Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Becca trails soft kisses along the older girl’s jawline. Her chubby cheeks were no longer apparent. There was barely a trace of her childhood friend in all honesty. This alluring woman underneath her replaced the little Freenky she knew and missed.

How she longed for their reunion.

How she longed to take her into her arms again.

She wanted her best friend back.

No- she wanted ‘her’ Freen back.

It didn’t take her too long to realize that she wanted more than just rekindling an old friendship.

“Becbec…” Freen lets out a breathy moan.

Becca frowns at the old nickname before looking up from Freen’s neck with a smirk. “I’m no longer your little Becbec, Freen.” The finger that was teasing Freen’s clit slowly went down before being engulfed in the already wet folds.

Becca’s ears were soon greeted with moans of pleasure. Louder and louder as her finger, and later, fingers go faster and faster.

Freen belongs to her in the four corners of this bedroom, at least, for this moment. Consequences be damned. Will they still be friends after this? Lovers perhaps? She doesn’t know, and for now, she doesn’t care.

All she cares about is her thirst quenched and her longing temporarily satiated. But most importantly, the doe-like eyes she loves the most are looking at her with a need beyond friendship.

xXXXx

Becca was nervous. It had been years since she returned to her childhood home. To say that she didn’t miss the place was a lie. From the pizza place they used to frequent, to the mall they visited as a family every weekend. She had missed it all. But that’s not why she’s feeling jittery.

She looked up at the imposing building right in front of her. This was not the first school she’d be transferring to. She had been jumping schools ever since she stepped into 7th grade. Compared to those, she should have gotten used to the feeling by now. But being her introverted self, she always felt out of place. 

Despite the few friendships she made throughout the years, she always seemed to wear a mask. She kept them close, but not too close. Except for her first-ever best friend, she will always be the exception. The best friend she lost touch with after moving and is probably still mad at her because of it.

Becca shakes her head at the thought before adjusting her glasses. Now’s not the time to reminisce. She’s supposed to be in the teacher’s office before classes start. Not knowing where to begin, she asks a random student for directions. After a few twists and turns and a slight detour from being lost, she manages to find her destination.

“Excuses me, is Mrs. Callas here?” She inquired to what looked like the secretary of the faculty.

“Name please?”

“Rebecca Patricia Armstrong”

“She’s expecting you, just turn left from this door. She’s at the third cubicle on your right.”

“Thanks”

She followed the directions and found the correct cubicle. Inside, a woman in her mid-30s was chatting on the telephone. “Yes, that would be great. I’ll make sure to help her get settled.” She looked up at Becca, smiled, and gestured for her to sit down.

Becca gives her a tight-lipped smile before settling down on one of the two seats in front of her desk. Mrs. Callas then wraps up her phone call after a minute or two. “Ms. Armstrong?”

Becca nods, “The principal told me to head to your office on the first day.” 

“Ah yes, the new girl. What should I call you? Rebecca? Patricia?” 

“Just Becca is fine.”

Mrs. Callas smiles, “Becca it is. How are you settling down? Did you manage to explore the school yet?” She opens her drawer to get a folder before opening it.

“I’m afraid not Ma’am. My mother and I just moved back yesterday. I unfortunately haven’t had the chance to familiarize myself with the school yet.”

“Not a problem! Irin?” Mrs. Callas raises her voice slightly. A moment later, a girl who looks the same age as Becca stands at the doorway of the cubicle. “There you are, can you please give our new student a school tour? Help her get settled in as well.”

“Of course, Mrs. Callas” Irin smiles at Becca before raising her hand for a handshake. “I’m Irin, as you’ve already heard.” “Becca, nice to meet you.” Becca reciprocates the handshake. “Here’s your schedule, Becca. If you need anything, feel free to ask me or Irin.” Mrs. Callas hands her a piece of paper with a timetable. “You’ll also be able to view them on your student portal.” 

“Thank you.” Becca takes the paper and gives it a quick skim. “Ready for your next class?” Irin asks, glancing over her shoulder at her schedule. “I think we’ll be in the same classes most of the time, except for PE. I can give you a tour of the school during our breaks if you’d like. But, we better get going now, our Algebra teacher’s not fond of late-comers.”

Becca nodded and mumbled a thank you to Mrs. Callas before following Irin to their first period.

Heading to her new classroom was a breeze. With Irin as her guide, they managed to navigate the twists and turns of the school without much ceremony.

“Here we are.” Irin stops right outside a classroom. “Do you want to sit together? I can help you acquaint with our classmates that way.” “I would highly appreciate it.” Becca shoots her a smile. They made their way to their seats with Irin sitting near the back of the classroom and beside the windows. Becca then takes the chair directly to her right. A guy sitting in front of Irin turns to them, “Hey Irin, who’s your friend?”

“Nop this is Becca, she just transferred here. Becca this is Nop, my BFF since forever.” 

“So Becca, where are you from?” Nop places his arms on top of his chair before leaning towards Becca’s direction. “My mom and I move frequently. We were originally from here but had to move frequently because of her business.”

They continued making small talk with Irin introducing some classmates to Becca now and then. “That’s Jamie. He’s the leader and bassist of the school band, essentially a music club in our school. I’m also the drummer of the band.” Irin smiles proudly.

Becca gaped at her. “No way, I’ve always wanted to try playing with a band.” “You should! What instruments do you play? Maybe I can get you in for auditions.”

“I play the guitar, but I can sing too. I write my songs sometimes.” Now it’s Irin’s turn to stare at her in awe. “You’re the whole package. You should let me hear some of your stuff.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the teacher going into the classroom and signaling for them to keep quiet. Introductions were briefly made along with the coursework for the semester. Before they knew it, the teacher was already dismissing them.

“I think we’ll have a pretty chill day.” Nop stretches as he stands up from his desk. “Please don’t jinx it, we better get a move on before the next class shows up.” Irin swings her backpack over her shoulder.

Becca lets herself be dragged by her newfound friends outside the classroom. Maybe this school won’t be so bad after all. She follows Irin’s lead until they halt outside a laboratory. 

“Eugh, Chemistry. My least favorite subject.” Nop groans. “But Mr. Sanchez is your favorite teacher.” Iirn raises a brow. “I think it’s worth the offset.” “Mr. Sanchez?” Becca asks confused upon seeing a blush adorn Nop’s cheeks.

“Nop’s gay for him. I mean he IS hot but not really my type.” Irin shrugs before making her way inside their second classroom for the day.

Becca follows suit but not before feeling a bump from one of the students chasing each other in the hallway and into a girl standing by the door’s entrance. “Sorry.” She mumbles an apology as she steadies herself against the door frame, failing to notice the silence engulfing the hallway. Before Becca realized what was happening, she was pushed up against the wall. 

A fuming girl with brown stains down her shirt, presumably coffee, grips the scruff of her collar. “For someone with four eyes, I didn’t know you could be so blind.” The girl holding her against the wall mutters in a low voice filled with venom. “Not now, Friend. The teacher’s already coming.” One of her companions mumbles before piping down after a glare from the furious girl. She then pours the rest of the coffee on Becca’s head before throwing the empty cup to the side.The girl now known as Friend smirks at her before covering her stained shirt with her letterman jacket. “I’ll be seeing you around, classmate.” She gives one final shove on Becca’s shoulder before heading inside the lab with her posse.

Meanwhile, Becca stood frozen, even as the hallway activity returned to normal. She can barely register the voices of Irin and Nop as they try to give her words of comfort. “I’m fine.” She manages to smile at them. “You guys head right in, I’ll wash up and follow.” She didn’t give them a chance to reply before she bolted down the hallway and into the nearest bathroom.

She darts in just as a student exits, then locks the door behind her, ensuring no one is left inside to hear her cry. They’d probably be heading to their classes anyway. She lets out a shaky breath before sliding down against the door and hugging her knees. ‘It’s like one bully for each year in high school.’ She grimly thought as tears prickled her eyes. She hides her coffee-stained head in her arms before biting down a sob.

Suddenly, the sound of a toilet flushing came from the last stall, causing Becca to freeze. She immediately stands up before making her way to the sink. ‘Act normal Becca, just breath.’ And breath she did, or at least tried to as she fumbled with the water tap. From the corner of her eye, Becca sees a girl emerge from the last stall, wearing a similar letterman jacket to the one Friend was wearing earlier. Becca gulped, ‘Don’t make eye contact Becca. Don’t make eye contact.’ She recites the mantra over and over in her head.

It wasn’t until the girl was beside her that she caught a familiar floral scent “Becbec…?” The girl from the next sink softly spoke.

Becca’s eyes immediately shot up to meet familiar doe-like eyes staring at her from the mirror. “Freenky?” She manages to let out the old nickname.

Chapter Text

Becca transferred her umbrella from one hand to the next. They’ve been standing in the cemetery even after the other guests left. Despite the growing tiredness of her arms, however, she decides to stay. If only for this moment. “Freen, it’s time to go.” Freen’s father, Uncle Phat, rested his hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

Becca hears a quiet sniffle, “I don’t want to go.”

“I know you want to be with Mom for a while longer. But it’s getting dark, and we have to leave. We’ll return first thing tomorrow.” Uncle Phat pauses, “And you still have to say goodbye to Becca.”

Becca grips her umbrella, trying to swallow the tightness in her throat. She hates having to leave, but the thought of adding to Freen’s pain is even worse. After a few more minutes of coaxing and words of comfort, Uncle Phat finally managed to lead them out of the cemetery. “So, this is goodbye.” Becca nods looking at Freen’s tear-stained eyes before giving a mournful smile. “Let’s keep in touch okay?” She opens her arms to invite Freen into a hug which the other girl accepts.

Freen buries her face into her neck before choking out a sob, “I’ll miss you so much.”

Becca breathes in deeply, taking in her floral scent and committing it to memory. “ I’ll miss you too Freenky.”

xXXXx

She stares dumbfounded at the girl in front of her. It’s as if she’s staring at someone familiar, but at the same time, a stranger. Aside from the obvious height difference, the girl in front of her exuded confidence and dominance. It’s not that her childhood best friend didn’t have any confidence at all, rather, it was… different. Had it not been for the use of her old nickname, she wouldn’t have recognized her at first glance.

“You came back,” Freen murmured. She furrowed her eyebrows, her gaze shifting to Becca’s wet hair and the coffee stains on her clothes. Becca brushes her damp hair away from her face, “Just a coffee incident down the hallway. I’d hug you if I weren’t drenched.” Freen nods before smiling. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Let’s get you dried off first.” She makes her way to a wall-mounted tissue case by the sinks. “Take off your clothes.”

Becca blinks, “I’m sorry. What…?”

Freen takes some tissues before making her way back to her. “Or you can just take off your top. I don’t think your pants are as soaked.” Becca grips on the edge of her shirt subconsciously. “Yes, but you don’t have to do this. You’re going to be late.” “It’s the first day Bec, I don’t think we’ll miss something important.” Freen raises a brow before crossing her arms. “Or would you rather parade around the school bathed with coffee?” Becca breathes out shakily before finally giving in with a nod.

“Great. Let’s rinse your head first.” Freen places the dry tissues on the counter before turning on the sink. “Lean in.” Becca removes her glasses before bending over the counter until she feels running water on her head. Not long after, she feels slender fingers on her scalp as her former best friend washes out the caffeine off her locks.

Becca closes her eyes, feeling the gentle stroke of fingers through her hair, sometimes traveling to her nape. She suppresses a shiver as she feels Freen’s hand rub the areas around her neck. “Don’t move. Let me dry this off.” She hears the water tap turn off before feeling dry tissue paper against the skin of her neck.

“Thanks.” Becca straightens but not before squeezing out the remaining wetness of her hair. “Now, take off your shirt.” Becca looks at her with hesitation to which Freen rolls her eyes. “We’ve been bathing together since we were in our diapers Bec. And I have breasts too. Do you have a bra?” 

“Well… yes.”

“Then there’s no problem, just cover your chest with your shirt or something.” She stares at Freen briefly before succumbing and taking off her stained shirt. Becca averts her gaze, feeling eyes examining her body, until she hears Freen clear her throat and switch on the faucet. “Turn around.”

She follows the older girl’s instruction before quivering at the wetness of the tissue paper behind her back. “When did you get back?” Freen asks. “Only since yesterday.” Becca responds before mumbling, “I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.” The hand behind her back pauses, “I should be apologizing. I had a lot going on the past few years and… it wasn’t the same with you plus the distance.” Freen resumes her wiping. “But it doesn’t matter, you’re here now.”

“Yeah…” Becca nods, a sad smile gracing her face. “You’ve got a toned back. Do you work out?” She lets out a sigh of relief thankful for the topic change. “Yes, I do kickboxing occasionally.” Freen hums, tossing the wet tissues into the garbage and then grabbing dry ones. “We’re having cheerleading auditions. Are you interested?” She chuckles, “I wasn’t a born dancer.” “Well, the offer’s always open.” Freen finishes wiping her back dry before saying, “Turn around.”

“I can do the front myself,” Becca replies turning around, her face growing hot. The girl in front of her smirks amused, “Okay then.” Becca then dampened some tissues before rubbing the stains that had seeped onto the skin on her front torso, while trying to ignore the eyes staring fixedly at her. She throws in the wet tissues before wiping herself dry.

“You can borrow my shirt, I doubt you’d want to soak yourself again wearing that.” Freen gestures to her wet top while rummaging from her duffel bag and tossing her a jersey t-shirt. "Here, it’s a bit loose, but it should fit you." Becca mutters a soft ‘thank you’ before putting it on, ‘It smells like you.’

“Looks like we’re done here.” Freen zips up her bag before putting it over her shoulder. “Give me your phone.” Becca puts on her glasses before taking her phone out and placing it on Freen’s waiting hand. “I’m giving you my number. Let’s catch up sometime.” She says as her hands quickly move across the phone screen.

She nods in response, “We should. Want to get pizza at Johnny’s?” Freen gives her back her phone before taking hers out and handing it to Becca. “Johnny’s it is.” She enters her number into the older girl’s phone, saves it, and hands the device back to her. Freen pockets her phone, opens her arms, and smiles gently. “You owe me a hug.”

Becca beams before enveloping her friend in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you too.” Freen mumbles before giving her a tight squeeze. They stayed in the same position for a while before Freen loosened her hold with the other girl. “We have to go. Classes are still ongoing.” “Y-yes, we should.” Becca clears her throat. “So what’s your class?”

“Chemistry. Just down the hall.” Freen unlocks the bathroom door before opening it. Becca follows her out into the now-empty hallway. “With Mr. Sanchez?” 

“The very same. I take it you’re in the same class?” Freen looks at her amused. Becca felt a spark of excitement and fought to suppress the grin threatening to break out. “Yes, I’m so glad we’re at least classmates.”

“And I’m glad I’d be seeing more of you.” Freen stops at the now-closed laboratory doors before turning to her. “Ready?” Becca gives a quick nod before Freen enters the lab and follows suit.

“Hello there ladies, I do remember our classes starting at 9 sharp and not 9:15” A man who appears to be in his 30s asks in a light-hearted tone. “Won’t happen again Mr. Sanchez, sorry.” Freen heads to her seat, while Becca walks over to join Irin and Nop, trying not to be conscious of her classmates' stares.

It wasn’t long before she took her seat before Irin whispered, “Where were you?” “In the bathroom washing up, why?” Becca raises her brows, gesturing to her wet hair as if it were obvious.

“What are you doing with Freen’s shirt?” Irin continues her interrogation. 

“Um, she let me borrow it…?”

Becca looks at Irin confused while the latter stares at her as if she has grown two heads. “She just let you ‘borrow’ it? Did she help you wash up too?”

“Yes…? Is something wrong?” Becca replies, uncertain about the direction of the ‘interrogation’.

“Becca, you just told her the ‘queen bee’ helped you wash up, and you’re practically wearing her shirt right now. Hell might as well freeze over,” Nop adds. She frowns. “Queen bee?” 

“Queen bee, ice queen, diva. Whatever you want to call her. All I can say is, stay away from her Becca. I know we just met and you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, but Sarocha is bad news.” Irin continues to warn her, “And she’s best friends with that girl who dumped her coffee on you earlier.”

‘So she’s my replacement huh?’ She glances at Freen before shifting her gaze to her seatmate. It’s none other than the girl who showered her with caffeine earlier. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine, remembering the years of bullying she’d experienced from similar girls and even boys like her. 

Her eyes were then met with Freen’s doe-like ones before the latter gave her a short wave. She raises a hand slightly, returning it with hesitation. Her head blurs out the noise both from her classmates and her teacher. Her mind is still processing the information Irin and Nop shared with her.

“...this project will last throughout the semester and shall be done in pairs, assigned by me. Now, when I call your names, you can take your seats with your partners immediately.” Mr. Sanchez continues with his course briefing before opening up his ledger and pairing up the class.

“Rebecca Patricia Armstrong and Freen Sarocha Chankimha. Seat together, please.”

Becca rises from her seat slowly before transferring to an empty desk, the seat beside her immediately occupied by Freen. “Together again, Becbec?”

She smiles trying to alleviate her uneasiness. “Yes, together again.”

Chapter Text

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Becca reaches up blindly to her phone before turning off the alarm.

The first few days of classes went by quickly. Despite being introverted, Becca settled in easily with the help of Irin and Nop. Although she found herself closer to Irin because of their love for music, she also felt that her friendship with Nop came easily with his extroverted and friendly personality.

Irin also secured an audition for her to the school’s music club, which Becca looks forward to today. Even as a child, she has always wanted to be a singer. She joined a few bands during her schooling abroad but couldn’t continue long-term because she was transferred from one school to the next.

A notification sound comes from her phone causing her to reach for it to find a new message.

-Good morning BB :) 

‘BB?’ She stares at the message confused before looking at the sender. ‘Freen?’

-What’s with the ‘BB’ Freenky?

-It’s a shortcut for Becbec :) I’m sorry we couldn’t hang out—cheerleading practice and need to sort out the auditions too. So, Johnny’s this Saturday? We can do a sleepover too if you’re up for it.

-Np! I’ll audition today for band btw :) Excited and nervous at the same time. I’ll add Johnny’s and the sleepover to my Saturday sched then!

-Break a leg BB. I know you can do it. Just say the word if they won’t let you join. I’ll take care of it :) 

Becca blinks at the text and quickly remembers the info she got from Irin and Nop. Despite not witnessing Freen as the ‘queen bee’ they claim her to be, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

-No worries Freenky, less responsibility and more free time for me if I don’t get in haha. Plus, we can hang out more if I don’t always have band practice

-And I can always go to your performances if the band takes you in :) best of both worlds. Btw, I talked with Friend. I apologize on her behalf for the coffee incident. I told her to stop bothering you already but if she does, don’t hesitate to talk to me. She can get pretty temperamental and hot-headed. 

-Sure. No harm done :)

-Anyway, I should prep for school. See you around :) 

Becca types a quick reply before setting aside her phone and curling onto her side. ‘Of course she’d have new friends Becca, what do you expect?’ She grabs the white jersey shirt Freen lent her a few days ago before burying her face against it and inhaling deeply. Despite washing the shirt a few days ago, it still retains the hint of jasmine scent from its owner. 

Despite being in the same school, they barely saw each other except in one or two classes where they were classmates and lunch hour. Even then, she didn’t want to impose on her new friend group made up of cheerleaders and her new BFF, who frequently shot her glares now and then.

She pushes herself out of bed, drags herself to the bathroom, and starts to prepare for the school day ahead. After a quick shower and donning a comfortable white shirt and jeans, she makes her way down, carrying her guitar. A note from her mom and an egg sandwich was waiting for her on the dining table, saying not to wait for her later at dinner due to an urgent meeting.

She quickly eats her breakfast before heading to her beige Porsche and placing her instrument in the backseat. She then heads to the front seat and secures her seatbelt before driving to school. Normally, she would have taken the bus, but her strong attachment to her guitar, a gift from her dad, led her to take her car instead.

The drive to school went smoothly, and before she knew it, she found herself a parking spot. Since band auditions are scheduled after classes, she can leave her instrument in her vehicle without hauling it around the campus.

