out, closing it behind you. Instantly, the man grabbed your arm and made you groan, dragging you inside the mansion, up the stairs, almost pulling you through the hallways, until you reached Alamo's office.
Rue was there. She turned to look at you, biting her lower lip, then back at Alamo. They had made a deal: for taking one of his girls with that supposed fentanyl, Alamo would see if God trusted Rue, and if so, he would give her the chance to work at the strip club with him. Including you.
★
Rue went pale as the bullet struck the apple of her head. You couldn't see, even if you wanted to, standing next to Alamo, who grimaced, followed by Rue's nervous, almost psychedelic laughter. In your mind, you thought it would be better to be shot in the head than to keep carrying fentanyl pellets in your stomach.
But God had faith in you, accepted you, and led you down the same street as Alamo. Unfortunately for you, you had no intention of working at the club, but Alamo definitely had other plans for you.
“I don't think you need a boob job, but maybe a lip injection would do you good.”
And judging by the gold rosary you were wearing, Alamo decided to christen you Mary.
Stupid. Just plain stupid.
“Don't worry, the girls are going to teach you how to pole dance. It'll be easy for a malnourished girl like you.”
★
So… Yeah, right now, you'd be a dancer at the club, with Rue working as your assistant, cleaning, making sure the girls were happy and comfortable—easy.
But not for you.
You'd gotten your lips injected, and you felt like Faye at that moment—all that was missing was some fucking Nazi falling for you.
Luckily, there weren't any Nazis in sight.
You started to connect more with the girls at the club. Angel was surprisingly sweet when you arrived, teaching you everything you needed to know. But it wasn't the same with Magick. She gave you anxiety every time you heard her speak, though despite the disagreements they might have, you had faith they'd get along better.
And Rue? Well, she'd been living the dream life, almost. Breasts everywhere, surgically enhanced butts, girls flocking to her whenever they needed help or drugs. On the other hand, you could swear you saw chemistry between her and Angel; the way they looked at each other was mesmerizing to outsiders, though sometimes Rue seemed to be mesmerized by looking at you.
Rue had even told you how one night, after finishing her shift, she locked herself in Angel's car, moaning and clutching his hair in such desperation. She'd even shown you a small bite mark Angel had left on her thigh, and you laughed when Rue, in her own words, claimed she'd never had a pussy as delicious as Angel's in her life.
“You're disgusting.”
You laughed. You were both in the bathroom. Rue was helping you put on your lingerie. It seemed like a dream for her to see you half-naked every day, a blessing for her, assuming God was on the side of lesbians, because Rue couldn't stop biting her lip when you came out of the bathroom behind her, looking you up and down, cursing under her breath, unable to believe she had such a sexy girl nearby.
And she wasn't the only one who thought that.
Bishop had also become close to you, not because you wanted to, but because Alamo had sent you both on some errands. You weren't sleeping well at night, nor during the day, and you were surprised at how Bishop could keep up with Alamo's orders, how he did everything perfectly, even if he made faces while driving or gripped the steering wheel too tightly. He maintained his composure perfectly.
You were quite the chatterbox, even though you knew Bishop was tired of listening to you. You'd keep recounting all the overwhelming experiences you'd had with Laurie, what it was like living with an addicted dad, how you met Rue—all those things you had to tell during a car ride that lasted, at most, an hour, overwhelming your companion's peaceful mind.
“I mean… I'm over 20. When I was 15, I imagined myself as a wife with kids and a nice house… Maybe I'm not too far from that, but I think it'll take me years to meet a man who wants to be with me.”
Bishop didn't even look at you at that moment; he was just focused on the road, letting out a sigh.
“I agree.”
You frowned slightly, turning your head to look at him, letting out a soft laugh, and putting your feet up on the seat, knowing how much Bishop hated it when you put your feet up on the seat, even if you'd cleaned your shoes—unlike Rue's worn-out Converse.
Your relationship with Bishop was… peculiar. Even at the club, he kept a close eye on you. Assuming you were new, he must have been making sure you were doing your job properly, or that you weren't too foolish to ruin some service Alamo forced you to provide for clients. But even after months of working there, those glances continued, so much so that you were the first to look away, feeling that tension every time you were together.
“You never hooked up with any of the girls at the club? It's strange knowing that Kidd and G sleep with more than one dancer.”
Bishop pretended not to care, but he definitely felt uncomfortable hearing you talk about his colleagues having sex with the club's girls. He knew it, but he hadn't given it much thought. Even if Alamo slept with the girls more than once—in the bar of his mansion, in the office, in practically every corner—hearing it from someone else felt odd.
“I don't have time for that.”
You glanced at him and suppressed a smile, reaching for the car radio, turning on the music, and turning up the volume. “Ain’t No Love In The Heart Of The City” was playing. You leaned your head back in the seat when you heard Bishop’s thumb tapping on the steering wheel. Even though his face was still serious, he loved listening to music while driving. It was as if you’d read his mind.
“I like this song.”
You turned to face him, smiling. He glanced at you and suppressed a smile, hoping his seriousness would stay put.
“Who sings it?”
“Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland.”
Bishop's response was immediate, as if he'd been waiting for you to ask, making you laugh. You'd never seen Bishop so excited to talk about something like this before, even though his face still looked serious and expressionless, maintaining that serenity and air of disinterest.
“I've never heard of him.”
“You will.”
His free hand moved to the gearshift, slightly accelerating. They weren't really in a hurry, but you had to be at the club in an hour, so for Bishop, being on time meant 10 minutes early.