She quickly exits the car, draping her backpack over her right shoulder and carrying some music sheets in her left hand. She was about to make her way onto the school premises when a familiar figure leaning against a car parked opposite her looked in her direction.

Becca instantly freezes. It’s Friend Torfan. “Look who we have here” The girl slowly walks over to her like a tiger circling its prey. “It’s Freen’s ‘pet’.” Becca grips the sling of her backpack before averting her eyes to the side. “What do you want?” She asks in a low voice. “Listen four-eyes, you may be Freen’s diaper friend or whatever, but I’m still the one she had on her side when shit went down for her.”

Friend then takes hold of Becca's chin before forcing her to make eye contact. “All I’m saying is that you should know your place. She’s too good to be involved with a nobody like you.” The other girl says softly before faking a smile and letting go, leaving Becca in the parking lot.

It wasn’t until moments later that she finally breathed out and proceeded to her first class. She'll have to let out some steam later, maybe a few laps running around the park or a few rounds of kickboxing, preferably with Torfan’s face on it. She considers telling Freen but doesn't want the other girl to choose between two friendships. Particularly if that someone stood by her when Becca wasn’t there.‘We can always hang out without her other petty best friend then.’

Classes went by without a hitch, and before she knew it, it was already the end of their last period. “So, ready for the audition?” Irin shoots her an excited grin. “As ready as I can be,” Becca replies with a slight smile. “Let me just get my guitar.” “Want me to accompany you?” She shakes her head, “It’s fine. It won’t take me long.”

Becca bids a temporary goodbye to Irin before heading outside the school building to grab her guitar. It wasn’t long before she was nearing her car that she heard some angry voices from a few cars parked away from her. She groans, ‘I don’t want to get into more drama.’ She quickly unlocks the doors and heads to the backseat to get her instrument.

“And what do you expect me to do? Just ditch the team to go on dates?? You know it doesn’t work that way Freen! And you can’t just flirt with anyone, you have a fucking boyfriend!” Becca stops midway from closing the car doors. “Me? Have a boyfriend?? I didn’t even receive a single text or call from that ‘boyfriend’ all summer so I don’t know what you’re getting at Billy.”

She hears an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m not saying you abandon anything for our relationship. But can you at least let me know you’re still breathing? I know you’ve been in basketball camp all summer but you can’t just ghost your girlfriend!”

Becca feels a tightness in her chest and stays rooted on the spot. She’s unsure if she should proceed and ignore this conversation or stay in for a few minutes more to listen. ‘So she already has a boyfriend.’ It didn’t even cross her mind for Freen to have a lover. Although thinking about it, it would be damn near impossible for someone like Freen to not have one.

“Or is this your way of breaking up with me?” “You KNOW that’s not what I’m suggesting, Freen.” The male voice now known as ‘Billy’ exhales dejectedly. “Look I think we need to step back a bit. Clear our heads. We’re both too angry to have this conversation.” There was silence for a few moments, “Yes, you’re right.” She hears Freen mumble quietly.

“I love you.” “...I love you too.” Becca hears a car start before driving off the parking lot. She was just about to close her car door when she saw Freen walk by her parking spot, looking as equally surprised to see her. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to hear. You were so loud and I was just getting my guitar.”

Freen doesn’t move from her spot before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay. We should’ve talked somewhere private anyway.” She trails her gaze towards the instrument before mustering a smile. “Good luck with auditions Becbec.” Becca nods before clearing her throat. “So I’ll see you at the pizza place tomorrow?”

“Yes, and don’t forget the sleepover at my place. We can head there right after.” Becca gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Can’t wait.” She then clears her throat before closing her car door. “I still have band auditions so I’d better get going.” Freen gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Good luck. Tell me how it goes.”

Becca swallows the lump in her throat before going to the auditorium where Irin and her bandmates are. She has the sudden urge to vomit although she might just be nervous due to stage fright. Or maybe it’s because of Freen. Maybe she was upset with how her boyfriend was treating her. She has always been protective of her best friend since they were little. Despite being the younger one.

Before she knew it, she was already standing before her destination. Becca pushes aside any thoughts of Freen for a moment to focus. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding before going in and seeing some auditionees already in the middle of their performances. She spots Irin in the front row with some students she recognizes from her classes and a teacher who she assumes is the music director of the school band.

Becca settles down in one of the auditorium seats and starts going through her performance as she waits for her turn. Auditionees were tasked to perform two songs with a maximum time of 10 minutes. One song is chosen by the band and another song which the auditionees will decide to perform. It didn’t take long for her name to finally be called and before she knew it, she was already on the stage.

The music director smiles at her before giving her the go signal starting with the band’s song choice. Becca adjusts the mic to her height before strumming the intro notes of Weak by SWV.

I don't know what it is that you've done to me

But it's caused me to act in such a crazy way

Whatever it is that you do when you do what you're doing

It's a feeling that I want to stay

'Cause my heart starts beating triple time

With thoughts of loving you on my mind

I can't figure out just what to do

When the cause and cure is you

A flash of a gummy smile crosses her mind as she tries to lose herself in the song’s emotions. 

I get so weak in the knees, I can hardly speak

I lose all control and something takes over me

In a daze and it's so amazing

It's not a phase, I want you to stay with me

By my side, I swallow my pride

Your love is so sweet

It knocks me right off of my feet

Can't explain why your lovin' makes me weak

Her fingers switch over the chords just as easily her strums are timed to every beat of the song. What happens next catches her off guard as a male voice suddenly sings the second verse.

Time after time, after time I try to fight it

But your love is strong, it keeps on holding on

Resistance is down when you're around, cries fading

In my condition, I don't want to be alone

A boy with dirty blonde hair stands to her right, holding the mic as he sings. She remembers that he’s one of Irin’s bandmates, although she can’t quite place his name.

'Cause my heart starts beating triple time

With thoughts of loving you on my mind

I can't figure out just what to do

When the cause and cure is you, ohh

‘He’s a good singer.’ Despite the impromptu performance, she didn’t stop strumming to the song’s beat. 

I get so weak in the knees, I can hardly speak

I lose all control and something takes over me

In a daze and it's so amazing

It's not a phase (It's not), I want you to stay with me

By my side, I swallow my pride

Your love is so sweet

It knocks me right off of my feet

Can't explain why your lovin' makes me weak

He winks at her before nodding. Taking it as a cue to sing the bridge, she moves her face closer to the mic again.

I try hard to fight it

No way can I deny it

Your love's so sweet

Knocks me off my feet

Becca moves to the final part of the song to which he sings along with her. His voice blended in with hers easily.

I get so weak in the knees, I can hardly speak

I lose all control and something takes over me

In a daze and it's so amazing

It's not a phase, I want you to stay with me

By my side, I swallow my pride

Your love is so sweet

It knocks me right off of my feet

Can't explain why your lovin' makes me weak

Becca shifted her gaze to the boy as they sang the last part together, only to see him smiling cheekily at her. ‘Good job,’ he mouths to her before she hears applause echoing around the auditorium. She nods politely before chuckling as Irin rushes from her seat and stops under the stage.

“It’s final, they want you, Becca. WE want you in the band. You don’t even have to perform the second song, or you can but that will just be a formality at this point.” Irin says in a hushed but excited tone as Becca blushes. “I’ll still perform it. It wouldn’t be fair to the other auditionees.” “Goody two shoes.” Irin rolls her eyes teasingly. “Oh, before I forget. Becca, this is Jamie. Jamie this is Becca. I’ve mentioned him to you at some point but I’m glad you both have officially met!”

The boy beside Becca raises an arm for her to shake, “James Foster, but people just call me Jamie.” He smiles at her as she reciprocates the handshake. “Rebecca Armstrong. But you can call me Becca.” She replies courteously.

“So Becca, want to go out on a date?”

Chapter Text

Becca keeps gazing up at her bedroom ceiling for a little while longer. To say that she doesn’t feel overwhelmed by yesterday’s events is an understatement. After her first performance, Becca decides to perform her second song, Style by Taylor Swift, despite Irin’s insistence. “I don’t want any special treatment Irin.” She remembers saying to her friend.

Their band, The Mavericks, decided to hold auditions after one of their singers graduated from high school. Although they’re also playing for the school they can do gigs outside of school premises since they were already an independent band. To be honest, Becca didn’t even expect to get in easily.

She considers texting Freen the good news but they’ll meet up soon anyway and she’d rather celebrate in person. Becca smiles at the thought before deciding to get up and pack up her things for the sleepover. It would be their first time hanging out since they moved back, and while she was looking forward to their reunion, a part of her felt nervous.

‘What if we’re just too different and we’d no longer be friends? What if she gets bored with me? And even worse, what if Friend just put her up to it and this is all just a dare to make fun of me?’ Becca sighs pushing her overthinking thoughts aside. ‘At least she’s happy with her new friends… And probably her boyfriend.’

She looks back to their exchanges in the parking lot. At least the bits and pieces she managed to hear. ‘I’ll just ask Freen if she brings it up.’ She shrugs dropping the thought process. ‘I don’t think it’s any of my business anyway.’

Becca packs the last of her sleepover essentials, zipping up her duffel bag immediately afterward. She browses her wardrobe for something to wear, settling on a black tank top and wide-legged jeans.

She leaves the house after sending a quick text to Freen letting her know she’s on her way to the pizzeria. It was a ten-minute bus ride before she finally arrived at Johnny’s, the pizza place she, her family, and Freen would often visit when she was still a kid.

The building's brick facade looks the same as she remembers it. A familiar neon sign saying ‘Open’ glows by the double glass doors. Looking inside through the window, she sees the same booths of a red table and black leather benches.

She makes her way in and sits down in one of the booths. It’s still 5 in the afternoon, so there weren’t as many patrons as during the rush hours of lunch or dinner. She browses the menu contemplating what she’s going to order when she feels arms circle her midsection and pull her into a hug.

“You’re here!” Freen exclaims. “Have you been waiting long?” Becca chuckles. “I just got here, like, 5 minutes ago.” The other girl lets go of her and then looks her up and down with a smirk. “You look different.” “Maybe because I didn’t wear my glasses?” Freen shrugs and turns towards the menu, “That must be it. You look beautiful either way.”

Becca blushes at the compliment, deciding to focus on every detail of the menu instead. After a few moments of discussion about what pizza, meal, and dipping sauces to order, they managed to call in the waiter before setting aside the menus to wait.

“Sooo…” Freen crosses her legs and leans her head on her hand supported by the table. “Tell me what’s going on with you Bec? How’s Aunt Rahwee?” “Mom’s the same as always. She’s not around as much though. I mostly have the house to myself.” Becca replies. “Does that mean frequent sleepovers for us?” Freen jokes to which Becca chuckles in reply. “If you want to. We still live in the same address so you won’t have trouble finding it.”

A waiter drops by their table and sets down two paper placemats, two glasses of water, and their utensils. “By the way, you had band auditions yesterday, right? How’d it go?” Freen asks. Becca beams at her, “Brilliant. I made it into the band. I can join in with their practice every Tuesday and Thursday. But that depends on whether there's a band competition over the weekend; if so, we'd practice all week long.” Freen looks at her, eyes filled with admiration, “I always knew you could do it.”

“Also…” Becca trails off before reaching for her glass of water. “Someone asked me out from band yesterday.” The silence lingered even after she finished drinking from the glass and set it back on the table. Oblivious to the icy atmosphere, she looks at Freen to see if she heard her, then freezes in place. She isn’t sure why she feels nervous, as if she just confessed something she shouldn’t have.

Freen keeps her gaze fixed on her, eyes sharp and unblinking, “Who?” “J-Jamie.” “And you said ‘yes’? “I said I’ll think about it.” "You’ll think about it? Why didn’t you reject him? Do you like him?" the other girl asks, pressing further. Becca exhales, "I just met him, so I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, though."

Freen rolls her eyes, “You should’ve just rejected him, I heard some things about that Jamie and he’s a go-getter.” Freen pauses before sighing. “I’m sorry. I just felt a bit overprotective. You’re like my younger sister Bec. But thank you for telling me this. If you want to go out with him, it’s your choice.”

Becca smiles a tight-lipped smile and changes the subject, “Of course. By the way, how’s Uncle Phat?” “He remarried shortly after mom died,” Freen answers curtly. “Funny how he managed to move on that easily.” “O-oh, I’m sorry.” The other girl shakes her head, “Don’t be. He moved with his new wife so I’m also always by myself. Except when Billy comes over.” 

“Oh, the boyfriend.” A waiter comes over to their table, placing the food they ordered. “Enjoy your meal, ma’am.” They both said a quick thanks as he set down a few servings of pizza and pasta. “So I take it Billy’s your boyfriend? How long have you been together?” Becca takes a bite of a pepperoni slice, a classic and her favorite.

“Since the first year of high school,” Freen mutters, then continues, “He confessed at prom, and we became prom king and queen and the year after that too." A notification from Freen’s phone lights up her screen causing her to frown. She then grabs her phone and sets it on silent mode before placing it face-down on the table. “Speak of the devil.”

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” “I’m not ready to talk to him yet.” Freen continues eating her meal. “How about you? Got someone?” Becca laughs shaking her head, “No, I mostly kept to myself. I should probably start opening up more though. I don’t want to look back ten to twenty years later and say I should’ve done this or that.” Freen nods, “Understandable. But no harm in being cautious either.” 

Both girls continued eating their meals while reminiscing about the events that had happened while they were apart. Before they realized it, it was already a quarter to eight when they left the pizzeria. They got into Freen’s black BMW, and the older girl drove them to her place. “Wanna watch a movie?” Freen asks the younger girl. Becca nods, “Sure, want to watch horror?” Freen grimaces, “Anything but that.”

Becca cocks her head to the side smirking, “The ‘ice queen’ is scared of horror movies? I couldn’t imagine.” Freen turns red, “Ice queen? Who told you that?” Becca shakes her head “Don’t change the subject.” Freen sighs, “Fine I’m scared of horror movies. Or ghosts. That’s why I have Friend sleep over sometimes.”

"I see. Well, if you want, you can always sleep at my place. Mom’s mostly not around anyway, and it’s just me." Freen raises a brow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “It’s like we’re living together.” Becca feels a flutter in her chest at the suggestion, a warmth creeping up her neck, but she tries to brush it off. “I wouldn’t mind,” she says softly, offering a small smile in return, though something about Freen’s gaze makes her heart skip a beat.

The drive to Freen’s place was silent. Becca focuses on the window, her pulse quickening as unfamiliar sensations stir within her. The evening street lamps served as a form of metronome for her to time her breathing.

“We’re here.” Freen’s voice jostles Becca out of her reverie. Right outside the car window is the house she considers her second home. She gets out of the convertible with her duffle bag and follows her friend inside. “Home sweet home.” Freen hangs her car keys on the key holders by the door and removes her jacket.

Becca runs a hand along the beige walls of the foyer as if transported back in time. “I’ll wash up for a bit. You can pick a movie for us to watch.”

“Got it,” she replies, heading to the living room. She walks over to the glass case beneath the flat-screen TV, where the Blu-ray discs are stored. After a few minutes of deliberating the selection of movies, she finally narrows it down to It and Princess Diaries.

Becca hears the soft shuffle of footsteps as Freen walks into the living room. “Picked one yet?” Becca looks up, her breath catching, her eyes grazing over the exposed skin not covered by Freen’s black camisole. She tries shifting her gaze downward and swallows hard, trying not to look at the flesh her best friend’s very short shorts can barely cover.

Freen flops on the couch with some blankets and pillows. “The bath’s yours by the way. I hung your towel on the rack. I’ll prepare some food for the movie.” Becca nods wordlessly, leaving the two movies she picked on the coffee table. She walks over to her duffel bag and pulls out her change of clothes. She needs a shower, a very cold shower.

Scrambling up the stairs, she manages to slip through the bathroom door and exhale the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Becca slips out of her garments and turns on the shower, setting it cold. She steadies her breathing briefly as she slides under the cold water, ignoring the aching feeling between her legs.

She lets the shower water run down her body for a few seconds, ‘Get a grip on your hormones, Becca; Freen is like your sister. Stop thinking about her like that.’ She clears her head for a minute or two and begins washing herself. She rinses and wipes herself soon before wearing a white sweater and shorts.

“I thought you drowned up there.” Freen jokes as she makes a space for Becca to sit on. ‘You have no idea.’ “So I decided to flip a coin between It and Princess Diaries. Tails for It and vice versa.” Freen holds up a coin. “Ready.” Becca nods as the other girl tosses the coin in the air and flips it on her hand. “Tails.” She groans.

“Clown horror it is.” Becca muses as she surveys the choice of condiments for their movie marathon. “You brought alcohol?” Freen shrugs, “I want to unwind. Plus, it’ll help me have fewer clown nightmares once the night ends. You drinking?” Becca shakes her head. “I’ll just keep watch over you. Make sure you don’t trip over the stairs or something.”

Freen looks at her for a moment. “But you do drink right?” “Haven’t tried it yet.” Freen nods before opening up a beer bottle and handing it to her. “Just one sip. I can drink the rest if you want.” Becca looks at the open bottle and holds its base with hesitation. She places the rim against her lips and takes a small sip.

She scrunches her brows and hands the bottle back to Freen, “Tastes like piss.” Freen chuckles pinching her cheeks. “You’re such a baby Becbec.” Becca frowns. ‘I’m not a baby.’ They start the movie without further ceremony, with Freen consuming most of the bottled alcohol by half of the movie.

Becca mostly keeps her eyes glued to the screen, her arms frequently squished into Freen’s chest when a jumpscare occurs. The breath of the other girl frequently brushed her pulse as she hid her face in Becca’s neck. ‘Doesn’t she wear a bra??’ Becca thought exasperatedly, feeling a little regret that she didn’t relieve her arousal earlier in the shower.

By the time the movie ended, Freen was out of commission and could barely lift herself off the couch. Becca places a steady hand on Freen’s waist before putting the older girl’s arm around her. “Watch your step.” She warns her when they are about to walk up the stairs. Freen giggles and looks down at her feet causing them to stop midway. “I’m looking at my steps~”

After a few sways and detours from Freen’s drunken stupor, they finally arrived in her bedroom. 

Becca sighs in relief as she tucks Freen in under the comforter. “Becbec…” Freen whines reaching up her arms to the other girl. “Don’t leave Freenky.” Becca chuckles at her friend’s drunken antics, settling down under the comforter beside her.

Freen scoots closer, wrapping her arms around Becca with a sigh. “I missed you so much, my Becbec.” Becca smiles, “I missed you too Freenky.”

They hold each other for a moment, relaxing in the warmth of the embrace. Freen tilts her head up to Becca, looking at her with a hazy but soft gaze that sends the other girl’s pulse racing. ‘So vulnerable.’ “An angel…” Freen slurs reaching up a hand to touch Becca’s face, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

Becca freezes, feeling Freen’s fingertips linger on her cheek before cupping her face into a caress. She can feel her breath quickening and her heart pounding against her chest as she meets Freen’s gaze. It’s as if everything blurs into the background, leaving the two of them in their little bubble. An unexpected and intoxicating closeness Becca didn’t expect to find both of them in.

Freen’s eyes drop to Becca’s lips, and before she realizes what is happening, Freen closes the gap by leaning in. Their lips softly met, and Becca felt a rush – as if she had just learned to breathe properly for the first time. 

Freen nips on her bottom lip earning a moan from the other girl before shifting her weight so she was straddling Becca. She begins to move her hips grinding causing both of their cores to rub despite the thin fabric of their shorts. “F-Freen…” Becca moans into her lip, her mind clouded as the girl on top of her inserts her tongue into her mouth, causing their appendages to fight for dominance.

Suddenly, the grinding on top of her ceases. Becca opens her dazed eyes to find Freen’s head slumped beside her, sound asleep. She looks up at the ceiling, trying to steady her racing heart, which pounded in her chest. Her core wet from their earlier ministrations.

Carefully, she rearranges Freen’s body to make her more comfortable before settling down under the cover herself. She tries to sleep trying to calm her racing mind about the implications of what just happened. And of a burning desire ablaze on her chest that she is now starting to recognize.

Chapter Text

-You left without saying goodbye?

-Had some errands to run. I got you some chicken noodle soup tho. It’s in the fridge.

-Oh… ty. Sorry for getting drunk haha I must’ve weighed a ton when you carried me

-No biggie. I work out remember?

-Yea, you do look good in tank tops ;)

-You flatter me. Hey, I g2g now. Have to drive somewhere

-Okay, see you at school BB

Becca looks at their texts. ‘Does she remember?’ She sighs before plopping her phone beside her in bed. She picks up one of her stuffed animals, which she sometimes uses as a makeshift pillow, and hugs it tightly. She lets her mind drift aimlessly as she stares into space. Her earlier excuse to her best friend about an ‘errand’ mainly consists of her mulling over last night’s events.

For now, she has to distance herself, to think clearly so to speak. She wouldn’t be able to do that if Freen were beside her, breathing down her neck, literally. Becca touches her lips, her thoughts meandering to Freen’s soft plump ones. She remembers the softness of her tongue as it gently caressed Becca’s lower lip, seeking entrance—one which Becca gave to her in the heat of the moment. Though the kiss tasted of alcohol, it was still the sweetest thing she had ever savored.

‘She’s a good kisser.’ She blushes burying her face against the toy. ‘And that was my first.’ While she knows she lacks experience in kisses and sex, she knows her body enjoyed whatever it was they did. ‘How do two women even do it…?’ She wonders, now a genuine curiosity forming in her head.

Grabbing her phone she did some quick searches and browsed through some videos. She went through some normal vanilla intercourses to extreme ones with kinks like BDSM. Her eyes fixated on a clip where one woman gets all tied up with a gag and the other fucks her with a dildo. Her mouth unconsciously waters, imagining Freen in a similar position, restrained and gagged, writhing below her. She quickly erases the thought as it comes, and then closes the videos. ‘What are you doing Becca? Freen has a boyfriend. And we’re both friends.’

She covers her eyes, trying to forget what she just saw and the images her mind conjured up. Becca knows that, on some level, she's attracted to Freen. The night before only intensified her feelings.‘When did it even start?’ She tries to rack her brain to remember when exactly she started thinking of Freen that way. Perhaps she's just getting used to the change Freen has undergone since they last saw each other. It could be infatuation or merely a physical attraction, and maybe it's all temporary.

‘Maybe it’ll all pass. I HOPE it will all pass.’ Becca swallows hard. Because in case it doesn’t, she doesn’t know how she’d be able to bear seeing Freen with someone else. And she knows, that despite not having experienced being in love before, it will be another whole can of worms for her if these feelings continue. Or god forbid, grow stronger. Even possible, the end of her and Freen’s friendship.

 She groans turning to her side, ‘What did you do to me, Sarocha?’

xXXXx

Before Becca knew it, it was already Monday morning. She tries to calm her racing heart as they make their way to Chemistry class. To say that she’s not prepared to face Freen is an understatement. ‘I should’ve called in sick.’

“You okay Becca? You look pale.” Irin turns to her just as they’re about to enter the class. “Y-yes, maybe it’s just something I ate for breakfast.” Becca musters a smile as Irin touches her forehead feeling her temperature. “Don’t push it okay? We can drop you off at the clinic if you’re sick.” She nods in reply feeling a pair of eyes looking at her from her table. “It’s okay, nothing big I can’t handle.” 

Becca shifts her eyes to the floor as she goes to her seat, feeling the stare following her as she does so. "Good morning to you too," Freen says as the other girl plops her things down at the end of her side of the table.

"Morning," she replies, her gaze going anywhere but toward the girl beside her.

Freen leans back in her seat, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on Becca. “Are you sick?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Then why was Irin touching your forehead?” 

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. She said I looked a little pale that’s all.”

Becca jumped as she felt a palm press on her forehead and neck. “You do feel a bit hot,” Freen mutters as she presses her other hand to her neck to compare their temperatures. “I said I’m fine Freen.” She sighs exasperatedly removing Freen’s hand.

Freen looks at her, a contemplating look on her face, “…Are you sure you’re okay?” Becca hesitates, ‘Yes, Freen, we nearly fucked each other the other night. Everything’s peachy!’ She turns towards the other girl and smiles reassuringly. “It’s… it’s more of a ‘me’ thing. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Her best friend raises a brow at her, not quite believing her words. “Fine, I won’t pry with whatever your ‘me’ thing is. But I’m always going to be here for you okay?” Becca nods breathing a sigh of relief. She shifts her focus to the class. ‘Looks like she doesn’t remember, that’s a good thing.’ she reassures herself, ignoring a small pang of disappointment.

xXXXx

Jamie strums a few key high notes before dropping the beat “Aaand, first band practice is a wrap!”

Becca hums the last few parts of the melody, feeling a pat on her back, “Good job.” Jane, their guitarist, smiles at her. “You too!” Becca returns with a grin, still feeling the buzz of energy from their earlier practice session. Having her head shift to something she enjoys temporarily sets her mind at ease.

“So here’s the deal, we’ve got a performance the next two weeks at a high school party. We won’t be playing for the entire thing since a DJ will be handling the music, but it could be a nice opportunity for Becca before we do band competitions, give her a chance to ease into it.” Jamie looks at each of them for confirmation. “Are you all good?”

“I’m fine with it, should we do band practice every day until then?” Gale, their keyboardist, asks. “Preferably, but I don’t want it to get in the way of schoolwork either. We can make do on weekends” Jamie suggests. There were mumbles of agreement at his suggestion as he nodded satisfied, “All right, dismissed!”

“Your first gig!” Irin squeals silently, coming over to her. Becca chuckles removing the strap of her guitar around her shoulder, “It’ll be my first time performing to be honest, except for auditions of course.” Becca unzips her guitar bag, placing her precious instrument inside, careful not to suddenly drop it due to her clumsiness.

“So Becca, thought about our date yet?” Becca looks up to see Jamie, with a crooked smile on his face. “Oh… that.” Becca ponders. Should she? Appearance-wise Jamie’s pretty handsome. He’s one of the hottest guys in school (in Irin’s words, not hers). And they both love music. Logically speaking, he’s an ideal candidate to be Becca’s boyfriend, if they ever reach that stage.

Becca nods slowly as she plasters a smile, “Sure, when and where?” The boy beams looking like he has won the lottery, “After band practice this Saturday? It’ll be a surprise.” 

“Saturday it is.”

They bid goodbye to each of their bandmates while Becca and Irin go off to meet with Nop in the library. “I can’t believe you’re going out with Jamie!” Becca shrugs, “It would be rude to refuse him, considering we’re bandmates.” ‘Plus, it’s a good distraction.’ Becca’s thoughts drift to Freen before putting the image of her at the back of her mind.

“No, seriously Becca, you both look good together. It’s like the main character meets the girl next door type of story except you’re both in a musical.” Irin winks. “Ohh, and Sarocha can be the antagonist.” “We’re not together Irin. I only want to explore new things and push myself beyond my comfort zone.”  Becca rolls her eyes at her friend’s imagination. “And I usually shy away from dates, so I might as well take an opportunity for once.” 

The two friends went quiet as they entered the library, avoiding the risk of irritating the librarian. “You check the third floor for Nop, I’ll check the second one,” Irin whispers. She nods going up the stairs while Irin proceeds to her floor.

Compared to the open atmosphere of the second floor, which was mostly filled with students studying or sleeping in carrel desks, the third floor compensates with maze-like shelves and some private study rooms.

‘Not gonna lie, I’d probably hide out here from bullies if not for Irin and Nop.’ Becca shivers at the memories of her middle school years. She quickly goes through the shelves, keeping track of the areas she’s already been to avoid getting lost. She’s at least thankful there were only a few students which made her search a bit easier. 

‘These books look ancient.’ She runs a hand over some leather-bound books as the smell of dust irritates her nose. She sneezes unable to hold it back before freezing hearing a moan from a shelf not too far from her. Becca sighs, ‘I can see why this place would be perfect for a makeout session.’ 

She moves slightly back, trying to see the patterns of the shelves so she can avoid the couple and walk past them without them noticing her. “B-Billy…” Becca stops in her tracks hearing the familiar voice of the person she’s trying to get her head out of. Unconsciously, as if her feet have minds of their own, she makes her way quietly to the sounds of pleasure just stopping at a shelf that separates them.

She can see two figures pressed against a shelf through an opening between the books. Long fingers ran a hand through the boy’s already tousled hair while he continued devouring her neck. Her other hand gripping the back of his shirt to keep herself standing as she closes her eyes in pleasure. 

Becca stays rooted in the spot not daring to look away, staring at Freen’s features despite the hammering in her chest. Her breath quickened with each passing moment, her chest tightening as though a heavy hand was pressing down on her heart, twisting her lungs until they burned for air. 

Suddenly, Billy moves up from his girlfriend’s neck before consuming her lips, the lips she had kissed just a few nights before. She continues her blank gaze at the couple, feeling a part of herself slip away, replaced by something foreign that no longer belonged to her.

She turns her head away, willing her body to remove herself from the suffocating atmosphere she placed herself in. Becca quickly made her way down the stairs just in time to see Irin and Nop emerge from one of the shelves on the second floor.

“There you are, Becca. Thank god you didn’t get lost up there.” Irin chuckles, linking her arms with Becca’s, unaware of her friend’s inner turmoil. “Let’s just get out of here,” Becca says softly, gripping her guitar bag as if it were her lifeline, grounding her from being swallowed underground. “I’m not feeling so well.”

Irin turns to her friend, sensing a shift in her mood although deciding not to press her for answers. The three of them step out of the library and into the cool fading light of the evening.

Chapter Text

Becca was rarely jealous. It had been very apparent since she was a kid. She had no jealousy toward the other girls with their shimmering dresses or elegant dolls. Nor did she envy teenagers in middle school with their new mobile phones despite not receiving one until she was 15. The mere thought of 'I wish I had what he had’ and all its other forms never once crossed her mind.

Until now.

The punching bag swung back and forth, its heavy, cylindrical body responding to every heavy strike. A forceful jab sent it rocking more violently, the motion ripping through the bag in waves. Becca’s breath came in sharp bursts as she continued her assault, each punch more powerful than the last. Her body moved with practiced precision, her focus unwavering as she let the force of her frustration pour into each strike.

‘Jealous? Why would I be jealous?’

A jab.

‘He’s her boyfriend.’

Her fists tighten, and she follows up with a cross. The bag groans under the force.

‘They can do whatever the fuck they want for all I care.’

A quick hook to the side, her body twisting with the motion as sweat flew from her brow. For her, every punch is a release, a desperate outlet for the unreasonable anger boiling inside her. She delivers one last punch to the bag before sighing and leaning her forehead against it. She stayed in that position for several more minutes, calming her breath, when a notification from her phone released her from her stupor.

She walks over to it and sees a message from an unknown number.

-Thanks again for saying yes Becca :) See you this Saturday. This is Jamie btw. Got your number from Irin.

‘Oh, that.’ 

The date completely slipped off her mind.

-No prob! Looking forward to it :)

Becca lets out a sigh. Heading out with Jamie suddenly feels like the perfect distraction.

xXXXx

“Sooo, ready for your date?” Irin winks at her as they start packing up from their band practice.

Becca nods, smiling, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They began rehearsing from 2 until 6, but for Becca, the four hours felt less than an hour. ‘Time moves fast when you’re enjoying something, I guess.’

“I swear Jamie, this better be a perfect first date for Becca.” Irin turns to him with crossed arms.

“Ohh, so I’m your first?" He gives off a smug smile, leaning towards her winking. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Irin rolls her eyes before dragging the rest of their bandmates outside the makeshift music studio, aka Jamie’s garage. “Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Becca looks at Irin practically dragging their bandmates out with amusement as the latter turns to her and mouths, ‘Use protection.’ causing her to turn red. “Shall we go? I can drive us there.” Jamie approaches her, offering her his hand to take.

She nods, clasping her hands with his as he leads her to his car. ‘He has big hands.’ Becca thought absent-mindedly. ‘But they’re not hers.’  Becca shakes her head at the thought, chastising herself in the process. ‘Focus, Becca, you’re not supposed to think about her, remember?’

Jamie opens the car door for her, helping her in before going to the other side himself. “Oh, before I forget,” he grabs something from the backseat and hands her a bouquet of red roses. “For you.”

Becca turns red, flattered, accepting the bouquet. “Thank you. I love roses, despite their cliché.” Jamie nods, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Glad you’re a rose person then. I'll take note of that.”

As Jamie pulled out of the driveway, the rhythmic purr of the car engine set a relaxed tone for the ride. Becca gazed out the window, watching the cityscape transition from glowing skyscrapers to cozy neighborhoods bathed in the warm hues of sunset.

Jamie fiddled with the stereo, soft jazz spilling from the speakers. “This okay?” He asked, glancing towards her.

Becca smiled. “Perfect. Didn’t think you were for a jazz guy, though.”

Jamie smirks, easing the car onto a quieter road. “And tonight’s venue might just surprise you.”

Intrigued, Becca tilted her head. “Venue? You’re not taking me to some underground fight club, right?”

Jamie laughed, “Not quite. You’ll see.”

Jamie slowed as they turned into a gravel parking lot, and Becca’s eyes widened. Surrounded by trees stood a charming, rustic café with an open patio. Lanterns hung from the branches overhead, casting a golden light across the space. A small stage sat at one end, draped in fairy lights, with a microphone stand and a couple of guitars leaning against the wall.

Becca’s gaze darted to the sign at the entrance: Grillby's—Open Mic Thursdays & Saturdays.

“An open mic night?," she asks, her curiosity piqued.

Jamie grinned, stepped out, and walked around the car to open her door. “Thought it might be fun. Music, delicious food, and maybe even a little magic.”

Becca stepped out, clutching the bouquet he’d given her earlier, and took in the lively atmosphere. A few patrons were scattered at candlelit tables, sipping coffee or wine, while the faint murmur of a singer warming up drifted from the stage. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee, mingled with the subtle spice of something delicious being cooked inside.

“This is amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed.

“Glad you think so,” Jamie gestured toward the stage. “I figured since you love music, this’ll be the perfect place.”

As they walked to their table near the corner of the patio, Becca felt the prickling sensation of being watched. Looking around to determine the source, her eyes landed on Freen’s doe-like ones, fixed intently on her across the lawn.

Becca looks at the other girl surprised, a knot tightening in her stomach. The weight of Freen’s stare felt like a slow burn, cold and unwavering. She has curtailed her interactions with Freen throughout the week, opting to respond less to her texts and excusing herself whenever the other tries to initiate a conversation. Today, she’s feeling the repercussions as sharp eyes follow her every move, like a hawk waiting for its prey.

Freen’s eyes go down her body, along the skin exposed by her cropped tank top, to her legs that her skirt barely covers, frowning at her outfit of choice. Becca clears her throat before pulling her pink cardigan closer as if to act as a shield from the older girl’s piercing gaze.

Alongside Freen were a few other students, most of whom Becca recognized as part of the cheerleading squad. They sat in a tight-knit group, laughing and chatting loudly, their energy radiating in sharp contrast to the quiet of the café. And of course, Friend was among them.

They settled into their seats, facing the stage, which placed them directly across from Freen’s group. As Becca sat down, Jamie leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Here’s the twist. They let anyone sign up to perform. You ever thought about taking the mic?” 

The suggestion hung in the air, but Becca barely registered it. Her skin prickled with unease as Freen’s icy stare burned into her from across the lawn. Without thinking, Becca instinctively leaned away from Jamie, her body recoiling as if trying to put some distance between herself and her date.

Becca laughed, trying to ease her unease. “Not tonight. I’m content to stay in the audience for now.”

“Fair enough,” Jamie replied, smiling. “But let me know if you change your mind after a few drinks. You’ve got the vibe for it.”

Becca raises a brow, “They serve alcohol here?”

“Just the usual wines, beers, and some cocktails. They’re still primarily a café though.”

Becca nods, taking the menu from their table and browsing. They soon placed their order as performers came and went from the stage close to them.

Jamie glances toward Freen’s table and turns to Becca, “Does it bother you that they’re here?”

“Why would it?”

“Freen’s kinda giving us the death stare, and you’re acting nervous. Is she bothering you?”

Becca frowns, “No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

Her date shrugs, “No reason; you seem like the type that she’d make life miserable in school. Please don’t get the wrong idea, but Freen has a jealous streak; you either join her circle as a loyal follower or risk being ostracized simply for outshining her in looks.”

Becca looks at him incredulously “Is this your way of telling me I’m pretty?”

He smirks, “That obvious?”

The waiter arrives with their food and drinks before excusing themselves as soon as it’s served. “You don’t find Freen pretty?” Becca clasps at her utensils before starting to eat her food. Jamie leans back thoughtfully before saying, “She is, but I’d much rather take you out on a date. She’s not exactly what I’d call girlfriend material.”

Becca stares at him curiously, “Meaning?”

“You know she has a boyfriend, right?”

“Yes…?”

"Well, rumor says she’s not exactly the loyal type in relationships."

She furrows her brows in confusion, “Are you saying she sleeps around?”

Jamie raises his arms, "Look, they’re just rumors, but it’s not exactly the type of relationship I’m searching for. I still believe there’s some form of truth in it.”

Becca’s expression falters, her mind drifting back to their mini sleepover and Freen’s lingering touches and kisses—gestures that suddenly feel strangely hollow. “She does that with just anyone?” she asks quietly, her voice wavering despite her best effort to keep it steady. Her fingers curl around her utensils, her gaze fixed on her plate as the faint sting of tears threatens, though she blinks them away before they can betray her.

“Who knows?” Jamie makes a dismissive motion. “If it makes her happy, let her do it. Not our problem, right?”

Becca stayed quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on her plate as she traced the edges of the crumbs, lost in thought. She nods slowly, but the gesture feels more like a reflex than agreement. “Yeah, you’re right,” she murmurs, her voice almost too soft. “Not our problem.”

“Anyway, enough about her. What about you?” Jamie raises a hand to wipe the sauce smudged near her lip, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Becca blinks, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in attention. She offers a small smile, trying to push the nagging feelings aside. "I guess... I guess I could use something to drink." She gestures toward the bar, and Jamie nods, motioning for the waitress.

When the drinks arrive, Becca eyes them with mild curiosity. Jamie grins, handing her a cocktail. “Try it. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Becca hesitates before taking a cautious sip, the sharpness of the alcohol surprising her. She swallows, blinking at the taste, and then laughs a little. “Okay, that’s... different.” Jamie chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction, before suggesting a few more drinks.

As the evening wore on, Becca started to relax, the alcohol easing the tension that had been building in her chest. By the time the open mic night begins, she’s a little tipsy, feeling lighter and less self-conscious than usual.

Jamie leans in, his voice low. “You should sign up. You’ve got a great voice.”

Becca’s heart skips a beat, her initial reaction to recoil quickly squashed by the buzz of liquid courage running through her veins. "You think so?" she asks, her voice quieter than intended.

He gives her an encouraging look. “Definitely. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

She bites her lip. But then, before she can talk out of it, the host calls for the next performer, and Becca finds herself standing, almost without realizing it, as the microphone is handed to her.

She takes a deep breath, her palms sweaty as the stage lights hit her, casting her in a spotlight. The crowd blurs around her, nerves creeping up, but she starts strumming the guitar softly. The first few chords of Sabrina Carpenter’s "Please Please Please" feel comforting and familiar as her fingers glide over the strings

As the music flows, and for a moment, the weight of everything—Freen, the rumors, her confusion—fades away, replaced by the song that feels almost like a release.

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way

A quiet anger stirs in Becca as she sings. She forces herself to look at Freen again—this time, the older girl is smiling with her friends, an air of superiority about her. The sight tightens Becca’s jaw, but she keeps her voice steady. 

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

A deep breath, a quiet exhale—she shifts her posture, standing a little taller as her confidence grows.

I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy

Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight

I tell them it's just your culture and everyone rolls their eyes

Yeah, I know

All I'm asking, baby

She can feel the eyes of the room on her, but Freen’s gaze locks with hers again, and it’s almost as if Becca is singing just for her. Becca's voice gains strength; the anger she’s been suppressing starts to bleed as she sings the words. Her grip on the mic tightens, and she lets her eyes flick towards her childhood friend again. The other girl holds eye contact as Becca gets lost in her orbs.