“So... you don't like any of the girls at the club?”
“I never said that.”
“So you do like someone.”
“And you?”
“Rue's the lesbian, not me.”
Bishop stifled a laugh, glancing to the side. You laughed in response, biting your lower lip and shaking your head between soft chuckles.
“So, what do you like?”
You thought for a moment. You didn't really have a specific type, but you'd be lying if you didn't say that no one at the club attracted you physically, even Kidd, though he was the last person on your mind. Then you said…
“What if I say I like you?”
Bishop didn't answer right away. He considered the answer for a moment, then gently turned his head to look at you. His eyes darted up and down, his lips pressed together, and he looked straight ahead again, letting out a sigh.
“I'd be flattered.”
And the last thing you knew, Bishop pulled over to the side of the road. “A quickie,” he said. “Just the tip,” he said…
The car shook, both of you in the back seat, missionary position, your hands on the fogged-up window. It was June, with the heavy California heat; the car was almost unbearable. But with Bishop completely inside you, your walls tightening around him, deliberately around his dick, so swollen with anticipation, his hips moving so desperately against yours, panting and moaning against your neck.
“I’m close…”
Your nails tugged at his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his hands grip your waist tightly, his hand sliding down to your hip, squeezing your skin so hard it made you shudder. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling Bishop all the way in, rubbing his hips against yours, so close to orgasm that his eyes rolled back.
But before he finished, he pulled his dick out of you, almost clumsily climbing on top of you. The space in a Dodge Charger was limited, especially because of the model Bishop had. Even so, his hips pressed against your face, masturbating in your face. Bishop was mesmerized by your lips, fuller than when he first met you, your tongue licking his balls with moans, gripping his hips to keep him close, feeling his hand move to your needy, tearful cunt, caressing your clit, making your legs tremble so much you could barely think.
The first spurts of cum escaped from his dick, staining your face and the car window. He groaned softly, throwing your head back, moving his hand from his dick to your hair, forcing you to keep licking his balls, holding back his orgasm.
Your pussy responded to his fingers, cumming on them, lifting your hips and squeezing your thighs tightly to contain your orgasm, so loud that you moaned so loudly you swore the passing cars could hear you.
When he finished, Bishop settled into the seat next to you, panting, placing your legs on his lap, caressing them to calm the tremors and agitations of your body. You were panting and sighing as if you had run a marathon, gently opening your eyes, wiping the cum from your forehead and bringing it to your lips, looking at Bishop with flushed cheeks.
“We’ll be late.”
Even with those words, Bishop didn't bother to get dressed or adjust himself, nor did he stop stroking your legs.
“Yeah... I'll stay here, sit up front.”
You settled gently into the seat, sitting down and putting on your clothes. At that moment, Bishop realized how much he would miss seeing your titties. Although he saw them every night, he didn't know when the next time he would suck on them would be.
★
“So, you hooked up in his car.”
Rue said, sitting on the sink in the women's restroom, while you were in one of the stalls, flushing and leaving, standing next to her, washing your hands, and glancing at you with a smirk.
You had told her, not that it was specifically Bishop, but that you had an encounter with someone. She assumed it was a client who was going to pay you extra or a temporary boyfriend.
“Yeah, it was… It was pretty good.”
Rue nodded at your words, looking to the side, ignoring the fact that she was getting a little jealous, even though days before she herself had slept with Angel, telling you all about it in detail.
When she turned to look at you, she saw that your thong was a little messy, so she got up from the sink and moved her hands to your hips to straighten the straps. You didn't say anything, because that was Rue's job, to make sure the girls looked good.
“Did he eat your pussy?”
You splashed your hands to get rid of the excess water, glancing at Rue in the mirror's reflection, frowning slightly. You turned your head to look at her, noticing that her hands were still on your hips.
“Why do you want to know?”
You laughed, turning around and leaning against the sink, facing Rue, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a small smile on your face.
“It was just a quickie.”
You said, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror, examining your face, picking up the lipstick you'd left there. You had your own dressing room with the other girls, sure, but you always made time to be alone with Rue. This job had created a bit of distance between you, leaving you barely able to talk.
“And did you enjoy it?”
Rue's hands returned to your hips, resting her chin on your shoulder, her thumbs caressing your skin, making you shiver slightly, still watching her in the mirror's reflection.
“I think he enjoyed me.”
“I would have loved to be there.”
“Watching us? Like a voyeur?”
“No… I would have liked to have you.”
Your laughter faded slightly, lowering both hands and placing them against the sink, looking down, watching her thumbs gently squeeze your hip, making you sigh.
“But I've never been with a girl.”
“I can be the first.”
You sighed as Rue began kissing your shoulders, her fingers playing with the straps of your thong, gently pulling it down, waiting for you to stop her, but instead, you parted your legs so Rue could remove it completely. Rue smiled and pulled your thong all the way down, parting your left buttock with one hand, while her fingers moved around your wet slit, moaning against your ear, suddenly inserting two fingers into your cunt without any warning, making you moan, placing your hands on the mirror, leaning forward, closing your eyes as you moaned.
“You’re so wet…”
Rue crouched behind you, her mouth moving softly with kisses down your lower back, reaching your ass, her tongue tracing the tight ring, still sliding her fingers in and out of you, making you tremble. You pressed your cheek against the mirror, almost sitting on the sink, covering your mouth with one hand, hoping no one would come in now.
“R-Rue… Hurry.”
You didn’t know why you didn’t stop her; you just felt her tongue slide down your ass, to your pussy, licking the entrance. Both hands were on your ass, squeezing and playing with it, gently pulling away, standing up, one hand behind you, sliding her fingers back in, while the other gripped your hair, pulling you closer. She pressed her chest against your back, thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy quickly. It was impossible to hide your sharp moans anymore, escaping with every movement of her fingers as they touched that specific spot inside you.
“I-I’m gonna cum…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Yeah…”
Rue left her fingers deep inside you, moving them and being squeezed by your walls, commanding them to stay there, deep inside, until your womb felt it needed that release. You came on Rue’s fingers the same way you had with Bishop’s, panting, your hands still on the mirror, watching yourself as you moaned and seeing Rue’s face almost sweaty and flushed, moving her fingers gently to delay your orgasm as long as possible.
★
You both left the bathroom, Rue behind you. You went back to your dressing room as you watched Rue walk away toward the bar where Bishop was, catching his attention, following her with his eyes, which made Rue stop beside him, leaning on the table next to him.
“Alamo was looking for you.”
Rue grimaced, swallowing hard and running a hand over her lips, glancing to the side as she watched you approach one of your regulars, chatting with him with that natural flirtatiousness of yours, smiling, the lip gloss giving your lips that juicy touch, and that smile of yours so sweet and lustful at the same time.
“I’ve been… busy.”
Bishop met your gaze, then looked at Rue, who was smiling at you, and that’s when Bishop understood. He wasn’t the only one. But perhaps, he had been the first.
“Where’s Alamo?”
“Your breath reeks of pussy. Get yourself a drink.”
Bishop placed two twenty-dollar bills on the table, walking away, leaving Rue alone, frowning, raising her hand to her mouth, exhaling her breath and smelling it, letting out a soft sigh, turning to order a drink from the bartender, handing him the bills Bishop had given her.
She should be more discreet next time.
.˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ⋆.
a/n: esto debe tener unos errores ortográficos catastróficos pero ya fue. me gustó escribir esto
Pairing: Rue Bennett x Reader
Summary: You finally see your ex-girlfriend (who you've been avoiding for a month) at a party. This time, you can't run away.
Themes & Warnings: TENSION, wlw, rue is california sober, did i mention tension??, arguing, ansgty, jealousy, i love rue bennett my crush on her is massive, s1/2 euphoria, SPICY, kinda toxic, resolution!
The party reeked of liquor and perfumed sweat. Glitter swirled in the air, a purple hue falling onto your skin and making you feel like everything was a dream. Another party thrown by the football team - somewhere you wouldn't typically show your face. But your best friend didn't give you a choice this time.
Maddy's manicured hand gripped your arm, yanking you to her side.
"Bitch!" She exclaimed, her other hand thrusting a drink, full to the brim with something startlingly blue, into yours. "Drink. You aren't gonna be miserable tonight."
You stared the liquid down like it had personally offended you. The last thing you needed was to get sloppy drunk and embarrass yourself with how you'd been feeling recently. Depressed. Icky. Lonely, but too stubborn to reach out for company. And angry. You couldn't lie, the idea of taking revenge at a party had been alluring to you before. But now that you were here, it seemed too daring.
It was evident, though, that Maddie had finally had enough.
You took a breath to speak, trying to push the cup away.
"No." She held up a single finger, the acrylic tip painted with glaring red, and pressed it to your lips before you could protest. "I've watched you rot in your bedroom for like, a month. You've left me on read, bailed on that thing with Kat, and you haven't even let Cassie give her annoying mom-hug." Her eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. "So tonight, you are going to drink this disgusting blue shit and have fun. With me."
Madeleine Perez had claimed you as her best friend freshman year without asking permission. She'd decided, correctly, somehow, that your energy was the perfect counterbalance to her whirlwind. She'd towed you into her orbit and never let go. Underneath the razor-sharp eyeliner and the casual cruelty she could weaponize at will, Maddy loved with a ferocity that bordered on terrifying. You were hers, and she took your pain as a personal insult.
You rolled your eyes, taking the cup.
"You know I don't want to be here. I don't want to see her, and-"
"And what?" Maddy cut you off with a sharp laugh. "You're gonna hide forever? You think Rue Bennett is gonna vanish off the face of the earth just because you've been ghosting the entire town?" She tilted her head, earrings swaying. "News flash, babe. She's still here. You just need to show her what she fucked up and lost."
"Maddy," Cassie's voice came from behind you, gentle and warning. She'd materialized without you noticing, Kat trailing in her wake. "Maybe don't."
"What? I'm not saying anything that isn't true." Maddy shrugged, unrepentant. "Rue hangs out with Jules now. She didn't cut herself off from planet Earth. My girl isn't going to either."
The name hit you square in the chest. Jules. Of course. Rue and Jules. Jules and Rue. The new girl with the cotton-candy hair and the artistic laugh and the way of looking at Rue that made you want to throw something. You didn't have the right to be jealous, though.. You'd ignored a plethora of texts from Rue.
In fact, that was exactly why you didn't want to be here. You were throwing yourself to the wolves. Exposing yourself to Rue and waiting for her to pounce.
Your phone had buzzed constantly that first week. You'd read every message through the notification preview, never opening them, never giving her the satisfaction of a read receipt.
can we talk
i know you're pissed just let me explain
please
y/n come on
And then, after three days of silence on your end: i'm sorry.