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

And please, pleasе, please

Don't bring me to tеars when I just did my makeup so nice

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please

She remembers the kiss she witnessed in the library, Freen’s face twisting in pleasure. Despite the pain, she also felt... fascination. Becca’s voice is no longer tentative—it’s bold and commanding, with a tinge of sultriness. Maybe it’s her frustration, the alcohol, or the mix of both. Freen looks away this time, unable to maintain the stare. Becca’s lips curl into a faint smirk, her eyes flashing.

Well, I have a fun idea, babe, maybe just stay inside 

I know you're cravin' some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice

And we could live so happily if no one knows that you're with me

I'm just kidding, but really, really, really

She’s no longer as nervous or unsure. She gazes at Freen, her expression steady and resolute, without the slightest trace of the usual uncertainty that would normally exude. She steps away from the mic, letting the moment hang in the air for a second before singing the last chorus.

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

And please, please, please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please

Becca’s voice takes on a mocking edge, taunting. There’s a trace of a smile on her lips, but it’s a knowing, almost bitter one.

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

Please, please, please

Becca steps back from the mic, the last note hanging in the air before it fades into the applause. Her heart pounds in her chest, but there’s a weight lifting off her shoulders as if the song has freed her from something she’s been carrying for too long. Her eyes, still locked with Freen’s, don't falter as the crowd’s cheers swell around her. 

Her gaze is steady and unwavering, and Freen knows she’s not the same person who walked into the café. The moment passes, and she slowly turns, her legs shaky.

As she reaches the bottom step, she’s met by Jamie, who grins. “Damn, that was amazing,” he says, his voice full of admiration. He places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Becca lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, a smile tugging at her lips. “I... I didn’t know I had it in me.”

Jamie snorts, “It’s like you’re a different person up there. Guess we’re letting you drink for every performance, huh?”

She chuckles her voice a little breathless. “Thanks, Jamie. I needed that. More than I thought.”

Jamie smiles, “I’m always gonna be here for you, Becca.”

They continue walking towards his car, her steps automatic, her mind drifting back to the moment on stage—how Freen’s eyes flickered towards her. She longs to forget it and craves to feel something new, but the ache in her chest remains. The emptiness that doesn’t vanish just because she’s done something bold.

"Thanks, Jamie," she says again, her voice quiet. "I don't think I could've done it without you here."

Jamie’s eyes soften, and for a moment, his playful tone shifts into something more sincere. “You’re amazing, Becca. I knew it the first time I saw you.”

Jamie steps closer, and she doesn’t move. He leans in, his hand gently resting on the car door beside her.

She’s still frozen, caught in the weight of her thoughts. And then, without warning, his lips meet hers.

The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, but as he pulls her closer, the moment drags her out of her head, if only for a second. But it doesn’t feel like it should. It doesn’t feel like the kind of kiss that makes everything else disappear. It doesn’t erase Freen’s touch or how her heart still seems to beat for someone who doesn’t want her. It doesn’t fix what’s broken.

Becca tries to respond, her hands finding his chest, but it’s almost like she’s watching herself, disconnected from the sensation, too caught up in what she can’t have. Jamie’s kiss deepens, and there’s warmth there, a kind of tenderness she knows she should appreciate, but it feels distant, like a memory she’s trying to reach.

When they pull apart, Becca’s chest is tight. Her breath is shallow, and her mind is still somewhere else. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Jamie murmurs.

Becca forces a smile, but it’s fragile, a faint echo of something she’s unsure she can give. "Me too," she says quietly, just above a whisper. It’s as though that kiss could somehow fix what’s broken inside her, but it doesn’t. It can’t.

Jamie leans in again, but this time, Becca hesitates. She steps back, just a little, pressing her fingers against his lips.

“Guess we’re calling it a night?” she says, her voice a little too casual, the weight in her chest still heavy. She’s unclear if she’s trying to push him away or protecting herself.

Jamie looks at her, confused, but he nods, not pressing. “Yeah. I think this night’s done. But you were incredible, Becca. You’re gonna do great things, besides the band, of course.”

Becca nods, though the weight in her chest lingers. She slides into the car, the door shutting with a quiet thud, oblivious to the doe-like eyes that had never stopped watching them since she stepped off the stage.

Chapter Text

“You’re doing it wrong. Didn’t you pay attention to the instructions??”

An exasperated sigh, “You’re messing this up, Becca.”

The words stung more than they should have. Freen’s tone wasn’t just annoyed—it was biting, almost impatient, like she was expecting Becca to fail. Becca wasn’t used to hearing Freen talk to her like that. She wasn’t used to Freen being... harsh.

“Are you even trying, or are you just waiting for someone to fix it for you?” Freen’s words hit like a slap, and Becca flinched, a bit too hard, and the beaker wobbled slightly. She quickly steadied it, but the sting of Freen’s sharp tone lingered. Becca wasn’t a child anymore, and Freen didn’t need to treat her like one. She let out a breath, her fingers shaking as she adjusted the chemicals once more.

“I’ve got it,” Becca muttered.

“Clearly, you don’t. Adding too much base will ruin the whole experiment. Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Becca clenched her jaw, she was determined to get through this without looking at Freen, without giving her the satisfaction of seeing how much her words were rattling her. Since they were kids, Freen had always been the one who encouraged her and helped her when things got tough. If she had doubted Irin and Nop’s claims about Freen’s bossy behavior before, she couldn’t anymore—she’s seeing it now. 

‘Wonder what got her panties twisted?’ Becca rolled her eyes mentally.

“Let me just—” Freen reached over, to the beaker, accidentally brushing her hand against Becca’s.

“I said I’ve got it,” Becca snapped.

The room seemed to fall into silence. Becca bit her lip, her heart hammering as she realized how loud her voice had been.

Freen raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Fine,” Freen said after a moment, leaning back slightly. Her voice was calm, but it carried an edge. “Do it your way.”

Freen didn’t move away completely. She stayed close, her presence looming, watching Becca’s every move like a hawk. Becca could feel her eyes on her, scrutinizing, waiting for her to mess up.

“Don’t forget to stir it properly,” Freen added, her tone clipped. 

Becca ignores her, her grip tightening on the glass stirring rod. She refuses to give Freen the pleasure of watching her snap again.

“Becca.” Freen’s voice was lower now. “You’re holding it wrong.”

“I’m doing fine, Freen.”

Freen gives her a flat stare. “No, you’re not, you’ll spill it if you keep holding it like that. Just let me—”

“I can handle it!” Becca’s voice rose slightly, her frustration bubbling up before she could stop it.

The older girl’s lips tightened into a thin line, and for a moment, Becca thought she might leave her alone. And she did. Freen folded her arms and leaned casually against the edge of the bench, her gaze fixed on Becca with a blend of irritation and something more—something Becca couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Becca swallowed hard, turning back to the task in front of her.

The rest of the class passed by in silence. Freen didn’t speak again, nor did Becca cast her a glance.

When the bell finally rang, Becca exhaled the breath she didn’t know she was holding. She quickly gathered her things, eager to get out of the room and away from Freen’s suffocating presence.

“Becca.”

She froze at the sound of her name, her stomach twisting.

She left the classroom before Freen could say anything more, her heart pounding as she walked down the hallway.

xXXXx

“Everything good in Chem?” Nop asked as he glanced up from his pasta. “Seems like you and the queen bee were butting heads.”

Becca rolls her eyes, “I don’t know why she’s being so difficult.”

“Don’t bother Bec. That’s just how she is. We’re used to it by now, although…” Irin trails off giving her a proud stare. “You were pretty brave snapping at her like that. Everyone’s shocked.” 

Becca flushed, “It wasn’t on purpose. I’m just not used to her acting like a brat. We were childhood friends, and she’s never acted like this.”

Irin raises a brow, “Huh, that makes so much sense why she’d let you borrow her shirt on the first day.”

‘Speaking of which, I have to return that.’ Becca makes a mental note.

“It’s all in the past now; she’s probably changed a lot.” Becca shrugged. “But I did hear rumors that she sleeps around. Is that true?”

Nop paused, jabbing his fork at a table full of jocks. “Not sure about the ‘sleeping around’ part, but she does flirt. I heard she was pretty wild before she and Billy became a thing. Probably hooked up with half the guys over there.”

Becca nearly choked on her drink. “You’re kidding.”

Irin leaned in, her tone dropping slightly. “We kid you not. Freen and Billy have this on-and-off thing, and when they’re off...well, let’s just say people talk.”

Becca wiped her mouth, still processing the revelation. “So, you’re saying she’s...hooked up with all those guys?”

Irin nodded, her expression unusually serious. “That’s what the rumors say. Apparently, she doesn’t waste any time. She still sleeps around whenever she and Billy break up—or at least, that’s what people think.”

Becca’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She hated how much the idea bothered her.

"Well, looks like she's doing fine, right?" Becca muttered.

Irin gave her a look. "Becca... maybe there's more to it than just rumors."

“What do you mean?”

Irin shrugged. "People change, sure. But sometimes... it’s like they’re trying to fill a hole, you know? Maybe that’s what Freen’s been doing."

Becca’s heart pounded. She didn’t want to think about it; a part of her didn’t want to picture Freen trying to fill some emptiness with some guys—or anyone, for that matter. 

Besides her.

“Anyway, that’s just my two cents. She’s still a bitch in my books.” Irin turns back to finishing her food.

Becca nods, lost in thought. She glanced over at Freen’s table, spotting the girl sitting beside what she assumed was her boyfriend. They were laughing about something, heads leaning close together, a comfortable ease between them that stung more than Becca expected.

Her gaze lingered for a moment, watching as Freen tossed her hair back, her smile dazzling and effortless. Becca felt a knot tighten in her chest.

She quickly looked away, focusing on the untouched food in front of her, but the image of Freen laughing with him kept replaying in her head.

"Hey," Irin’s voice broke through her thoughts. "You okay?"

Becca forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just tired, I guess." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unwilling to admit that what had her on edge was watching Freen look so at ease with someone else—someone who wasn’t her.

Nop raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Well, if you need to talk about it... we’re here, you know?”

Becca gave a small, appreciative smile. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

Instead, she glanced at the clock, relieved that the lunch period was winding down. The sooner the bell rang, the quicker she could throw herself into her classes and keep her focus away from the girl sitting across the hall.

xXXXx

Becca had always looked forward to PE classes. Lately, however, even PE had lost its charm, thanks to Freen. The older girl wasn’t outright antagonistic during class, but her presence was impossible to ignore.

Unlike Chemistry, they had no reason to pair up or sit together here. Freen was typically at the center of her usual group of friends, her presence commanding in that effortless, untouchable way she seemed to have perfected. She glided through the gym with an air of effortless authority, her laughter soft but deliberate—the kind that drew people in, making them lean closer and hang on her every word. 

That should have been a relief, Becca thought. But somehow, the distance didn’t help; if anything, it made her more aware of Freen’s presence. The sound of her voice, her laughter—it all grated on Becca’s nerves in ways she couldn’t explain.

Becca shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She didn’t need to let Freen live rent-free in her head, not when there were more important things to focus on. She only needed to push through this last class of the day; band practice awaited after that.

Becca stayed at the back of the group as soon as class ended. As much as she wants to finish early, she prefers the solitude of having the locker room to herself before heading in. But as she opened her locker and started to change, she heard the door swing open and lock.

"Becca," Freen's voice was icy enough to make Becca pause.

She pulled her shirt down before turning slowly, her heart sinking as she saw Freen standing just a few feet away, arms crossed with an unreadable expression. The room suddenly felt much smaller, and Becca had a sinking feeling that whatever Freen wanted to discuss wouldn’t be pleasant.

“So... avoiding me now?” She’s standing her ground like she’s in control, but her eyes betray something darker. 

Becca’s pulse quickened, and she braced herself.

"Scratch that," Freen continued, "You’ve been avoiding me for a week already. Anything I should know about?"

Becca bit her lip. She didn’t want to explain it. She didn’t want to admit how much seeing Freen with someone else had affected her—how that moment had torn open all the emotions she didn’t know she harbored. She was supposed to be moving on, focusing on her band and music, and maybe even giving Jamie a chance. But it was impossible to ignore the fact that every time Freen was near, her feelings grew more complicated, more impossible to ignore.

“I’m not avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

Freen raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her features, "Busy, huh? Funny how you suddenly have time to date around. Who was that guy again? Jamie, was it?"

‘So you were paying attention.’ Becca’s stomach twisted at the mention of her bandmate. She didn’t want to explain her motivations—admit how desperately she’d latched onto the idea of moving on, even if it was just to keep herself from falling apart.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Becca said, her voice quieter now. "I’m trying to focus on my own stuff.”

The air between them thickened as Freen took a step closer.

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out.” Freen’s voice is dangerously calm.

Becca opened her mouth to argue, but Freen raised a hand, silencing her, the older girl’s expression was unreadable,

"Becca," Freen said, her tone almost gentler now, but still held some firmness, "I get that you think we’re all grown up, maybe even handling everything by yourself.

But I’ve always taken care of you since we were kids." 

Freen lets out a sigh, choosing her next words carefully. “I care about you, Becca. You’re like a little sister to me. I’m not letting things slide just because you think nothing’s changed.”

‘Just a little sister.’ 

Becca’s heart hammered in her chest as she met Freen’s gaze, the intensity making her feel smaller than she had in a long time. "Jamie’s not like that, Freen. He’s—"

Freen cut her off, her tone sharp once again. “Please. Do you think I didn’t see how he was eyeing you the other day? And that outfit you wore? Too revealing, Becca. You can’t just wear whatever you want and not expect people to look at you differently.”

“And don’t get me started on how Jamie had you drinking,” Freen said, her voice hardening. “He’s not your fucking boyfriend, Becca. What if something had happened? What if you couldn’t even remember what you were doing?”

“I can handle myself, Freen,” she snapped, her hands balling into fists. “Jamie’s not like that. He didn’t force me to do anything. I’m the one who volunteered to perform that night, NOT him.”

Freen’s eyes burned into Becca’s. “Oh, really? Let me get this straight—Jamie gets you drunk in front of people you barely know, and you think that’s okay? He doesn’t care about you, Becca. You’re just a game to him.”

“You can’t just make assumptions-”

“Assumptions?” Freen scoffed, “I don’t need to make assumptions. I saw the way he was all over you—kissing you like it meant nothing. That kiss, Becca—did you really think that was about you? Or was it just him getting what he wanted, and you letting him? ”

The words hit Becca like a punch to the gut, but she wasn’t about to back down. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she muttered, trying to control her shaking voice.

“Not a big deal?” Freen’s repeats her words as if they’re the stupidest thing she’s heard. 

“Are you really that naive? You’re just another girl to him. He’s just using you to get under your pants.”

Becca’s chest tightened. “You don’t get to tell me how to handle my life. You don’t get to control who I see, or what I do. And even if Jamie were my boyfriend, it’s already none of your business.”

Becca turns on her heel, tired of being berated by the older girl. She had band practice soon and didn’t want to spend anymore moments arguing.

Before she could take more than a few steps, Freen’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. Freen thrust Becca against the lockers, slamming her body into the cold, metal. The sudden pressure left her momentarily breathless and stunned. The sudden impact left her dizzy, her body pinned in place as Freen closed the distance.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” Freen’s voice dropped low as Becca’s heart raced.

Becca, trapped between the lockers and Freen, tried her utmost effort to glare at her. “Let go of me, Freen.”

Freen’s expression darkened further, her face inches from Becca’s. "No one, and I mean no one, walks away from me while I’m talking to them."

Becca’s anger and confusion swirled in her chest. She couldn’t stay here, pinned against the lockers like this—not with Freen so close. She pushes through the emotions she was feeling and the rush of ache pooling in the middle of her legs.

She swallowed hard.

The flush spreading across her face, and likely her ears, felt overwhelming, and she struggled to keep her hands from shaking.

Freen’s gaze didn’t waver, her body pressing against her.

For a moment, everything fell silent, the only sound Becca’s rapid breaths. Then, Freen leaned in just enough to press her nose against Becca’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. Becca froze, her heart racing as the unexpected closeness sent a shiver down her spine. Freen’s breath was warm against her skin as she slowly traced her nose upward to the nape of Becca’s neck.

Freen’s eyes fluttered open, a soft exhale escaping her lips, her expression distant, as if lost in a moment. Her mouth hovered just centimeters from the milky skin at the base of Becca’s neck.

Suddenly, Becca feels soft lips touch her pulse point causing her to tremble. Her head too dizzy and confused to process the situation. Her heart thundering as if she were being chased by a pack of wolves.

Just as she started to feel her knees start to buckle, the older girl placed her thighs in the middle of Becca’s legs, effectively keeping her upright while also relieving the throbbing of her core. The sudden proximity, the heat from Freen’s body against hers, made Becca’s head spin, the sensations were almost too overwhelming to process. She suppresses a whimpering moan as Freen starts to alternate between nipping and sucking the flesh by her pulse, teasing and deliberate.

“Anyone here?”

The sudden rattle of the locker room door handle startled them both.

Freen immediately stepped back, her breath unsteady. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure, then walked briskly toward the door. She unlocked it and swung it open to reveal a small group of girls, dressed in tennis gear.

Becca was left standing there, her pulse still racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Freen barely acknowledged the girls as they filed in, her expression quickly settling into something unreadable. She gives them a quick greeting before stepping aside, almost as if nothing had happened.

Becca remained where she was, her body still trembling, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty. She could feel the echo of Freen’s touch, the heat of her breath, the soft weight of her body against hers. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady herself, but the images wouldn’t go away.

“Becca?” Freen’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, sharp and questioning. Becca blinked, meeting Freen’s eyes for the first time since the door had opened.

“I… I should go,” Becca muttered, her voice shaky, but she couldn’t seem to make her legs move. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, what she even could say.

Freen didn’t respond immediately, her gaze heavy on Becca, as if waiting for something, some kind of answer, but Becca couldn’t provide it.

Without another word, Becca forced herself to turn, her legs still unsteady as she walked briskly past the girls who had entered. She heard them talking behind her, their chatter blending into the background, but it all felt distant, as if she were floating through a dream.

She needed air. She needed space. Most of all, she needed to get away—from Freen, from the whirlwind of emotions the older girl had stirred up, and from the surge of longing she’s been trying to bury.

The hallway felt colder, the silence surrounding her heavier with each step she took toward the music room. Her mind kept replaying the moments in the locker room—the way Freen had touched her, the electric tension that still buzzed in her skin. Becca’s breath hitched as her thoughts swirled, still fixated on the other girl, but she pushed them aside. ‘Focus. Just get through band practice.’

Chapter Text

The first day of school was always predictable. Freen leaned against the bathroom stall wall, scrolling through her phone. First period had been mundane, and the thought of enduring the rest of the day filled her with mild irritation.

The hallway noise outside filtered faintly into the restroom: bursts of laughter, the rush of footsteps, and locker doors slamming shut. Freen shut it all out—all the chatter, the noise. She didn’t even have the energy for her friends. All she wanted was a sliver of quiet before the day blurred into its usual.

Her brief solitude shattered as the bathroom door creaked open, accompanied by hurried footsteps and the sharp snap of the lock.

Freen raised an eyebrow but stayed put, listening.

It didn’t take long for her to notice something unusual—soft sniffles. Whoever had entered was crying.

Freen felt her lips twitch into a smirk. ‘ Crying on the first day of school? How predictable.’ The temptation to mess with the unlucky newcomer was too good to pass up.

Freen flushes the toilet before stepping out of the stall, wiping her hands on the hem of her jacket.

The girl was slim, her hair wet from what she assumed was coffee. Even in the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, her skin seemed to glow softly. Freen’s eyes traced her jawline, noting the sharpness and how it contrasted with the gentle softness of her cheeks. Her glasses were perched perfectly on her nose, adding to the understated elegance. The girl’s hands trembled slightly as she fumbled with the water faucet, but there was something captivating in the way her fingers moved—graceful and a little uncertain.

‘She’s pretty,’ Freen admitted.

The girl’s back was to her as she splashed water on her face, and Freen noticed how she shook off the droplets before wiping her hands on the fabric of her shirt. There was something familiar about her, yet Freen couldn’t quite place it.

“Becbec…?”

The nickname slipped out like it always had, as if no time had passed between them, as if they hadn’t been strangers for all these years. It was a name that had once been whispered in shared moments, in private jokes, in all the little memories that made up their childhood.

The girl froze, her hand suspended in the air as her complexion drained of color. Her wide eyes, filled with disbelief and confusion, slowly turned toward Freen. And in that moment, it all fell into place—it was no other than her childhood friend.

Freen felt the air in her lungs freeze, her heartbeat quickening. After all these years, the girl she had once shared every secret with, the girl who had disappeared from her life right from her mother’s funeral, was standing right in front of her.

For a moment, Freen didn’t know what to do. Her instincts told her to say something—to bridge the gap between the girl in front of her and the person she used to know—but nothing came out. Instead, she let her gaze soften, her voice quieter than usual as she murmured, "You came back."

Becca’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Just a coffee incident down the hallway. I’d hug you if I weren’t drenched."

Freen smiled, the words coming easier now. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Let’s get you dried off first.” She gestured toward the tissue dispenser. “Take off your clothes.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Freen’s brain froze, her stomach sinking. She mentally cursed herself. ‘ What the hell did I just say?’

“I’m sorry. What…?”

She quickly grabbed a handful of tissues from the dispenser, trying to compose herself before walking back towards her childhood friend. 

Becca stood still, frozen, blinking at her, clearly thrown off by her comment.

"Or you can just take off your top. I don’t think your pants are as soaked,” Freen added, trying to salvage the situation and sound more practical than pervy.

Becca’s fingers twitched towards the hem of her shirt. ‘ Please don’t freak out,’ Freen thought. ‘ This is just... practical advice, right?’

Becca’s voice, soft and unsure, cut through the silence. “Yes, but you don’t have to do this. You’re going to be late.”

Freen’s heart softened a little at the concern in Becca’s voice. 

“It’s the first day, Bec, I don’t think we’ll miss something important.” Freen couldn’t resist raising a brow as she crossed her arms. She glanced at Becca’s damp hair and the coffee stains on her shirt. “Or would you rather parade around the school bathed in coffee?”

Becca took a shaky breath. But then, her face softened, and she nodded.

"Great. Let’s rinse your head first.” Freen placed the dry tissues on the counter.

“Lean in,” she instructed, watching as Becca carefully removed her glasses and bent over the sink. The wet strands of her hair glistened under the fluorescent lights, and Freen couldn’t help but notice how delicate she looked.

Freen gently pressed her fingers into Becca’s scalp, feeling the warmth of her skin as she massaged the coffee out of her hair. Her fingers moved with a practiced ease, gliding through the damp strands, and she was careful not to pull too hard. But as her hand brushed against Becca’s nape, she couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran up her spine. The sensation of her fingers lingering on the soft skin there made her stomach flutter, and she quickly tried to suppress the sudden heat rising to her cheeks.

“Don’t move. Let me dry this off,” Freen said, her voice just a bit strained than she intended. She quickly turned off the water, feeling a small sense of relief that the task was almost done. Becca’s hair looked damp but clean now, and Freen reached for the tissues to dry the back of her neck.

The feel of Becca’s skin against the tissue was soft, almost fragile, and Freen found herself lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” Becca’s voice broke her thoughts. She watched Becca squeeze out the excess water from her hair, the movement smooth and graceful despite the circumstances.

“Now, take off your shirt.” Freen didn’t miss the way Becca hesitated, the small shift in her posture. It made her pause for a second.

Freen rolled her eyes, trying to keep things light. “We’ve been bathing together since we were in our diapers Bec. And I have breasts too. Do you have a bra?”

“Well… yes.”

Freen’s lips curved into a half-smile, relieved that Becca was finally going along with it. “Then there’s no problem, just cover your chest with your shirt or something.”

Becca seemed to think about it for a moment, her eyes flickering as she nervously avoided Freen’s gaze. Then, with a quick breath, Becca pulled her shirt over her head.

Freen’s eyes flicked down without meaning to, and she couldn’t help but notice how toned Becca’s arms were—muscular from all those hours spent working out, she assumed. The way her shoulders and back were shaped—defined but soft, not overly bulky, just… strong. Becca’s physique was different than what Freen remembered, and it hit her in a way she hadn’t expected. Becca had always been pretty, but now? She was beautiful . There was a confidence in her body now, a confidence Freen hadn’t quite seen before.

She forced her eyes back to the sink, her heartbeat suddenly a little too loud in her chest. ‘Stop staring. It’s not a big deal. It’s just Becca’. But her thoughts kept spinning. How had Becca’s body changed so much in all the time they’d been apart?

Becca hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Freen cleared her throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension she felt. 

“Turn around.” The command was a bit sharper than Freen had planned, but she needs to focus—focus on helping her friend, not on the sensations she’s starting to feel down there.

Freen’s fingers froze momentarily as Becca spoke. "I’m sorry for not keeping in touch."

The words hit Freen harder than she expected. She had always assumed the distance between them was Becca’s doing. But hearing the apology made the last few years seem so… fragile. ‘I should be apologizing , ’ Freen thought, her chest tight. She hadn’t exactly made any effort either. "I had a lot going on the past few years and… it wasn’t the same with you plus the distance." She sighed inwardly, wishing she could say more, but instead, she continued wiping the tissue along Becca’s back.

“But it doesn’t matter, you’re here now,” she added with a soft smile. She had spent so many years pretending it didn’t bother her, but the truth was, seeing Becca again was like uncovering something buried deep inside her.

Freen’s attention was drawn to Becca’s back as she moved to dry it more carefully, the curve of her shoulders and the muscles that shifted under her skin. “You’ve got a toned back. Do you work out?”

Becca seemed startled by the comment but answered, “Yes, I do kickboxing occasionally.”

Freen’s heart skipped a beat, relieved by the easy answer. “I could tell.” Her voice softened, trying to mask the sudden rush of warmth in her chest. Becca wasn’t the same girl she remembered, but at the same time, she was. ‘She’s stronger now,’ Freen thought.

Freen finished drying Becca’s back, her hands lingering just a little longer than they needed to. Then, she cleared her throat. “Turn around.”

Becca hesitated, her face flushing as she quickly glanced down. “I can do the front myself,” she mumbled, clearly flustered by the situation.

Freen smirked, the heat in Becca’s voice not going unnoticed. So she’s shy now , Freen thought amused.

“You can borrow my shirt, I doubt you’d want to soak yourself again wearing that.” She rummaged through her duffel bag, grabbing a jersey t-shirt and tossing it toward Becca. “Here, it’s a bit loose, but it should fit you.”

She couldn’t help but notice how Becca seemed to hesitate for just a moment before accepting it, then silently pulling it on.

‘It looks good on her’ , she thought unconsciously. The slightly oversized shirt seemed to suit her perfectly.

"Looks like we’re done here," she added. Slipping her bag over her shoulder, Freen gestured for Becca to hand over her phone. "Give me your phone."

Becca complied, pulling her glasses back on and offering up the device. Freen took it, feeling the faintest buzz of warmth at the touch. Her fingers quickly moved across the screen, adding her number without a second thought. “I’m giving you my number. Let’s catch up sometime.”

Once the phones were exchanged and the numbers saved, Freen pocketed her device and stepped closer, opening her arms with a playful but sincere smile. “You owe me a hug.”

The way Becca’s face lit up was worth everything. Freen barely had time to brace herself before Becca wrapped her in a bear hug, the force of it grounding yet exhilarating. “I’ve missed you,” Becca said, her voice muffled against Freen’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too,” Freen murmured, meaning every word. She squeezed Becca tightly, letting herself savor the moment—the warmth, the familiarity, the sense of having something back that she hadn’t realized she needed so much.

They stayed like that longer than either of them probably intended, and Freen was the first to loosen her hold, though she found herself reluctant to let go entirely. “We have to go,” she said gently, the practical side of her nudging them back to reality. “Classes are still ongoing.”

“Y-yes, we should.” Becca stepped back, her expression slightly flustered as she cleared her throat. “So what’s your class?”

“Chemistry. Just down the hall.” Freen unlocks the bathroom door before opening it. Becca follows her out into the now-empty hallway. “With Mr. Sanchez?” 

“The very same. I take it you’re in the same class?” Freen looks at her amused.

“Yes, I’m so glad we’re at least classmates.” The faint excitement of Becca’s voice not lost on her.

“And I’m glad I’ll be seeing more of you,” she said sincerely, stopping in front of the lab. She waited for Becca’s nod before stepping inside, unbothered by Mr. Sanchez’s light scolding as she made her way to her seat.

Settling into her chair, Freen caught the murmur of whispers around the room, but her focus was drawn to Becca, who looked more self-conscious than usual. ‘Was she always this easy to read?’ Freen couldn’t help but chuckle softly when Becca glanced her way. She raised a hand in a small wave, her amusement growing when Becca hesitated before returning it.

Her attention shifted back to Mr. Sanchez as he began assigning partners. The second Freen heard her name paired with Becca’s, she couldn’t suppress the grin. Moving to sit beside Becca felt natural—comforting even. She slid into the chair and leaned slightly toward her, letting the words come as naturally as breathing. “Together again, Becbec?”

Becca’s smile in response, though faint, was enough to reassure Freen. “Yes, together again.”

xXXXx

-You left without saying goodbye?

-Had some errands to run. I got you some chicken noodle soup tho. It’s in the fridge.

-Oh… ty. Sorry for getting drunk haha I must’ve weighed a ton when you carried me

-No biggie. I work out remember?

-Yea, you do look good in tank tops ;)

-You flatter me. Hey, I g2g now. Have to drive somewhere

-Okay, see you at school BB

Her thumb hovers over the screen, caught between texting and leaving things as they were. She sighs, setting her phone aside, and her mind drifts back to the sleepover.

The memory comes back to Freen vividly, playing in her head like a scene from the movie they’d watched that night.

“Clown horror it is,” Becca had said, her dimpled smile flashing as she sorted through the snacks and condiments spread out on the table.

“You brought alcohol?”

Freen shrugs, “I want to unwind. Plus, it’ll help me have fewer clown nightmares once the night ends. You drinking?”

Becca shakes her head, “I’ll just keep watch over you. Make sure you don’t trip over the stairs or something.”

Freen had paused, her gaze lingering on Becca as if trying to read between the lines of her words. Then, with a tilt of her head, she asked, “But you do drink, right?”

“Haven’t tried it yet,” Becca admitted.

Freen had nodded, twisting off the bottle cap with a practiced ease. “Just one sip. I can drink the rest if you want.”

Becca had hesitated, then, with a determined frown, she took it from Freen, holding the base cautiously. Freen’s eyes followed the motion of the bottle as it slowly rose to Becca’s lips.

She’d only meant to tease Becca a little, but now she couldn’t tear her gaze away. The way Becca’s lips curved around the rim, her brows knitting together in faint concentration, was almost mesmerizing. It was just a simple sip, nothing more, but Freen’s stomach gave a strange little flip at the sight.

Becca pulled the bottle away quickly, her nose scrunching as she passed it back to Freen. “Tastes like piss,” she said, her face a perfect mix of disgust and amusement.

Freen burst out laughing, reaching over to pinch Becca’s cheeks, unable to resist the urge. “You’re such a baby, Becbec.”

Becca pouted in response, crossing her arms. “I’m not a baby.”

“Sure you’re not,” Freen teased, taking another swig from the bottle. Her lips brushed the same spot Becca’s had just moments ago, and the realization hit her out of nowhere. An indirect kiss.

She didn’t let her expression falter, didn’t let Becca notice the sudden rush of heat that crept up her neck, but it lingered in the back of her mind. She quickly finished the bottle, hoping the alcohol would help drown out the thoughts starting to stir.

The movie started, and Freen shifted beside Becca. She casually adjusts her black camisole, It’s one of her more revealing choices. She wasn’t above testing the waters—observing Becca’s subtle reactions and gauging her expressions just for the sake of harmless teasing.

As the movie progressed, Freen found herself hiding behind Becca more often than she liked. She’d always hated clowns, and this one was particularly menacing. Every time a jumpscare hit, she instinctively clung to Becca’s arm, burying her face in the crook of Becca’s neck.

Becca didn’t seem to mind—but even if she did, she didn’t say anything. But Freen didn’t miss the way Bec ca’s shoulders tensed under her touch, the way her breathing hitched slightly when Freen’s breath ghosted against her milky skin.

Her lips curled into a small, secretive smile as she nestled closer, her cheek brushing against the soft fabric of Becca’s shirt. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the thrill of being this close, but Freen found herself savoring every little reaction she drew out of Becca.

She let her hand linger on Becca’s arm longer than necessary, her fingers brushing lightly against the bare skin near her elbow. She didn’t miss the way Becca’s ears turned red, or the way her gaze flickered toward Freen before quickly darting back to the screen.

Another jumpscare ripped through the scene, and Freen clutched Becca’s arm tighter, pressing herself against her in an almost childlike way. “Why did we pick this movie again?” Her voice were muffled by Becca’s shoulder.

Becca sighed, though there was a faint tremor in her voice. “You’re the one who flipped the coin, Freen.”

“Regretting it now,” Freen admitted, though she made no move to pull away.

Becca stayed quiet, her attention focused on the screen, but Freen could feel the subtle tension in her posture.

It was intoxicating in a way Freen didn’t entirely understand, but she relished it nonetheless.

Freen didn’t remember much by the time the clown delivered its final, chilling laugh and the credits began to roll. The alcohol must have hit harder than she thought, to the point that it blurred the edges of reality. She vaguely recalled Becca helping her off the couch, her voice soft and steady as she guided Freen up the stairs to her room.

And then there was ‘that’.

Becca was so close, her soft breath mingling with Freen’s as they lay together. Freen remembered reaching up, brushing a strand of hair from Becca’s cheek, marveling at how angelic she looked in the dim light. She whispered something—she couldn’t recall what—before she tilted her head to graze Becca’s lips against her own.

Freen shifted, her body pressing against Becca’s, feeling the warmth of her beneath her own. A soft, breathless sigh escaped, muffled between their joined lips—it could’ve been hers, or Becca’s, or maybe both. Her free hand trailed down, fingers grazing the curve of Becca’s waist, exploring the delicate line where her top met bare skin. The heat of her touch made Becca shiver, her body instinctively arching closer.

Their tongues met, hesitant at first, then more daring, intertwining in a sensual dance. Freen’s hand traveled upward, slipping under the hem of Becca’s shirt, her fingertips brushing against the soft expanse of her stomach. Each touch, every caress, was deliberate, meant to memorize the way Becca felt beneath her hands.

The scent of vanilla clung to Becca’s skin, mingling with the taste of sweetness on her lips, a combination that made Freen’s thoughts spiral. The world blurred, shrinking until the only thing that existed was Becca—the warmth of her skin, the quiet gasps in between their kisses, and the way her eyes fluttered open for a fleeting moment, heavy with longing and desire for her.

Freen’s lips trailed down, brushing along Becca’s jawline and tracing the delicate curve of her neck. Becca’s breath hitched, and the sound sent a spark through Freen, wanting to hear more of it.

A part of her both cursed and thanked the alcohol for pushing her to cross the line, letting her taste something so forbidden yet undeniably intoxicating.

“Earth to Freen?”

She immediately snaps out of her thoughts, as if she was a child caught with a hand on a cookie jar. She looks up to see Billy standing across the table with a small smile.

“Zoning out in the library, huh?”

Freen forced a chuckle, shutting her book. “Yeah, just… got a lot on my head.” She stood abruptly, needing to put some space between herself and the whirlwind of thoughts in her head. Her legs carried her to the nearest shelf, fingers grazing the spines of books she wasn’t really reading.

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve been out of it lately.”

Freen hummed, pulling a book from the shelf and inspecting its cover. “Guess so. There’s just a lot going on.”

Billy sighed, “I feel like we’ve barely talked since last week. And I was a jerk back then too.”

She stiffened slightly, remembering one of the many arguments they’d had.

“I’m sorry about that,” Billy said, his tone more earnest now. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know I’ve been stressed with basketball and school, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.”

Freen finally glanced at him, surprised by the apology. “It’s okay, we were both tired, I think. Stuff like that happens.”

“Maybe,” he said, shifting awkwardly, “but I still feel like I’ve been screwing up lately. Between practice, games, school—it’s like I never have time for us anymore.”

Freen placed the book back on the shelf, her fingers lingering on its edge. “You’re not screwing up, Billy. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, but so do you,” he countered, stepping closer. “And I feel like I’ve been letting you down. I hate that it feels like… like we’re drifting.”

Billy stepped closer to her, and before Freen could think, he cupped her face gently in his hands, leaning in. She felt her breath catch in her throat. His lips pressed softly against hers, tender and warm. Freen froze for a moment as her thoughts scattered. She could feel his presence—his warmth, the steady pressure of his lips—but something was missing. It wasn’t that Billy was wrong. It was just… wrong in some inexplicable way.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the kiss, to ground herself in the moment. But the image of someone else—someone else’s eyes, their dimpled smile—kept flashing in her mind.

Billy’s lips deepened against hers, coaxing her into the kiss, pulling her closer. Her heart raced, her pulse loud in her ears. She felt dizzy, her skin tingling from the warmth, the pressure of his hands on her face. But it was in that exact moment—when she felt his lips drift to her neck—that she nearly lost control.

Her breath hitched just as he started sucking at her pulse point.

“B-”

Becca.

“-Billy…” She manages to catch herself.

Billy didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. His kisses trail down her neck to her nape, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her against him.

But even as he kissed her, even as she melted into the touch, something inside her flickered. A strange discomfort gnawed at the back of her mind, something she couldn’t quite place. She was kissing Billy, and it should’ve been fine. It should’ve felt natural. Yet, amid the closeness, of the warmth, she couldn’t shake the thought of another face, another touch.

Freen pulled back fully, standing straight as she blinked, trying to shake off the strange sensation that had just consumed her. Her heart was still beating hard in her chest, the kiss from Billy still somewhat fresh, but something about it felt... wrong. Almost like she wasn’t fully present.

She forced a tight smile at Billy, her thoughts scattered, and her mind still reeling. “I just... I think I need some time alone for now,” she murmured, her voice distant even to her own ears.

Billy looked at her, a frown pulling at his lips.

“Yeah… okay.” He stepped back slowly, though his gaze lingered on her as if wanting to say something more.

xXXXx

Freen was seething.

She sat with her friends, trying to pay attention to their conversation, but her focus was constantly shifting to the other girl seated across the lawn. Her gaze flickered over to Becca, who was seated with Jamie at a table near the corner. The way Becca ran her fingers through her hair, to the playful laugh she shared with Jamie, it all grated on Freen's nerves more than she was willing to admit.

Her friends didn’t seem to notice as they chatted excitedly about their week. She watched as Jamie leaned in close to her. His hand brushed against her arm while Becca doesn’t seem to care. 

‘ What is she doing with him?’  

The way Becca laughed, the way she smiled at him— that smile—Freen hated it.

She tried to focus on the conversation around her, but it was hard to ignore how Becca was dressed. The crop top. The skirt barely covered her thighs. The soft cardigan pulled tight around her, as though she were deliberately trying to shield herself from Freen’s gaze.

Why would she dress like that?

Was Becca trying to get attention from everyone? Or was she trying to please her date?

Freen’s eyes narrowed slightly as Becca leaned closer to Jamie, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass.

Freen’s eyes narrowed as Jamie handed Becca a drink. She watched Becca hesitate for a moment before taking a sip, her face contorting slightly at the taste but savoring it soon after.

‘She doesn’t even drink.’

The alcohol seemed to be loosening her up, making her even more playful. Freen couldn’t help but notice the way Becca’s eyes lingered on Jamie, the way she seemed to be enjoying the attention a little too much. The sight of it was almost suffocating.

When Becca stood to perform, Freen couldn’t tear her gaze away. The spotlight hit Becca, and for a moment, Freen’s breath caught in her throat. Why does she look so confident? It was like she was a completely different person. She grabbed the mic, and her eyes immediately met Freen’s across the room. The challenge in her gaze was unmistakable, and for a second, Freen felt a pang of unease.