Then nothing for two weeks. Then, just last Tuesday, a single message at 2:47 AM: i still have your hoodie. the grey one with the paint stain. do you want it back?
You hadn't responded to that one either. But you'd cried for an hour afterward, because that hoodie wasn't just a hoodie. It was the one you'd been wearing the night she first kissed you. The night she'd pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, and whispered, "Is this okay?" like she couldn't quite believe you wanted her.
You'd kept every message. You'd reread them until the words blurred. And you'd never, not once, typed a reply.
You knew, deep down, that Rue didn't deserve one. She couldn't stay clean, she couldn't stop lying, she couldn't stop doing everything she'd sworn she wouldn't. You were angry at her. You were forcing yourself to stay strong. And Maddy was by your side, always.
She plucked the blue drink from your hand and took a sip herself, grimacing. "Ugh. This tastes like battery acid. Why do football players have such terrible taste in everything?"
"They're football players," Kat said flatly. "That's the answer."
Cassie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "Maybe... maybe you should talk to her, though? Not tonight," she added quickly, seeing Maddy's expression. "But eventually. You can't avoid her forever. And she does look really sad."
"Cassie, no," Maddy groaned. "We're not doing the 'she looks sad' thing. Rue is a big girl. She can handle her own feelings."
"I'm just saying! Closure is important. My therapist says-"
"Your therapist also said you should stop dating guys who look like they've never heard of moisturizer, but here we are."
"That's not fair. McKay has great skin."
"And has the emotional depth of a pet rock," Kat muttered.
You let their bickering fade into the background, your eyes drifting across the party against your will. You couldn't help it. Some magnetic, masochistic part of you needed to find her in the crowd.
And you did.
Rue was in the corner, near the speakers, where the purple lights didn't quite reach. She wasn't alone. Jules was beside her, all long legs and ethereal energy, her hair a cotton-candy cloud in the dim room, and some guy you vaguely recognized from your English class was talking animatedly, gesturing with a red solo cup. Rue wasn't listening to him. You could tell by the distant look in her eyes, the way her fingers were absently picking at the sleeve of her hoodie.
But she was watching you.
Those dark eyes, half-lidded and unreadable, were fixed on your face with an intensity that made your stomach clench. Her jaw was tight. Her shoulders were rigid. She looked away the second your gazes met, ducking her head toward Jules like she'd been paying attention all along. But the muscle in her temple was jumping.
"Bitch, are you even listening to me?"
You snapped back to Maddy, who was staring at you with narrowed eyes.
"Sorry. What?"
"I said," Maddy enunciated slowly, "that you need another drink. A stronger one. Because I refuse to let you spiral." She snatched your cup, still mostly full, and dumped it into a nearby potted plant without a shred of remorse. "We're doing shots."
"Maddy-"
"Shots!"
An hour later, you were drunk.
Not tipsy. Not buzzed. Drunk. The kind of drunk where the edges of the room went soft and the music stopped being noise and started being something you felt in your bones. The kind of drunk where Maddy's laughter sounded like wind chimes and Cassie's worried looks stopped registering and Kat's sarcastic commentary became genuinely hilarious.
The kind of drunk where you stopped thinking about Rue.
Mostly.
"She's still looking at you," Kat murmured, appearing at your elbow with a cup of water she'd been trying to push on you for the last ten minutes.
"Who?" You knew exactly who.
"Don't play dumb. Corner. Three o'clock. She's been staring at you since we got here, and honestly, it's getting a little creepy. Like, blink twice if you're being held hostage, Rue."
You didn't look. You refused to look. Instead, you grabbed the water from Kat's hand and took a sip, even though your coordination was shot and a little of it dribbled down your chin.
"Attractive," Kat said dryly, handing you a napkin.
"I'm very attractive. I'm a catch." The words slurred together slightly. "Maddy said so."
Maddy was already materializing beside you, her eyes glittering with a dangerous, scheming light that you recognized all too well.
"Okay," she said, looping her arm through yours. "Don't be mad."
"Why would I be mad? You only say 'don't be mad' when you've done something I'm definitely gonna be mad about."
Maddy grinned, unrepentant. "There's a girl over by the stairs. She's been checking you out all night, and I may have told her you were single and emotionally available."
"You what?"
"Don't freak out. She's cute. Like, really cute. Dark hair, great cheekbones, definitely your type-"
"Maddy, what the fuck!"
"Come," she insisted, steering you through the crowd with surprising strength for someone her size. "You've been moping for a month. A month! And I love you, but you need to get back out there. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Or on top. I don't know your preferences."
"Maddy, stop it." You whined.
But it was too late. You were already face-to-face with the girl from the stairs.
She was cute. Annoyingly cute. Dark hair cropped close on the sides, longer on top, a silver ring glinting in her nose. She had a sharp smile and the kind of confident energy that made your drunk brain short-circuit.
"Hey," she said, her voice low and smooth. "Maddy told me your name, but I want to hear you say it."
Maybe Maddy was right. It was time to explore. After all, you couldn't let all the self-torture be for no reason.
Before you knew it, all of your hesitance flew out the window. A shy, drunk smile spread over your lips as you looked down at your feet, then back up. The girl tilted her head, waiting for you to speak.
"Y/n L/n." You said, holding a manicured hand out for her to take.
"Avery." Her grip was warm and firm, her thumb brushing deliberately over your knuckles before she let go. "Nice to finally meet you. I've seen you around."