Becca sang with a raw intensity, her voice strong, her gaze unwavering. It felt as though she was singing just for Freen. 

Freen clenched her fists under the table, the jealousy and frustration simmering beneath her skin. Becca was showing a side of herself that Freen hadn’t seen before. Confident, unapologetic—too much for Freen to handle. When Becca’s eyes locked with hers again, Freen felt a jolt run through her.

And then, Becca smirked at her. That smug little smirk. ‘She’s doing this on purpose,’ Freen realized with a sinking feeling. Becca wasn’t just singing. She was performing for her. She was daring Freen to do something about it.

When Becca finished her performance, the applause was still ringing in her ears, but everything felt distant to Freen. The crowd’s cheers seemed muffled, swallowed by the sudden tightness in her chest. Becca, standing there in the spotlight, was radiant—confident, fearless, and untouchable.

As Becca made her way back to the table, she was still riding the high of the performance, her posture relaxed. Jamie was quick to greet her, his smile full of admiration. Freen watched, feeling a strange knot form in her stomach as Becca slid into her seat beside him. He leaned in, his hand brushing her arm, his voice low and warm. They were too close.

Jamie’s fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary, and Becca—Becca, who had always been so guarded, so innocent in Freen’s eyes—seemed completely at ease with it. That unguarded smile, the one that had always been so sweet when it was directed at Freen, was now directed for Jamie. The way she looked at him made something tighten painfully in Freen’s chest.

They moved outside the café’s premises, Jamie keeping pace beside her, his hand brushing against her back as they made their way to his car. Freen’s gaze never left them. But she refused to look away, as if by doing so, she could somehow will it all to stop.

They reached Jamie’s car, away from the noise of the café. Freen’s heart beat louder in her chest as she watched Becca turn to him, her smile softening. The way Jamie grinned back, leaning in toward her, made something inside Freen snap. And then, before Freen could breathe, they kissed.

Her breath caught in her throat. No. She wanted to look away, to deny the sight of it, but she couldn't. The kiss was slow, soft at first, like it was tentative. And Becca—Becca didn’t pull away. She didn’t resist. She melted into him, her hands finding his chest as though she had been waiting for this moment.

Freen’s heart stopped. Her chest constricted painfully, a surge of something ugly swelling in her throat.

As they pulled apart, Becca’s face flushed, her breath shallow. Freen’s mind reeled, but her body refused to react. She just stared, barely breathing, as Jamie murmured something to Becca.

She climbed into the car, the door shutting with a soft thud. But Freen wasn’t looking at the car anymore. Her eyes remained fixed on the spot where Becca had stood just moments ago, as if staring at it long enough could make everything rewind. But time didn’t work that way.

It didn’t make sense. They weren’t together. They’d never even been together, not the way Freen had wanted.

She should’ve been happy for Becca, should’ve seen it as a step forward, but it felt like the end. A conclusion to something she’d never gotten the chance to begin.

Freen ran a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. ‘ This is ridiculous,’ she thought. ‘ You’re not even supposed to want her like this.’ But it didn’t matter what she told herself. Freen could only admit the truth: she wanted something she couldn’t have. And it was tearing her apart.

xXXXx

She screwed up.

Freen leaned against the cool metal of the locker room door, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as flashbacks of what just happened replayed in her mind. The heat of Becca’s skin under her lips, the subtle tremble in her frame, and the look of pure confusion mixed with something else—something that Freen wasn’t sure what to name—all burned into her thoughts.

‘What the hell was that?’

She ran a hand through her hair, frustration, and guilt warring within her. She’d let her emotions and lust get the best of her, let whatever tension that had been building between them explode into something… unrecognizable. Something she couldn’t take back.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

When she confronted Becca, it had been about clarity, about putting a stop to the distance and the strange tightness in her chest every time she saw Becca with Jamie. That was all it was meant to be—an older sister looking out for someone she cared about. 

At least, that’s what Freen had been telling herself.

But the moment she had Becca pinned, the faint blush on the other girl’s cheeks, and the slight waver in her voice caused something within Freen to snap. It wasn’t protectiveness. It wasn’t familiarity. 

It was something much more primal.

She clenched her fists, the memory of Becca’s soft gasp when their bodies had been so close replaying in her ears.

The rational part of her screamed that she’d crossed a line. Becca had been flustered, vulnerable, and Freen had taken advantage of that—intentionally or not. And now? Now Becca wouldn’t even look at her, wouldn’t speak to her.

Freen pushed herself off the door. The locker room had filled with other students, their chatter an irritating reminder that life outside her current dilemma kept moving. She’d plastered on her mask, forcing a calm expression as she greeted the girls and slipped past them, but her thoughts were anything but calm.

As she stepped outside, Freen allowed herself a moment to breathe. She needed to think, to figure out how to face Becca now. What she’d done—it wasn’t fair to Becca. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

Becca wasn’t hers to feel this way about.

The words twisted uncomfortably in her gut.

‘She’s not yours.’

But the thought of Becca with Jamie, laughing with him, smiling in ways that felt too intimate, too real, made her stomach churn. It was irrational, she knew that. Becca was free to make her own choices, to live her life however she wanted, but the thought of her choosing Jamie, of her giving that same radiant smile to someone else, was like a dagger lodged in Freen’s chest.

She needed to apologize. Somehow, she needed to explain herself without making things worse.

Freen found herself wandering toward the music room, her feet moving on their own accord. She knew Becca would be there for band practice, and though part of her wanted to turn around, to give Becca space, another part—one she couldn’t silence—refused to leave things as they were.

As she approached, the faint sound of Becca’s voice floated through the air, amidst the other voices of her bandmates. Freen stopped short, leaning against the wall just outside the door, her heart skipping at the sound.

Since they were kids, she’d prided herself on being the one to protect her, to look out for her. But now? Now Freen wasn’t so sure she hadn’t become something that would tear her down instead.

Curiosity—pulled her closer. Her gaze slipped inside the room, finding Becca perched on a stool, guitar in hand, her fingers gliding over the strings with ease.

Freen’s breath caught as she took in the sight before her. Becca, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon light streaming through the windows, looked like something out of a dream. The loose strands of her hair fell delicately near her face, framing her soft features like a painter’s perfect brushstroke. She pushed one behind her ear absentmindedly, her focus entirely on the music.

And then she smiled—a small, dimpled smile that seemed to light up the entire room. Freen could feel her pulse quicken, her throat suddenly dry. Becca’s smile had always been beautiful, but this one, so private and unguarded, felt like a privilege to witness.

Her eyes drifted lower, tracing the movement of Becca’s veined hands as they danced across the fretboard. There was something captivating about the way her fingers moved—strong yet graceful.

Freen lifted her gaze back to Becca’s face. She was completely lost in her own world, and Freen found herself utterly lost in her. She looked like an angel, glowing with a quiet, otherworldly beauty that made it impossible to look away. The soft curve of her lips, the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, even the little furrow in her brow as she focused on the next note—all of it made Freen’s chest tighten in a way that was equal parts awe and ache.

When Becca turned her head slightly, her profile catching the light just so, Freen felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen something—or someone—so effortlessly mesmerizing.

A single strand of hair slipped loose again, and Becca paused mid-strum to brush it back, her hand moving in a slow, deliberate motion. The gesture was so small, so insignificant, and yet Freen found herself utterly captivated.

Freen’s chest tightened as she continued watching Becca, the world outside the room falling away. There was something so profoundly pure about the way Becca carried herself, the way her movements, and even her smallest gestures seemed to radiate an untouched innocence.

And that terrified her.

Becca was too good for someone like her, and Freen knew it. Everything she touched had a way of falling apart, of breaking down into something messy and irreparable. She’d ruined friendships, relationships—herself.

Her throat tightened as a memory flickered through her mind. She thought of her mother, the one person who had always tried to shield her from the chaos. 

When the accident happened, it shattered Freen’s world—and somewhere deep down, she carried the weight of blame. She didn’t know if it was her fault, not really, but that didn’t stop the guilt from consuming her.

And now, as she looked at Becca, she felt the same fear clawing at her chest.

Becca didn’t belong in her myriad of problems. She deserved someone steady, someone who could offer her the kind of stability and care Freen knew she could never give. The thought twisted in her gut, but she forced herself to acknowledge it. She thought of Jamie. Jamie was stable, grounded—the kind of person who wouldn’t break Becca the way Freen inevitably would.

Her gaze drifted back to her childhood friend, watching as she tilted her head, her features soft and glowing in the dim light. 

Freen blinked, forcing herself to look away from the glowing figure in the music room. Her chest tightened as she took a step back, the cool hallway air brushing against her skin, grounding her just enough to remind her of where she was. She couldn’t do this—couldn’t stand here, hovering like a moth too close to a flame, knowing full well she’d burn them both if she stayed any longer.

Just as she turned to leave, a familiar voice broke through her haze.

“What the hell are you doing all the way here?”

Freen spun around to see Nam stomping towards her, the cheerleader’s ponytail bouncing with every determined step. She was still in her practice uniform, her arms crossed as she gave Freen a pointed look. “We’re starting warm-ups, Freen. Why aren’t you at practice?”

Freen cleared her throat, masking her unease with a casual shrug. “Got caught up. I’ll be there in a second.”

Nam arched a brow, her gaze flicking toward the music room door. “Caught up with what, exactly? Don’t tell me you’re spying on your ‘little sister’ again.”

Freen rolled her eyes, shoving her hands into her pockets. “She’s not my little sister. And I wasn’t spying.”

Nam smirked, leaning against the wall, clearly not buying the little sister agenda. “Sure. You’re just, what? Casually standing outside the music room, making sure she’s still breathing?”

“Don’t start,” Freen muttered, brushing past Nam and heading toward the gym.

But Nam wasn’t done yet. She fell into step beside Freen, her teasing grin never faltering. “You know, for someone who insists she’s not overprotective, you’re pretty terrible at hiding it. Becca’s not a kid, Freen. She’s perfectly capable of handling herself. You don’t have to hover like an overprotective parent every time she’s out of your sight.”

Freen clenched her jaw, “I’m not hovering. I just happened to pass by.”

“Uh-huh,” Nam said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Just don’t forget practice actually requires your attention.”

Freen didn’t respond, her mind already drifting back to Becca, to the image of her sitting in the music room.

Nam thought she was being overprotective—playing the part of the big sister too well. But Nam didn’t understand. She didn’t know how much Freen hated herself for feeling this way, for wanting something she had no right to want.

Because deep down, Becca wasn’t just a little sister or just a childhood friend. Not to Freen.

But she had to be.

She had to be, because somewhere along the line, anything else would destroy them both.

Freen glanced at Nam, who was still watching her with that smug, knowing expression. “I’ll be there in five,” she said curtly before breaking away toward the gym.

Nam called after her, laughing. “Don’t forget to let little sis breathe, Freen! She’s not going anywhere!”

Freen didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

‘Yes’ , she thought bitterly, swallowing the ache rising in her chest. ‘ She’s just my little sister.’

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun slanted through the music room blinds, casting golden stripes across the floor. The rest of her bandmates doing their own thing with their instruments as if they were playing like cogs within a clockwork.

Becca sat on a stool near the back with her guitar resting in her lap. Her fingers absent-mindedly moved over the strings. The music they were playing was not fully registering amidst the whirl of thoughts in her head. Specifically, of a person occupying most of the thoughts in her head: Freen Sarocha Chankimha.

Becca’s fingers hesitated for a split second before continuing, the incident in the locker room that happened moments earlier still looping in her head. The way Freen had confronted her, the press of her body, her breath warm against Becca’s skin as her lips brushed her neck—it wasn’t something she could just easily brush off.

Maybe Freen also felt something for her? Before she could entertain the thought, she remembered the rumors concerning the other girl—her flings, her ability to jump from one person to the next. The way people spoke of her like she was untouchable, unshaken in the midst of it all.

Could someone like that even care about her? The thought felt ridiculous as she recalled how Freen smoothly handled herself in the locker room. How she had touched Becca like it was just another Tuesday for her. And then she’d walked away, leaving Becca stranded in a whirlwind of emotions she wasn’t even sure Freen had shared.

Her gaze fell to the music room floor, the soft afternoon light doing little to brighten the growing heaviness in her chest. Freen didn’t stumble or hesitate. Maybe Becca had imagined the sincerity in those moments, projecting her feelings onto someone who was just doing what she always did—playing the game.

Her jaw tightened, and she swallowed hard. If Freen was just playing with her, then what did that make her? Another name in the rumors, another number to add to her ‘conquests’? Becca's hands balled into fists at the thought. Freen wasn’t the Freen she used to know. She wasn’t the warm, open girl with whom she had frequent sleepovers with, who was close enough to be called her sister. 

Becca strummed the wrong chord, the discordant note cutting through the melody. She winced but quickly adjusted, hoping no one had noticed.

Her grip tightened on the neck of her guitar as another thought surfaced. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but it did.

‘Of course, it’s a game,’ she told herself. ‘Freen couldn’t possibly see me like that.’

She clenched her jaw, shoving the thought aside before it could root itself deeper. She didn’t want to admit how much that possibility stung.

The drums grew louder, a signal that they were moving into the chorus. Becca tried to bring her thoughts back to the present, but her thoughts refused to settle as her fingers found the chords through muscle memory.

Her chest ached with a mix of anger and something she didn’t want to name. If Freen was messing with her, why? Was it some kind of power play? Did Freen think so little of her that she’d pull a stunt like this?

Jane’s guitar riff broke through her haze, her notes blending with Jamie’s bassline. The music swelled around her, but Becca barely heard it.

‘She’s messing with me,’ Becca decided, her fingers tightening on the pick. It was the only explanation that made sense. Anything else—felt like she was setting herself up for disappointment.

The song ended with a sharp crash of cymbals. Jamie stretched his arms over his head, and Gale began flipping through their sheet music for the next track.

“Break time?” Gale asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s take five,” Irin said, leaning back on her stool.

Becca set her guitar down carefully, the strings humming faintly in the quiet. Her hands felt heavy, her chest tighter than it had been before practice started.

She couldn’t let it fester anymore. If she didn’t ask Freen what had happened, if she didn’t demand answers, it would drive her insane.

She’d had enough. She clenched her fists, jaw tightening.

Across the room, Jamie and Gale were debating a chord progression, and Jane had already started tuning her guitar again. Becca stayed in her corner, her gaze fixed on her guitar strings.

And if Freen wanted to play games, then Becca could surely play them too.

After all, she’d spent years dealing with worse—getting pushed around, being the target of snide comments and cruel jokes.

She’d learned to hide her feelings, to fight back when necessary, and to never let anyone see how much they got to her. Freen might think she could mess with her, but Becca was done being the one left in the dark. If Freen wanted to keep toying with her, then she’d be ready.

xXXXx

The house was packed, laughter and the booming bassline of a pop remix echoing off the high ceilings. Heng’s house was as extravagant as his reputation—a sprawling space filled with varsity jackets, cheerleaders, and the kind of kids who always seemed to have a solo in the yearbook.

“Nice crowd, not bad for Becca’s debut, yeah?” Jamie said, carrying his bass case on one shoulder as he surveyed the room.

“Guess varsity guys have that magic touch,” Gale replied dryly, tuning out a group of rowdy football players tossing ping pong balls at a pyramid of red cups.

Becca lagged behind, clutching the edges of her pink faux fur coat, her nerves prickling. Beneath the soft pink coat, her black leather top and matching skirt clung snugly to her skin. Jane had called it "edgy and unforgettable" when she’d picked it out for her. Becca wasn’t really used to wearing such outfits. It felt like wearing a flashing neon sign over her head pointing directly at her that says ‘Look at me . ’

“You okay, Becs?” Jane asked.

“I’m fine,” Becca said quickly, though there’s a flush creeping up her neck.

“You look amazing,” Jane reassured her, giving her arm a squeeze. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Becca nodded but didn’t reply. She tugged her coat tighter, her eyes darting around the room. She caught glimpses of people looking her way, a couple of them whispering and laughing, though whether it was about her or not, she couldn’t tell.

“Come on,” Irin said, appearing at her side and motioning toward the makeshift stage in the corner of the living room. “Let’s get set up before Heng gets too drunk to remember we’re playing.”

The band followed Irin, weaving through the sea of partygoers. They reached the stage, a small platform lit with fairy lights strung across the walls. Their instruments were already there, along with a soundboard Heng had borrowed from the school’s AV club.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Jamie sets his bass down and before stretching his fingers.

Jamie uncapped a small bottle of whiskey he’d slipped into his bass case, the amber liquid glinting under the stage lights. He grinned as he poured a splash into a set of plastic cups he’d grabbed on the way in.

“A little liquid courage before we knock their socks off.” Jamie said, handing a cup to each of them while being mindful not to spill. 

“Cheers to not messing up,” Gale said dryly.

“To being the best damn band here,” Jane added.

Becca managed a small smile, lifting her cup with a quiet, “Cheers.” She only sipped the whiskey—it burned her throat on the way down, making her eyes water slightly, but the warmth settled in her chest, dulling the edges of her nerves.

The others downed their drinks quickly, and Jamie stashed the bottle back in his bag. Gale and Jane began fiddling with their instruments, while Irin tapped out a quick beat on her snare drum. Becca took another deep breath, focusing on the sounds of her bandmates’ chatter.

As she adjusted the mic stand again, movement in the crowd caught her attention. She glanced up—and froze.

Across the room, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, was Freen. She was laughing at something a tall guy in a varsity jacket said. Her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass, the motion slow and deliberate, as if she wasn’t paying attention—but Becca could tell she was. Her lips curved into a playful smile, her gaze flicking up beneath long lashes as the guy said something that made her laugh, the sound light and teasing. She tilted her head slightly, exposing the curve of her neck.

Becca’s stomach twisted. Her fingers tightened on the mic stand as she watched the interaction unfold.

‘So this is what she’s doing tonight.’

The guy leaned closer to Freen, whispering something that made her laugh again. It was the kind of laugh Becca had always admired—light, carefree, and completely disarming. But now, it grated against her nerves.

‘Her and Billy must be on another one of their breaks,’ Becca thought bitterly, tearing her eyes away. ‘Guess it doesn’t take her long to move on.’

She tried to shake the image from her mind, focusing instead on the stage, on her bandmates, on the music they were about to play.

‘Just sing, forget her.’

And then, with the first strum of Jane’s guitar, the music drowned out everything else.

The sultry opening notes of Seven Rings filled the room, Jane’s electric guitar giving the pop hit a gritty edge. Gale followed, layering in shimmering keys that pulsed through the crowd, and Irin’s commanding rhythm on the drums synced perfectly with Jamie’s steady bassline.

Becca leaned into the mic, her lips brushing against it as she began the first line, her voice smooth and honeyed:

"Yeah, breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…"

The room seemed to pause, heads turning toward the stage as the first verse rolled out. Becca’s voice started low, steady. It wasn’t loud or overbearing, but it didn’t need to be; there was a surety in the way her words flowed. 

She slipped off her pink faux fur coat, tossing it onto a stool behind her, and the black leather top underneath gleamed under the lights, catching the attention of everyone watching.

A few cheers rose from the crowd. Becca smirks, her nerves gradually melting into the rhythm. Her hips swayed in time with the beat as her voice gained a sultry edge. She prowls the edge of the stage like it was her runway, locking eyes with a few people in the crowd to draw them further into the performance.

And then her gaze snagged on a certain someone near the kitchen.

Freen was leaning against the counter, her posture relaxed as she sipped a drink. The guy in the varsity jacket beside her said something, but Freen wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were on Becca.

Their gazes locked, and the rest of the room fell away.

For a moment, Becca faltered as she gripped the mic tightly. Freen didn’t look away, her lips were slightly parted, her eyes dark and piercing.

Becca’s chest tightened. Every nerve in her body felt electrified as they continued their stare down.

But then Freen blinked, turning her attention back to the guy beside her. She laughed at something he said, leaning into him as if nothing had happened.

Becca’s heart clenched, her chest filling with heat that wasn’t from the stage lights. ‘So that’s how it is.’

She flicked her hair over her shoulder forcing her smirk back into place, throwing herself back into the music.

"Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch…"

The band was on fire. Becca moved to Jamie’s mic during the bridge, her voice blending easily with his deep tones.

But her focus wasn’t entirely on the music. The image of Freen watching her lingered in her mind, a ghost she couldn’t shake.

By the final chorus, the crowd was shouting the lyrics back at them, the energy in the room electric.

"I want it, I got it, yeah!"

Becca stood still for a moment as the room flared with applause and whistles. Her chest rises and falls from the adrenaline of their performance. Her previous self-consciousness due to her outfit now forgotten.

“Alright, let’s keep it going!” Jamie shouted into the mic, earning a cheer from the crowd.

They played through a mix of covers and original tracks. But even as she smiled and sang, her eyes kept drifting toward the crowd, scanning for a familiar figure. Freen wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, and Becca hadn’t spotted her anywhere else.

Becca stepped back from the mic as applause and cheers erupted around them after the last song’s notes.

The band gathered at the front of the stage, arms slung around each other as they bowed. “Thank you, everyone!” Jamie called out.

The noise of the crowd now settles into the party’s usual buzz as they pack up their instruments. Becca reached for her pink faux fur coat, her mind still half on the performance and half on the nagging question of where the object of her thoughts had disappeared to.

“Hey, that was incredible. You killed it out there.” Irin said, tossing a water bottle in her direction.

“Thanks,” Becca said, catching the water bottle before taking a sip.

Becca’s gaze flickered across the room once more, still searching.

And then she saw her. Near the back corner of the room, leaning against a wall. Freen wasn’t flirting with anyone now; instead, she was watching Becca, her expression unreadable.

Freen’s posture was relaxed, almost indifferent, but there was something in her gaze that held Becca captive. But then Freen broke the moment, tilting her head back to take another long sip from her drink, her focus shifting to the crowd around her.

“Hey, superstar.”

Becca blinked, startled out of her thoughts as Jamie appeared beside her, a lopsided grin on his face.

“You were incredible up there,” Jamie said, as he offered her a drink which she assumed was punch mixed with some alcohol in it. “Seriously, I don’t know how you make it look so effortless.”

“Thanks,” Becca said taking the cup from him, clearly distracted.

“Becca?”

“I’m fine,” she replied almost too quickly.

Jamie’s gaze lingered on her before he leaning in slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, if you ever need someone to celebrate with…” He trailed off.

Becca’s cheeks flushed, but it wasn’t Jamie’s proximity making her heart race.

She glanced over his shoulder, her eyes searching for Freen again—and found her still in the corner, now leaning heavily against the wall with another drink in hand.

Freen was laughing at something a friend had said, but it didn’t look real. Her movements were looser than usual, her smile too wide, her gestures exaggerated. Becca frowned, noticing the empty cups piling up on the table near her.

Jamie followed her gaze. “Ah, Freen,” he said, his voice light. “Wonder who’s her next target. I heard she and Billy broke up again recently.”

Becca grip tightened on the red cup. She didn’t want to hear Jamie’s take on Freen—not now.

“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’ll be at the minibar if you want to hang out. Just the two of us.” Jamie chuckled, giving her a wink before stepping back.

“Sure.”

As Jamie sauntered off, Becca’s gaze snapped back to the other girl. Another drink had appeared in her hand, and Becca’s frustration surged.

Becca sighed exasperatedly, setting her untouched drink down on a nearby speaker. Whatever her feelings were, she couldn’t just stand by and watch Freen drink herself into oblivion.

Tugging her pink faux fur coat tighter around her shoulders, she stepped off the stage and headed toward the corner where Freen stood, her mind buzzing with a mix of anger and worry.

Becca wove her way through the partygoers, her faux fur coat brushing against people as she pushed past. The closer she got to Freen, the bigger her anxiousness grows.

Freen was tipping back her cup again when Becca finally reached her, the faint smell of alcohol and cheap soda hitting her as she got close. Becca placed a firm hand on Freen’s wrist before she could drink from it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Becca said, her voice sharper than she intended.

Freen blinked, surprised, before her lips curved into a smirk. “What’s this? Becbec worrying about me?” Her words were slightly slurred.

Becca ignored the comment and tugged the cup from Freen’s hand, setting it down on the nearest surface. “I’m serious, Freen. Can we talk somewhere else? Alone?”

Freen arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall with a shrug. “What for?”

“Freen.” Becca muttered firmly. 

Freen rolled her eyes, “Fine. Lead the way.”

Becca breathes out in relief. Glad that Freen didn’t put up much of a fight. She turned and headed toward the quieter side of the house, weaving through the crowd until they reached an empty hallway. She opens a door to an unused bedroom before holding it open for the other girl to enter.

Freen followed before dropping into a chair like she owned the place. “Alright, what’s so important you had to drag me away from the fun?” she drawled, crossing her arms and fixing Becca with an amused look.

Becca shuts and locks the door behind them, her pulse hammering in her chest. She tried to organize her thoughts as Freen waited for her to speak up. “What was that… that ‘stunt’ you pulled in the locker room?” she finally managed to ask.

Freen blinked, her expression neutral, then a slow smirk spread across her face. “Ah. That.”

“Yes, ‘that’. You can’t just do something like that and then act like nothing happened.”

Freen leaned back in the chair, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “Why not? Maybe it didn’t mean anything.”

Becca flinched from the casual dismissal. For a second, a flicker of hurt crossed her face before it morphed into anger. “So what? You were just bored? Or is this some new game you’re playing?”

“Maybe,” Freen said, her voice light. “Things with Billy have been tense lately. You’re overthinking it, Becca. It was just me messing around. Don’t turn it into something it’s not.”

The words stung more than she expected. She blinked, trying to push the hot rush of tears back down. ‘Don’t let her see you crack.’ But the offhand dismissal in Freen’s tone, like it was all just a joke, made her blood boil.

“Right,” she said, her voice flat. “Of course. How silly of me to think otherwise.”

Freen tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “What else would it be? You’re my childhood friend, Becca. Practically like a sister to me. Not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.” Her voice was almost bored, like the answer was obvious. 

The words landed with a weight Becca hadn’t expected. That hit harder than it should have. She sucked in a breath, feeling it catch in her throat. 

‘Sister?’

The idea stung.

She couldn’t understand it, this wasn’t supposed to matter. 

She shouldn’t care, right? But the walls she’d carefully built around herself cracked just a little, and the tremor in her fingers was proof of it.

She swallowed hard, the words forced out despite the tightness in her throat. “I heard some things.” Becca asked, her voice trembling slightly, “Is it true that you’re... sleeping around whenever things aren’t going your way?” 

The question she hadn’t been able to stop swirling in her mind. 

It felt like the ground beneath her was shifting, as she waits with baited breath for the answer. It was as if she’s still clinging to the thought of her childhood friend still being present somewhere inside the girl in front of her.

The other girl looked away briefly, almost as if the question had caught her off guard.

“Maybe I am, what’s it to you?” Freen asks, her tone almost careless.

Becca’s heart dropped. 

“What’s it to me?” she repeated, her voice rising as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing right now. “So I’m just one of your targets now? One of the people you mess with when you’re bored or when your boyfriend’s not in the picture?”

Freen’s gaze flickered with a flash of irritation. “If you’re trying to accuse me of something then spit it out. I’m not here to play some dramatic game with you.”

Becca clenched her jaw, holding down the urge to lash out. “I’m just trying to figure out if I’m another one of your little side things, Freen. If you’re just playing with me the way you do with everyone else. Because honestly? It sure as hell feels like it.”

Freen crosses her arms over her chest. “And what if I am?” she said, her tone light but sharp enough to be cutting. “Would that really surprise you? People come and go, Becca. I don’t see the harm in enjoying them while they’re around.” Freen shrugs. “If you think that makes me a bad person, then maybe you’re right. I couldn’t really care less what you’d think. Or maybe you’re just upset you weren’t special enough to be an exception.”

Freen’s gaze didn’t waver, like she was completely unbothered by the weight of what she’d just said. There was no defensiveness in her, no hint of guilt—just a calm detachment that made Becca feel small in comparison. As if Freen had already decided everything for her, and the only thing left to do was watch Becca drown by herself.

It was as though Freen was daring her to say more, to take another step forward. But Becca wasn’t sure if she even wanted the answer anymore. It was all a game to Freen, wasn’t it? A game Becca was never meant to win.

She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to suppress the urge to lash out. It wasn’t just the fact that Freen was playing games—no, it was the fact that Becca was letting her. 

Freen just stood there indifferently. It was as if all this was nothing more than just idle chatter. Like Becca didn’t matter. 

And yet, there was something in the way Freen’s gaze lingered on her—not quite cold, not quite detached. It was barely noticeable, but enough to make Becca hesitate. Enough to spark her small, foolish hope that maybe there was something the other girl wouldn’t let her see.

The thought made Becca’s stomach twist. She didn’t want to hope for something that might not be there, but the ache in her chest made it hard to walk away. A part of her wanted to demand the answers Freen was too cruel to give. But another part—a quieter, more desperate part—just wanted to take whatever she could from this. From her.

The ache in her chest, that sharp, bitter sting, only made her more determined. She hated that feeling, hated how Freen made her feel small, insignificant, and worthless. But more than that, Becca hated how much she still wanted her, even when it was clear that Freen didn’t care the same way.

But maybe, just maybe, there is a way to even the playing field.

Without thinking too much, Becca took a slow step forward. Freen’s eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, it looked like she might say something—anything—but Becca didn’t wait for any more words from her. She closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t tender. 

It was angry, urgent, a claim—a way to take back whatever power she could have within their dynamic. And maybe, she can make Freen feel what she was going through. The kiss was hot, hungry, as if Becca could drown all her frustration in it. She pulled Freen closer, not caring that it was messy or impulsive. The other girl’s floral scent overwhelmed her senses. She needed to get even, to make her own mark before Freen could control the narrative any longer.

Freen froze at first, her body tense. But as the seconds stretched on, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she stood there, completely still, as Becca pressed harder, her hands sliding to Freen’s arms to keep her in place.

When Becca pulled back, her breath shallow and her lips still tingling, she didn’t let Freen speak. She leaned in just enough to keep the distance close, her voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the space between them, “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

The words lingered, almost too soft to catch, yet sharp enough to make the air feel thick. Her gaze stayed on the other girl’s plump lips before meeting her eyes in a silent dare.

Freen blinked, as if trying to decipher what just happened. Her chest rose and fell a little quicker, although her expression stayed neutral—almost too neutral. For a moment, Becca thought she saw hesitation in Freen’s eyes. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving only her usual indifference.

Freen opened her mouth, but no words came. She was silent for a beat too long, and then, in one smooth motion, she took a step back, creating a sliver of space between them. She crossed her arms, her gaze cool again, but there was an edge to it—a tension that hadn’t been there before.

"Aren’t you angry?" Freen’s voice was steady albeit a bit strained. She took a breath, her doe like eyes searching Becca’s as though unsure.

“Why would I be?” Becca muttered, her voice a little too steady, a little too sharp. She reached for the front of Freen’s shirt, fingers gripping the fabric with an intensity that made her knuckles turn white. “We’re just two friends messing around, right?” Her words came out flat, like she was trying to force them into something they weren’t, a dull edge to her tone as if trying to bury everything beneath it.

Her breath caught in her chest as she pulled Freen closer, eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly, before quickly darting away. There was a tightness in her jaw, as if the effort to hold back the words she really wanted to say was painful. She gripped Freen’s shirt harder, her nails pressing into the fabric, as though she were trying to dig into something real to keep from falling apart.

The silence between them thickened, and Becca’s chest tightened. She wanted to say more, something cutting, but all that came out was a strained, “No need to make it something else,” barely above a whisper. Her breath was shallow, her throat tight as if the words were stuck, but she wouldn’t let herself let go—not yet.

She didn’t give Freen the chance to break the silence. She pressed her lips to hers again, this time with more urgency, as if she could burn away the confusion, the hurt, the anger—all of it—just by kissing her.

Freen didn’t pull away. In fact, Becca felt her hands moving to grip Becca’s shoulders, pulling her in closer. Becca could feel Freen’s fingers digging into her skin, like she was trying to anchor herself, trying to figure out if this was a dream or just another one of the messes they had created.

Chapter Text

Becca barely registered the soft creak of the mattress beneath them as they stumbled back, still tangled in each other. Freen’s hands slid from Becca’s shoulders to her waist, her grip firm and desperate, like she was afraid Becca might slip away if she loosened it for even a second. Becca’s heart pounded in her chest, her lips moving hungrily against Freen’s, her mind a whirlwind of emotions she couldn’t even begin to untangle.

Freen’s breath hitched as she pulled away, just enough to look at Becca. Her pupils were wide, her lips parted and flushed, her expression teetering on the edge of hesitation. “Becca…” she began, her voice rough and uneven, but whatever she meant to say was lost when Becca leaned in again, silencing her with another kiss.

“Don’t,” Becca whispered against her lips, her voice trembling. She didn’t know what Freen was about to say, but she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not now. Not when her chest was still tight with the fear that this moment might slip through her fingers if she let it. “Just… don’t.”

Freen hesitated, her hands hovering for a moment before they found their way back to Becca’s hips. “You’re going to hate me for this,” Freen murmured, her forehead pressing against Becca’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

Becca’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile, though her grip on Freen’s shirt was unyielding, almost possessive. “Maybe,” she said, her tone light but edged with something sharper. “But I might hate you more if we stop now.”

Freen let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Guess I deserve that.”

Their eyes met, the air between them heavy and electric. Becca could see the turmoil in Freen’s gaze, the way she seemed to be wrestling with something too big to name. But whatever it was, Becca wasn’t ready to let it win. Not tonight. Not now.

She surged forward again, and this time Freen met her halfway, their mouths crashing together in a way that was less careful, less restrained. It was messy and frantic like they were trying to fill the silence with everything they couldn’t say.

Freen’s hands slid up Becca’s back, her touch sending a shiver down her spine. She felt the sharp edge of Freen’s teeth grazing her bottom lip, the way her fingers tightened against her, and it was almost too much and not enough all at once.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, Becca felt the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She fell first, Freen following, their bodies colliding with a soft thud against the mattress. Freen hovered over her, her hair falling like a curtain around them, her lips brushing Becca’s jawline, her breath warm and uneven against her skin.

Becca reached up, her fingers threading through Freen’s hair, pulling her down into another kiss. Her tongue brushed against Freen’s mouth and Freen gave in, a low sound escaping her throat that sent a shiver racing through Becca’s body.

Becca drew back, her breath catching in her throat. Freen's chest rose and fell, each exhale uneven. A pulse beat hard at the base of Freen's throat. Her fingers, still clinging unto Becca's leather top, trembled almost imperceptibly. Their faces hovered so close that Becca could feel the heat of Freen's skin, could count the tiny flecks of gold reflected in her eyes.

Her hands found Freen’s shoulders before swiftly flipping them over, causing the mattress to creak from their sudden movement. Becca straddled her hips, her thighs squeezing against Freen’s waist.

“What are you doing, Becca?” Freen whispered.

Becca held Freen’s gaze. “Figuring it out,” she said softly, almost a purr, as her fingers brushed softly against Freen’s jawline. “And I don’t think I want to stop.”

Her fingers trail the line of Freen’s collarbone, the curve of her neck. The soft rise and fall of Freen’s chest under her touch only spurring her on. Becca let her fingertips linger a little longer, her smirk growing as she watched Freen’s composure break.

“You’re not stopping me either,” Becca murmured, her voice low. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.

Freen didn’t answer. Instead, her hands found their way to Becca’s waist, gripping her like she was afraid to let go. There was a tremor in her touch, but her silence was all the permission Becca needed.

Becca’s hands slipped beneath the hem of Freen’s shirt, her fingertips skimming the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. Freen’s muscles contracted at the touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her grip on Becca’s waist tightened.

For a moment, they stayed like that, locked in a silent dance of touch and breath, each movement measured, each breath a shared rhythm. Becca’s heart pounded in her chest, her own breaths coming in shallow gasps as she fought to keep her composure. She could feel Freen’s heartbeat echoing her own, a tempo of desire and hesitation playing out beneath her hands.

Becca leaned down, her lips tracing a path along Freen’s jawline, her breath hot against the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She felt the shiver that ran through Freen, heard the soft catch in her breath as Becca’s teeth grazed her earlobe until she trailed down to her neck.

“Bec…” Freen’s voice was a whisper, a plea hanging in the air between them, heavy with need.

Becca responded by pressing her lips to the hollow at the base of Freen’s throat, tasting the salt on her skin, feeling the frantic pulse beneath her tongue. Freen’s hands slid up Becca’s back, her fingers tangling in Becca’s hair, pulling her closer as she arched into the touch.

Mine.

A mark by her pulse point.

Mine.

Another mark just inches away from Freen's collarbone.

“Becbec…” Freen lets out a breathy moan.

Becca frowns at the old nickname before looking up from Freen’s neck with a smirk. “I’m no longer your little Becbec, Freen.”

Becca’s lips returned to Freen’s skin, the taste of salt and sweetness mingling on her tongue as she continued marking the curve of Freen’s collarbone. Each press of her lips, each gentle bite, was a silent claim.

Becca’s hands moved higher, her thumbs brushing against the undersides of Freen’s breasts, her touch tentative, seeking permission. Freen’s response was immediate, her back arching off the bed, a low moan spilling from her lips. It was all the encouragement Becca needed. Her hands moved with more confidence, cupping Freen’s breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt, her thumbs teasing over the hardened peaks.

Their lips met again, fierce and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongues as they sought to claim and be claimed. Becca’s hands moved of their own accord, pulling at Freen’s shirt, breaking their kiss just long enough to yank it over her head, revealing the flushed skin beneath.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Becca lowered her head, her lips ghosting over the lace that covered Freen’s nipple, her tongue teasing her until Freen was a writhing mess beneath her, her hands gripping Becca’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscle there.

“Becca,” Freen gasped, her voice nothing more than a shaky whisper, her eyes dark and unfocused as she looked up at her, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Becca complied, her hand slipping beneath the lace, Freen’s breath hitched, her body tensing as Becca’s fingers found the hardened peak. Becca rolled it between her fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Freen, her back arching off the bed as she sought more of the sweet torment.

Becca’s fingers fumbled with the clasp of Freen’s bra, the combination of urgency and inexperience making the task more difficult than it should have been. She slid the straps down, the clasp finally giving away before pulling back and taking in the sight before her.

Freen’s breasts were perfect, her nipples a delicate shade of pink that stood out against her flushed skin. She leaned down, capturing one peak in her mouth, alternating between sucking and licking. She lavished attention on Freen’s breasts, her mouth and hands working in tandem to drive Freen to the brink of madness. Her hips bucked wildly against Becca, her body seeking friction, release.

Becca’s hands moved to Freen’s jeans, her fingers deftly undoing the button, the sound of the zipper echoing in the silence of the room. Freen lifted her hips, allowing Becca to slide the denim down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

With a deftness born of instinct, Becca hooked her fingers under the waistband of Freen’s panties and began to slide them down her legs. Freen lifted her hips to assist, her eyes dark with lust as she watched her childhood friend undress her.

Once Freen was completely bare, Becca paused to take in the sight, her heart pounding in her chest. Her gaze roaming over Freen’s revealed skin, taking in the sight with a reverence that bordered on worship. Freen was everything she had ever dreamed of—everything she had ever wanted but thought she could never have. And now, here she was, spread out beneath Becca like a feast waiting to be devoured. Her chest rose and fell with each uneven breath, her lips parted and swollen from their kisses. But most importantly, the doe-like eyes she loves the most are looking at her with a need beyond friendship.

The warm, moist sound of Freen’s desire filled the room as Becca stroked her fingers over her clit. Freen’s hips bucked beneath her touch, a low moan escaping her lips as Becca stared at her, enamored by the way her face contorted with pleasure.

“Becca, please,” Freen pleaded, her voice a tremulous murmur that sent a shock of yearning to Becca’s heart. She didn’t really know what Freen was asking for, but she wanted to give it to her—wanted to make her feel as good as she possibly could.