"Have you?" Your drunk brain was slow, syrupy, but not so far gone that you missed the way her eyes dropped to your mouth.
"Hard to miss." She leaned a shoulder against the wall, casual, confident. "You're always with Maddy. She's kind of terrifying."
"She's very terrifying," you agreed, glancing back at Maddy, who shot you an exaggerated thumbs up and a mouthed get it, bitch before Kat dragged her away.
And then it was just you and Avery. And the music. And the purple lights. And the two shots of tequila still burning pleasantly in your stomach.
Avery was easy to talk to. She was a senior, she told you, transferred from a school two towns over. She asked about your classes, your taste in music, the book you'd been reading when she spotted you in the library last week. The conversation flowed without effort, lubricated by alcohol and the giddy rush of someone new paying attention to you.
At some point, she'd stepped closer. Close enough that you could smell her perfume - something woodsy, clean. Close enough that her knee brushed yours when she laughed at something you said.
"So," she said, tilting her head, "you're single?"
"Complicatedly single."
"That's the best kind." She grinned. "Complicated means there's a story. I like stories."
"There's definitely a story."
"Tell me?"
You should have said no. You should have changed the subject, asked her about her own stories instead. But the tequila had loosened your tongue, and the words were already spilling out before you could stop them.
"My ex is here." The confession tasted like lime and salt and poor decisions. "She's been staring at me all night. It's... a lot."
She followed your gaze across the room. Rue was still in the corner. Jules had drifted toward the dance floor, leaving Rue alone with her thoughts and her red solo cup and her murderous expression. She was looking at you again - no, not at you. At Avery. The way she was leaning into your space, one hand on the wall beside your head, her body angled toward you like a parenthesis closing around a sentence.
"Rue Bennett," Avery stated simply. "She's your ex?"
"You know her?" The question came out sharper than you intended.
"Everyone knows Rue. Or knows of her, at least." Avery's expression was unreadable. "She's got a reputation. Recovering addict, right? OD'd over the summer?"
Your stomach twisted. Hearing it spoken so casually, so matter-of-fact, made something defensive flare up in your chest. Rue's overdose wasn't gossip. It wasn't a talking point. It was the worst night of your life, the hospital waiting room, the fluorescent lights, the way you'd sobbed into Maddy's shoulder until you couldn't breathe.
"Yeah," you said quietly. "She's been through a lot."
Avery held up her hands. "No judgment. Just repeating what I've heard." She tilted her head, studying you with new interest. "You're still hung up on her."
It wasn't a question.
"I..." You swallowed hard. "It's complicated."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
She hummed, leaning into you. Her lips met your ear with a gentleness that made a warm wave curl down your spine.
"I can help you figure things out."
Your breath caught. The tequila was swimming through your veins, making everything slow and syrupy and unreal. Avery's perfume was dizzying and nothing like Rue's familiar old spice and laundry detergent. Her hand settled on your hip, light, questioning. Providing you with an option if you wanted it.
You didn't pull away.
"Yeah?" Your voice came out breathier than you intended.
"Yeah." She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her sharp smile softening into something more genuine. "No pressure. No expectations. Just... a good time. You look like you could use one."
Maybe she was right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed, something simple, something uncomplicated, something that wasn't wrapped up in overdoses and relapses and 3 AM phone calls that made your heart stop. Avery didn't know you. She didn't know about the hospital waiting room or the unanswered texts or the way you'd cried until your ribs ached. She just saw a girl at a party who looked sad and lonely and in need of a distraction.
And God, you wanted to be distracted.
"I don't usually do this," you admitted, but you didn't step back. Didn't remove her hand from your hip.
"What, talk to attractive strangers at parties?"
"Something like that."
"Then I'm honored." She tilted her head, that dark hair falling across her forehead. "Seriously, though. If you want me to back off, say the word. I'm not here to add to the drama. I just think you're beautiful, and your ex is an idiot for letting you go."
Your drunk brain latched onto that. Your ex is an idiot. Rue was an idiot. Rue had let you go. Rue had chosen pills over you, numbness over you, oblivion over you. And now she was standing in the corner with Jules and her red solo cup, watching you like she had any right to be angry.
Screw her.
"I don't want you to back off," you heard yourself say.
Avery's smile widened. "Good."
She leaned in again. This time, her lips found the corner of your jaw. a barely-there brush that sent sparks skittering across your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut. Your hand came up to grip her shoulder, steadying yourself. The party dissolved around you. the bass, the laughter, the purple lights, until there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth tracing a slow path toward your ear.
"Still okay?" she murmured against your skin.
"Yeah," you breathed. "Still okay."
What you didn't see, what you couldn't see, with your eyes closed and your head tilted back, was Rue.
Rue, who had gone completely rigid in her corner.
Rue, whose knuckles were white around her solo cup.
Rue, whose dark eyes had shifted from murderous to something far more devastating. Something broken. The look of a girl watching the only thing she'd ever truly loved slip through her fingers in real time.
Jules noticed. Of course she noticed. She followed Rue's gaze across the room, took in the scene, Avery's lips on your neck, your hand gripping her shoulder, the way your body curved into hers like a plant seeking sunlight, and her expression flickered with something complicated.
"Rue," Jules said quietly, touching her arm. "Maybe we should go."
"No." Rue's voice was flat. Hollow. "I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I said I'm fine."
But she wasn't fine. She was the opposite of fine. She was burning alive, consumed by a jealousy so potent it felt like poison in her bloodstream. Every rational thought was drowned out by the primal, gut-wrenching need to cross the room and pull you away from that girl. To put her body between yours and Avery's. To tell her, in no uncertain terms, to keep her fucking hands off what didn't belong to her.
Except you didn't belong to Rue anymore. That was the problem.
"Rue," Jules tried again, her grip tightening on her arm. "Don't do anything stupid."
And for a moment, it seemed like Rue would listen. She took a shaky breath. She uncurled her fists. She looked down at her shoes, scuffed Vans, and tried to remember all the things Ali had told her about letting go, about accepting the consequences of her actions, about not letting her emotions rule her.
And then Avery's hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, and something in Rue snapped.
She was moving before she could stop herself. Shaking off Jules' grip. Cutting through the crowd with single-minded determination, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth. She didn't know what she was going to do. Didn't know what she was going to say. All she knew was that she couldn't stand there for one more second watching someone else touch you.
No one could stop her, her seething body carving a path through the crowd like a knife through butter. No one even noticed her.
Besides Avery, in the corner of her eye. She could see Rue's wild curls blowing in the slight air flow, stiff shoulders shifting with her walk.
Her lip quirked up into a smirk, pulling off from your skin.
"Incoming."
Before you could process the word, before the tequila-soaked fog in your brain could catch up to what was happening, a hand closed around your wrist, familiar, calloused, urgent, and yanked you backward. You yelped, turning towards whoever had wrenched you off, but the breath was immediately stolen from your lungs.
Brown eyes. Lidded, but full of so much anger that it made your skin burn where they rested. Desperate, angry, jealous eyes that clearly screamed 'enough is enough.' You couldn't decide whether to swoon or to cry.
Rue's grip on your wrist was iron, her fingers pressed against your pulse point like she was counting the beats. She wasn't looking at Avery at all. She was looking at you, only at you, and the intensity of it made the tequila in your bloodstream feel like nothing. Like you'd never been drunk a day in your life. Like you were seeing everything in horrifying, perfect clarity.
"You're done here," Rue said, and her voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a shout. It was quiet and shaking and absolutely terrifying in its restraint. "You and me. Outside. Now."
"Rue."
"Now, Y/N."
Avery stepped forward, her brow furrowing. "Hey, relax."
"I wasn't talking to you," Rue snorted bitterly, turning slightly towards the girl who had her offensive lips all over you. "So shut the fuck up."
The words landed like a slap. Avery's eyebrows shot up, her calm composure finally cracking. For a moment, she looked like she might fire back, her jaw tightened, her hands curling at her sides, but then she glanced at you. At the way you were staring at Rue. At the way your pulse was fluttering under Rue's fingertips.
She raised her hands, stepping back.
"Will do."
Then, without another word, she sent you an amused glance and walked away.
You were now alone with the only person you didn't want to see. You felt the weight of her stare still, stirring up a storm in your chest.
"Outside." She repeated again, pulling you gently but firmly.
"No, I-"
"Nah," another laugh with absolutely no humor in it. "You're coming the fuck outside."
She was already moving, cutting a path toward the back door. You had no choice but to follow, stumbling slightly, the tequila still sloshing through your system and making everything feel unsteady.
You caught a glimpse of your friends as Rue dragged you past them. Maddy was already stepping forward, her expression darkening, clearly ready to intervene, but Kat grabbed her by the elbow and held her in place. Cassie's hand was pressed to her mouth, her wide blue eyes tracking you like you were a car crash she couldn't look away from.
Traitors, you thought bitterly. All of them.
And then the back door banged open, and the cold night air hit your face like a bucket of water.
The backyard was empty. The same string lights from earlier were still swaying gently in the breeze, casting their dim golden glow over the patchy grass and rusted patio furniture. The music from inside was muffled now, reduced to a distant, rhythmic thump. You could hear your own heartbeat. You could hear Rue's ragged breathing.
She finally released your wrist. She took a few steps away from you, her back turned, both hands coming up to rake through her wild curls. You could see the tension in her shoulders - rigid, practically vibrating -before she spun around to face you.
"What the fuck was that?"
The anger in her voice was a living thing, raw and bleeding. You'd seen Rue angry before, frustrated, annoyed, pissed at the world, but this was different. This was volcanic.
"What was what?" Your own voice came out unsteady, and you hated it.
"Don't." She pointed a shaking finger back toward the house. "Don't play dumb with me right now. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
You crossed your arms over your chest, a flimsy shield. "So what?"
"So what?" Rue laughed, but the sound was jagged and hollow. "So I've been texting you for a month. A whole fucking month. And you couldn't send me a single reply. Not one. I thought you hated me. I thought-" She broke off, swallowing hard. "But you show up here, drunk off your ass, and in five minutes you're about to make out with some random girl against a wall?"
"Her name is Avery, and she's not random. She's a senior. Transferred from two towns over. She smells nice and she thinks I'm beautiful and she's not my ex."
Rue's jaw tightened. "Low blow."
"Truth hurts." You shrugged, the tequila making you bold. "Besides, you're one to talk. You've been glued to Jules all night. She's practically draped over you in that corner. What's that about?"
"Jules is my friend."
"Right. Sure. Just a friend who looks at you like you hung the moon."
"She does not-" Rue stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Wait. Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You're totally jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm just pointing out the hypocrisy. You can spend all night with Jules, but the second someone talks to me, you go full caveman?"
"I didn't go full caveman."
"You literally yanked me away from her and told her to shut the fuck up."
Rue glared. "I wasn't talking to her. I was talking to you for the first time in a fucking month."
The words hit you square in the chest, knocking some of the wind out of your anger. Rue was standing there, her chest heaving, her dark eyes burning with something that wasn't just jealousy anymore. It was hurt. It was a month of silence and unanswered texts and sleepless nights, all bottled up and ready to explode.
"You could've talked to me any time," you said, your voice quieter now. "You could've found me. Cornered me at school. Shown up at my house."
"I did show up at your house. Three times. Your mom said you didn't want to see me."
"Because I didn't."
"Then what was I supposed to do?" Rue threw her hands up. "Break down your door? Kidnap you? I was trying to respect your space. Ali said-" She stopped, shaking her head. "Never mind."
"Ali said what?"
"Ali said I should give you time. That pushing you would only make it worse. If you wanted to talk, you'd come to me." She let out a bitter laugh. "But you didn't come to me. You came here, got stupid drunk, and then let some random girl put her hands all over you."
"Avery-"
"I don't care about Avery!" Rue's voice cracked. "I don't care about her name or where she transferred from or what she smells like. I care about you. I care that you've been ignoring me for a month, and I just can't get you out of my head. And now someone else is-"
She broke off, her jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jumping.
"Someone else is what?" you pressed.
"Touching you, and kissing you, and shit. And you're mine."
The words hung in the cold night air. Possessive. Fierce. Utterly, devastatingly Rue.
"I'm not yours," you said, but your voice came out weaker than you intended. "Not anymore."
"You sure about that?" She stepped closer, and suddenly the air between you felt electric. "Because you haven't pushed me away or told me to leave. You followed me out here, and now you're standing here looking at me."
"Rue."
"Like you want me to kiss you. So, do you?"
Your breath caught. "That's the tequila."
"Is it?" She whispered, looking down at you. "Or is it that you thought you could leave me and forget everything, and you can't?"
The question hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. Rue's eyes were unwavering, dark and searching, like she was trying to see straight through to the parts of you that you'd been hiding for a month.
You exhaled shakily.
"Why couldn't you let me? You know you're bad for me. You're bad for everyone, Rue." You accused, avoiding her eyes. Avoiding falling back in.
The accusation had no effect.
"I know." She didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Her voice was steady, even as her hands trembled at her sides. "I know I'm bad for you. I've known it since the day we met."
"Then why-"
"Because I'm selfish, too. Worst type of person." She stepped closer, and her hand found your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet her eyes. "I'm selfish and I'm fucked up and I'm trying to be better, but I can't-I can't let you go. I tried. I tried to stay away. For a month. And it was the worst month of my life."
You gritted your teeth. Her face, desperate and sorry and intense, peering into yours with the same vibes that you fell in love with in the first place.
"I hate you." You whispered.
"I hate me too. But I love you. And I'm not letting you go."
“It’s not your choice to make. You don’t have the right to pretend it is.”
"Neither do you. Not really. Because if you wanted to leave, you would've done it already. If you wanted me gone, you would've shoved me off the second I grabbed you. But you didn't. You're still here. And I think it's because you hate me, yeah, but you love me more."
"Shut up."
She refused to, her firm hand still on your jaw.
"I'm clean. Thirty-four days clean," She said, her voice firm. Honest, for once. "I go to all my meetings and shit. Drug test any time Leslie says so."
Your eyes, glistening with a thin layer of gathering tears, analyzed her face for any sign of dishonesty, and for all signs of the truth. You sniffled, one tear dropping without your permission.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Her voice was firm. Unwavering. The voice of a woman on a mission to get the only thing she'd ever wanted back. "Not a long time, but it's the longest I've gone since I was, like, fourteen. Think about you more than the drugs. In a way," she laughed bitterly, wiping a tear from your cheek, "you leaving my ass is what kept me clean."
"That's not-" Your voice cracked. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking." Her thumb swept across your cheekbone, catching another tear before it could fall. "All I can think about is you and how to make you come back. Don't give a fuck about drugs."
"That's too much pressure, Rue. I can't be the thing that keeps you sober. That's not fair."
"I know." She didn't look away. Didn't blink. "Ali says the same thing. Says I can't put my recovery on another person. Says I have to want it for myself or it won't stick." She exhaled shakily. "And I do. Want it for myself, I mean. Most days. But on the bad days - on the days when everything feels like shit and the meetings aren't helping and my brain won't shut up-on those days, I think about you. And it helps."
"Rue."
"I'm not saying you have to take me back. I'm not saying you're responsible for me. I'm just saying.." She swallowed hard. "I'm just saying you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And losing you was the worst thing. And I'd rather be clean and miserable than high and dead. Because at least if I'm clean, there's a chance."
The tears were falling freely now, yours and hers, mingling in the cold night air. Rue's hand was still on your jaw, her thumb still tracing back and forth across your cheekbone. She was trembling.
You laughed through a sniffle.
"I can't stand you. You can never stay away and let me heal."
"Let you heal?" Rue's voice was barely a whisper. "Let you move on and forget me? Maybe meet someone who doesn't come with a mile-long list of problems?"
"Yes. All of that."
"I tried." She admitted.
"It was supposed to be a clean break. That's why I didn't answer your texts or come to the hospital. I knew if I saw you, if I heard your voice, I'd cave. And I couldn't cave anymore, its killing both of us."
"But you're caving now."
"Because you grabbed me!" You shoved weakly at her chest, but there was no force behind it. "You couldn't just let me flirt with a pretty girl in peace. You had to storm over and go all caveman and remind me exactly why I fell for you in the first place."
"Was it the caveman thing?" A ghost of a smirk. "Because I can do that more often."
"Don't you dare."
"Kidding. Mostly." Her smirk faded, replaced by something softer. "If you tell me to leave, I'll go. I won't bother you anymore.. probably. I'll try. Again."
You stared at her. At the sharp jaw and the messy curls and the dark eyes that were still glistening. She meant it. You could see it in her face, the way she was bracing herself, preparing for rejection. She'd walk away if you asked her to. She'd actually do it.
And you realized, with terrifying clarity, that you didn't want her to.
"That's the problem," you whispered. "I don't want you to leave. I never wanted you to leave. I just wanted you to stop."
"Using."
"Breaking my heart."
"I know." She pressed her forehead against yours. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll be sorry for the rest of my life. But I'm clean and I'm really trying. And I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to."
"Stay."
"Yeah?"
"Stay. One more time." You fisted your hands in the front of her hoodie. "But you're on thin ice, Bennett."
"I know."
"And you're not allowed to relapse."
"I know."
"And you have to stop chewing on your hoodie strings. It's disgusting."
With a snort and a mumble that sounded like disagreement, she laced her fingers through yours and tugged you toward the side gate. "Come on. I'll make tea. Leslie bought that weird herbal stuff you like."
"You hate that tea."
"I'll drink it anyway. For you."
"That's... disgustingly romantic."
"I'm a disgustingly romantic person."
"You told a girl to shut the fuck up like twenty minutes ago."
"She had her hands and crusty ass lips on my girlfriend."
"I'm not your girlfriend yet."
Rue stopped walking and turned to look at you, her eyebrow arched.
"You're coming home with me, you told me to stay, and I actually never admitted to anyone that we broke up." She ticked the points off on her fingers. "I'm pretty sure you're my girlfriend."
"I'm your tentative girlfriend."
"Tentative girlfriend." She tested the words, a slow grin spreading across her face. "I'll take it. Seal it with a kiss?" She quirked an eyebrow, her hands reaching out again to cup your face.
She was close before you even realized it, her nose brushing yours.
"You're so-"
"Charming? Romantic? The love of your life?"
"Annoying. I was going to say annoying."
"That too." Her thumb traced your cheekbone, feather-light. "So? Do I get to seal it or what?"
You should have made her wait. Should have made her work for it. But she was standing there with her messy curls and her stupid smirk and her thirty-four day chip heavy in her pocket, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.
"Fine," you breathed. "One kiss."
"One kiss," she agreed.
She leaned in. Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost tentative, like she was giving you one last chance to change your mind. When you didn't pull away, she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding from your jaw into your hair, tilting your head back. A small sound escaped your throat, and you felt her smile against your mouth.
"Missed that sound," she murmured.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
So you did. You kissed her again, harder this time, your fingers twisting in the front of her hoodie, your hoodie, and pulling her closer. She made a surprised noise, then melted into it, one hand dropping to your waist, the other still tangled in your hair. The streetlight flickered overhead. The cold nipped at your cheeks. But Rue was warm, and solid, and here, and that was all that mattered.
The door flew open. You yanked yourselves apart, eyes wide.
Maddy, a manicured hand on her waist and knowing eyes dissecting the situation. Her glossy lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts triumphant and terrifying.
"I knew it," she announced, loud enough for the whole block to hear. "I fucking knew it. Cassie owes me twenty dollars."
"Maddy." You pleaded.
"Don't." She held up a single finger, the acrylic tip glittering under the porch light. "Don't even try to explain. Rue had her tongue down your throat and you look pathetically guilty. You're back together."
"Tentatively," you muttered.
"Tentatively my ass. You're standing in the backyard at midnight making out like the world's ending. I'm not stupid."
You were silenced immediately, a sheepish smile on your face.
"And you." She turned her razor-sharp gaze on Rue. "Fuck up again and I'll key your car. I love you, but I love my bitch more."
"Noted," Rue said, her voice impressively steady for someone facing down Maddy Perez in full protective-friend mode. "But.. I don't have a car."
Maddy's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Then I'll key your face."
"That's... not how keying works."
"Try me, Bennett." She stepped forward, jabbing a manicured finger toward Rue's chest. "I will find a way. I'm very creative."
"I know you are." Rue's voice was steady, but you could feel her hand trembling slightly in yours. "And I'm not gonna give you a reason to get creative. I swear."
Maddy stared at her for a long, tense moment. The backyard was silent except for the distant thump of bass from inside and the rustle of the string lights swaying in the breeze. Then, slowly, her expression shifted. The sharp edges softened, just a fraction, just enough.
"I'm happy for you guys. If you're happy," She said, smiling a little. Then, she waved a manicured hand. "Now, go fuck or something."
With that, she disappeared back through the back door, flicking her hair over her shoulder - the sign of a job well done by Maddy Perez. The night air got a little chillier, a little darker.
You stood there for a moment, stunned into silence, the ghost of Maddy's exit still hanging in the air.
"Did she just.." Rue started.
"Give us her blessing? I think so."
"In the most Maddy way possible."
"Is there any other way?"
Rue laughed, that real laugh, bright and surprised and still a little shaky around the edges. "I guess not." She turned to you, her dark eyes softening. "So. What now? We take her suggestion, or we go drink tea?" She smirked.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "She said go fuck, Rue."