Becca slid one finger inside Freen, the other girl gasping as her walls clenched around the intrusion. Becca’s own body responded in kind, a rush of heat pooling between her legs at the sight of Freen falling apart beneath her. Just as Freen’s body finally adjusts to the sensation, Becca begins quickening her pace, sliding her finger in and out of the other girl with an accelerated tempo.

Freen’s hands found Becca’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscle there as she writhed beneath Becca’s touch. Her breaths came in short, sharp pants, her eyes locked onto Becca’s as if silently pleading for more.

Becca added another finger, stretching Freen in a way that made her cry out. She moved her fingers in a come-hither motion, searching for the spot that would send Freen over the edge.

Freen’s reaction was instantaneous when she found it. Her back arched off the bed as her jaw dropping wide in a muffled scream.

Becca’s fingers curled inside Freen, the rhythm of her thrusts steady and unrelenting. Freen’s walls fluttered around her fingers, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. But Becca was relentless, her gaze locked on Freen’s face as she chased the pleasure that danced just out of reach.

Becca whispered, "Come on, Freen. Let go for me.”

Becca’s thumb found her clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the thrusts of her fingers as Freen responded with a strangled moan. It was too much—the pleasure, the intensity of Becca’s gaze, the warmth of her breath against Freen’s skin.

With a final, desperate cry, Freen shattered, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Becca watched her come undone, her eyes dark with desire.

She withdrew her hand, her fingers glistening with Freen’s arousal. She tasted Freen as she brought them to her lips, an intoxicating taste with a mixture of sweetness and musk. Freen watched her, her eyes heavy-lidded.

As Becca lay beside Freen, her breath was slowing, her chest still rising and falling with the aftershocks of her release. Becca could feel the warmth of her skin against her own, the soft murmur of Freen's voice as she whispered Becca's name like a prayer or a plea—Becca couldn't be sure which.

For a long while, they stayed that way, wrapped in the quiet aftermath of what they just did, the world outside the bedroom door didn’t seem to matter. Becca's mind was a whirlwind of emotions—mostly ecstasy and disbelief. She had touched Freen in ways she had only ever fantasized about, had felt her shatter beneath her touch.

Freen's doe-like eyes met Becca's as she turned her head. "Stay with me," Freen said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Becca responded instantly, shifting closer and putting her arm over Freen's waist possessively. Freen's fingers traced idle patterns on Becca's arm, her touch light as a feather. Becca closed her eyes as she relishes the feeling. She was aware that they would soon have to deal with reality; will they still be friends after this? Lovers perhaps? She doesn’t know, and for now, she doesn’t care. In this stolen slice of time, they were simply two girls lost in each other, consequences be damned.

As the night wore on, Freen's body grew more relaxed, and Becca could sense her breathing becoming slower as sleep took over. Becca observed as Freen's features took on a silver tint from the moonlight's glow. She was more beautiful than Becca had allowed herself to admit. And in this temporary moment, she was hers.

Chapter Text

The room was still, the faint light of early morning seeping through the heavy curtains. Becca blinked her eyes open, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.

Heng’s guest room.

And then she felt it—the warmth pressed against her side, the soft rise and fall of breathing near her shoulder.

Freen.

The memory of last night came rushing back, sharp and vivid. Becca didn’t move, her body caught in a strange limbo between the weight of reality and Freen’s touch.

Turning her head slightly, Becca’s gaze settled on Freen’s sleeping form. Freen’s hair fell messily over her face, her lips slightly parted in the softest of breaths. She looked peaceful, vulnerable even, in a way Becca wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. For a moment, she allowed herself to stay there, drinking in the sight of her childhood best friend-turned-something-more.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the blanket, her body frozen as if moving too much might wake the person beside her. Freen stirred slightly in her sleep, her arm draped lazily over Becca’s waist tightening for a moment before falling slack again.

Becca shifted slightly, her body stiff. It wasn’t regret—no, she couldn’t call it that. But there was something jagged and restless in her chest, a weight pressing against her ribs, a whisper of what now? that refused to leave her alone.

Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t the kind of situation she knew how to navigate. The movies didn’t prepare you for what came after. Does she stay? Wait for Freen to wake up? Pretend everything was normal?

‘But what IS normal now?’

Her gaze drifted to Freen’s slightly parted lips. A small bruise, among many others, darkened the hollow of her neck—evidence of Becca’s lips—and heat bloomed in Becca’s cheeks. She averted her eyes, her chest growing tight again.

The room was quiet, but Becca could almost hear it—the low murmurs of voices in crowded hallways, the quick glances people shared when Freen walked by. A hand on Freen’s arm in the cafeteria. The way someone’s eyes lingered on her lips when she thought no one was looking. The tilt of Freen’s head as she leaned in close to whisper something, leaving a flushed, breathless face in her wake. Becca didn’t need the rumors to imagine it. The proof was always there in the stolen glances that seemed to follow Freen everywhere.

Her grip tightened on the blanket, twisting it between her fingers until her knuckles turned white. Something cold and heavy unfurled in her stomach, making it hard to sit still. She closed her eyes, but the images only sharpened—Freen’s lips on someone else’s, the way she touched them like it was effortless, like she didn’t need to think about it.

Becca’s stomach sank as a new thought struck her: last night was probably just another routine for Freen. It had felt monumental for Becca, beautiful even, like her entire world had shifted, but for Freen? It was probably nothing. Just another person she slept with. What’s worse is that Becca was aware of it, but she let it happen anyway. Heck, she initiated it.

The air felt thin, her breaths shallow and uneven. She shifted, trying to calm the restless rhythm of her heart, but the weight on her chest refused to lift.

The room blurred slightly as Becca blinked, her thoughts colliding like waves crashing against the shore—each one dragging her further under. The heat of Freen’s skin, the faint scent of her hair, the memory of Freen’s voice and the way it had undone her last night... it all clung to her, pulling her deeper into this moment even as her mind screamed at her to leave.

‘Don’t look.’

But her gaze lingered.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe nothing. Maybe they’d laugh it off and pretend it hadn’t happened. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe Freen would give her that knowing smirk, tilt her head just so, and drag her right back into whatever this was.

She hadn’t thought about what came next. She hadn’t wanted to. Last night wasn’t about consequences; it was about giving in. At least for her. And maybe—just maybe—it was the last time it would happen.

Becca’s chest tightened at the thought, but she pushed it aside.

‘You can’t stay here.’

The thought came uninvited, cold and clear.

Carefully, she slid out from under Freen’s arm, her movements slow. Freen didn’t stir, her breathing steady and even. Becca stood by the bed for a moment, looking down at her.

The morning light softened Freen’s sharp edges, made her look almost innocent. Becca’s fingers itched with the urge to reach out, to brush that stray strand of hair from her face. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned and began gathering her things.

Her breath hitched when she spotted her phone on the nightstand. For a brief second, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen.

‘What would I even say?’ she thought. The idea of leaving a note, of putting this into words, felt impossible.

Her pink fur coat was draped over the chair by the desk. She pulled it on, her movements deliberate but mechanical. She avoided the mirror, afraid of what she’d see there—the flushed skin, the faint trace of mascara smudged under her eyes.

She tried to ignore the warmth of the bed, the quiet comfort of having someone so close.

The temptation to stay was sharp.

The door was only a few steps away, but it felt like crossing a battlefield. Her hand closed around the doorknob, and she hesitated, glancing back. Freen stirred slightly, her hand brushing the empty space where Becca had been.

Becca’s grip tightened on the doorknob. She bit her lip hard enough to sting, forcing her feet to move. The click of the door shutting behind her echoed in the quiet hallway, louder than it should have been.

The sound of her own footsteps on the pavement felt too loud as if they were trying to drown out the questions that swam in her mind. ‘What happens now?’

Would this slip between them—unspoken, unexamined—just disappear into nothingness? Becca’s stomach twisted at the thought. She wasn’t sure if she wanted answers or silence, clarity or the comfort of pretending it hadn’t happened.

Her gaze fell to the distant outline of the neighborhood, the sun glinting off the windows of other homes, ordinary and untouched by the weight of the night.

‘Perhaps forgetting this was for the best.’

But what came next felt uncertain. She’d left a door wide open and had no idea how either of them would step through it.

xXXXx

Freen’s POV

A few hours later…

Freen woke slowly, the heaviness of sleep clinging to her. Her body felt warm and pleasantly sore, her lips faintly tingling as flashes of the night before drifted back to her. For a moment, she lay there, staring at the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains.

Becca.

Her chest swelled at the thought. She reached out, fingers brushing the sheets where Becca should have been. But all she felt was cold fabric.

Freen frowned, pushing herself upright. She glanced around the room, her brows furrowing. The bed was empty, the blankets thrown aside in a way that felt hurried. Becca’s pink fur coat, which had been draped over the chair last night, was gone.

A flicker of unease crept up her spine. She rubbed her eyes and stood, her feet cold against the hardwood floor as she hurriedly put on her clothes.

The faint scent of Becca’s shampoo lingered in the air. Freen’s chest tightened as she scanned the room again, half-expecting Becca to appear from the bathroom or the hallway with some excuse for why she wasn’t still beside her.

However, the silence continued.

Her bare feet touched the cool hardwood floor, she rubbed her arms as she entered the corridor.

The aftermath of the party greeted her like a hangover. Red plastic cups and crumpled napkins littered the hallway. A chair near the wall was on its side, probably caused by one of the drunk party-goers. The air was heavy with the faint smell of stale beer and something somewhat sweet, like soda that had been spilled.

As she made her way through the house, her unease grew with every empty room her gaze swept over.

The kitchen was no better. Plates with half-eaten slices of cake sat abandoned on the counter, and a sticky pool of something neon-colored gleamed faintly in the morning light. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, and a half-full bottle of vodka stood precariously close to the edge of the table.

Becca was nowhere to be seen.

She walked over to the front door, her hand pausing on the knob before turning it, only to find it unlocked.

She felt the knot in her chest tighten. She’s really gone.

Freen stood there for a moment, letting reality sink in. She let go of the doorknob and turned back, pacing through the house as if she might have missed something—a note, a message, a sign that Becca hadn’t simply left her.

Was it because she missed Becca? She could almost feel the warmth of her voice, her gentle touches, leaving a familiar scent of vanilla and soft fabric clinging to her senses. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard, trying to push the thought down.

Or was it because, for once, she had been the one left behind?

The words tasted bitter, sour like a sharp sting at the back of her throat. She bit her lip, the sound of her own breathing felt loud, too loud, in the quiet stillness of the living room.

She’d always been the first to leave. It had always been easier that way, easier to disappear before the weight of meaning from last night’s ministrations settled in.

But this time, it had felt different.

The air in the room felt colder now.

She straightened, running a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as the frustration bubbled over. Last night was just a mistake—a lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness.

And yet, standing here alone, she couldn’t ignore the weight in her chest or the bitter taste in her mouth.

A small laugh escaped her lips. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to being the one left behind, the one feeling hollow and raw. People wanted her—they stayed, they chased. Freen’s pride burned at the realization, stinging and raw, like a fresh cut. She wasn’t just upset; she was humiliated. Left alone, discarded—something she never thought she’d feel, let alone because of Becca.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’

Pressing her palms into her knees, she sat down on the couch's edge, as though the pressure would somehow keep her steady.

She thought of Becca, her kisses,how she had gazed at her with something dangerously close to trust. It felt different. And although she didn’t want to admit it, it scared her.

Because Freen knew she’d crossed a line. And Becca’s absence only made her hunger for more.

‘This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?’

She echoed Becca’s words.

That should have been a relief. No expectations, no strings. But instead, it gnawed at Freen. If it didn’t mean anything, then why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? Why did it feel like something had shifted between them, like she’d seen a part of Becca she was never meant to?

Her stomach twisted. Maybe Becca was just curious, she reasoned. Just wanted to try things —new things, physical things, without the weight of commitment. Freen could almost convince herself of that. Almost. Because the way Becca had kissed her last night wasn’t casual. It wasn’t an experiment. It was… electric, raw, and so achingly vulnerable that it made Freen’s chest tighten all over again.

She hated it. Hated how badly she wanted more.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her brows furrowing as the thoughts tangled in her head. Was that all this was for Becca? A way to explore without consequences? She bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe that’s what Freen should do, too. Keep it light. Play along. Give Becca what she wanted— what they both wanted —and leave it at that.

“Don’t be stupid,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to dislodge the yearning building in her ribcage. Becca was her friend—her best friend. It was already messy enough. If she gave in, if she kept giving in, it would only get worse. Complicated. Dangerous.

But then her mind flickered back to Becca’s laugh, her dimpled smile, the way her body had fit so perfectly against Freen’s. Her breathing hitched, and she pressed her palms harder into her knees, the pressure grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled.

Maybe Becca didn’t want more. Maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe Freen could be okay with just the physical part of it—the kisses, the heat, the connection that buzzed through her veins when they touched. Maybe she could keep it simple.

Her jaw tightened as a flicker of guilt crept into the edges of her thoughts, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish the longing that burned low in her stomach. Becca had said it didn’t have to mean anything. Freen could hold onto that, couldn’t she?

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The logical part of her said to avoid Becca, to push her away before things got too far. But the hunger—the craving for more of her childhood friend—was louder, and Freen both hated and loved how easily it drowned out reason.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, and sat back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The lines had already blurred, and Freen didn’t know how to untangle them.

Maybe she didn’t even want to.

xXXXx

A few days later…

The morning sun spilled golden light across the courtyard, casting everything in its glow as students gathered in groups, their laughter and chatter blending into the usual symphony of morning routines. The air was warm, crisp with the promise of another day, but Freen couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone would notice her.

She leaned against the brick wall near the entrance, arms crossed over her chest as she scanned the crowd. Her phone was in her hand, but the screen might as well have been blank; her thoughts were elsewhere.

A familiar voice broke through the sound of sneakers scuffing on pavement.

“Hey, Freen.”

Freen looked up to see Friend approaching.

“Hey.”

Friend set her back down before leaning against the table next to her.

“You know you’ve got a hickey, right?”

She froze. Her hand flew to her neck, grazing the red mark. The makeup hadn’t been enough.

“It’s not—” she started.

Friend grinned wider, crossing her arms and giving Freen a once-over. “Oh, honey. It is. You really should’ve tried harder to cover that up.”

Freen’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. She dropped her hand, but her body language betrayed her—arms tighter across her chest, shoulders a little more rigid.

“Whatever,” she said, but her words came out sharp and clipped.

Before Friend could push it further, Nam’s voice rang through the air.

“Hey, you two,” she said smoothly as she walked over with her usual stride, her sunglasses low on her nose.

“Looks like Freen’s having a Monday crisis,” Nam teased, Heng following her closely from behind.

“What’s the tea?” He chimed in.

Freen could feel their eyes on her, curious and amused. She turned her face just slightly toward the horizon, pretending to study a distant bird flying across the sky as though she could will the awkwardness away.

“Wait a second,” Nam said, stepping a little closer. “What’s going on? Is there a story here?”

Heng’s grin widened, looking far too interested now. His gaze flicked between the three of them as if he were already enjoying it.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked.

Her face tensed, and her shoulders stiffened. She couldn’t stop the quick flash of panic that sparked in her chest.

Freen turned back toward them, meeting Heng’s gaze with forced calm. “There IS no guy,” she said quickly, too quickly.

Her friends share incredulous looks. Friend narrowed her eyes, stepping closer.

“Uh-huh,” she teases. “Freen Sarocha not getting laid after a party? Pigs might as well fly.”

“You’re reading too much into it.” she said, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders.

She started toward the school entrance, hoping the conversation would drop, but Heng’s sharp eyes caught something—or someone—off to the side. His expression shifted into something mischievous.

“Hey, isn’t that Becca over there?”

Freen froze mid-step, her stomach twisting again, but this time with a different kind of anxiety. She followed Heng’s gaze toward the entrance, and there she was—Becca, standing with her bag slung casually over one shoulder, her hair catching the morning sunlight, her easy smile perfect and effortless as always.

“She’s got that hot nerd look,” Heng said, half to himself, half to the group. “You know, some of my guy friends think she’s hot. Like, really hot.”

His words crawled like insects under Freen's skin, causing her muscles to tighten up.

“Becca Armstrong? That Becca?” Nam asked.

Heng lowered his voice and grinned. “Yeah, her. They’re betting on who can get her to bed first. I mean, it’s stupid, but you know how they are. She’s usually so quiet, right? But damn, she was so hot performing at the last party. It’s like she’s got this whole other vibe no one expected.”

Freen’s stomach twisted violently, her body tensing. Her breath hitched, and her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. A rush of heat was rising to her face, but the fire wasn’t embarrassment—it was fury.

Nam scrunches her face with disgust. “Seriously?”

Heng shrugged, still grinning. “Relax, it’s not like I’m in on it. Just thought it was funny. You’ve got to admit, Becca’s the last person you’d expect to end up in something like that. But, hey, quiet girls surprise you sometimes.”

“Who’s making the bet?” Freen’s voice came out cold and sharp.

Heng blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, Freen, relax. It’s not that deep. They’re just messing around. Nobody’s actually gonna—”

“Who?” Freen cut him off, her eyes locked on his.

Heng hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh... Brian, I think? Maybe Ethan? I didn’t really catch all the details. Do you want me to—”

“Don’t,” Freen interrupted. She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing. “Don’t let me hear you—or anyone else—talking about her like that again. And if I find out someone’s stupid enough to try something, they’ll regret it. Clear?”

Friend gawked at her, speechless, while Heng shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her glare. “Yeah, yeah. Got it. Whatever you say, Freen,” he mumbled, his bravado quickly evaporating.

Freen straightened, spinning on her heel without another word. Her jaw was clenched so tight it sent a dull ache through her temples. The thought of someone else even daring to touch Becca, to see her the way Freen had—it set her blood on fire with something dark she refused to name.

xXXXx

The first period had been a breeze—background noise to Freen’s thoughts as she moved through the halls with that effortless stride everyone recognized. Her chin was high, her movements precise, as if the world around her existed solely to make space for her.

But her composure nearly cracked as she entered the chemistry lab.

Becca was already there, seated at their table. Strands of hair fell gently over her cheek as the morning light filtered through the window, catching on her profile as if she belonged in a painting—soft, impossible to look away from.

Freen froze for half a second before forcing herself forward, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag.

She slid into the chair beside Becca, dropping her bag on the table with just enough weight to draw attention. Becca didn’t look up, her pen gliding across the page as if Freen hadn’t even sat down.

Freen leaned back in her seat, her arm draping casually over the edge of the table, legs crossed beneath it. Her gaze flicked to Becca, unbidden, drawn to the curve of her lips, the faint furrow of concentration in her brow.

How could she make something so mundane look so captivating?

Freen bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the sudden craving that curled through her like smoke—this need to reach out, to pull Becca’s attention onto her and keep it there.

“Morning,” Freen said, her voice a low, smooth hum.

Becca’s pen paused for half a second before moving again, the interruption barely registering.

Freen blinked, her smirk faltering for an imperceptible moment before she tilted her head, letting her hair cascade over one shoulder like it was a scene she’d rehearsed a thousand times.

She turned slightly in her chair, her movements fluid, as if she were simply adjusting herself and not angling for a better look at the girl beside her. Becca was close enough that Freen could see the faint crease in her brow, the curve of her lips pressed in focus. Too close and yet, somehow, too far.

Freen’s fingers drummed the desk again, her nails catching the light.

“Quiet today,” she murmured, her words lilting, carrying just enough weight to suggest they weren’t as casual as they seemed.

This time, Becca looked up, her eyes meeting Freen’s for what felt like a split second. The look was unreadable, guarded, uninterested, or maybe something else entirely. Before Freen could figure it out, Becca returned to her notebook.

Freen’s jaw clenched as she looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk with just a little force.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting herself with a loud scrape of the chair against the floor. If Becca wouldn’t look at her, she’d make her presence impossible to ignore.

Freen exhaled slowly through her nose, her pulse beating a little too fast for her liking. She wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to people not falling in line, not when she knew she could own a room without even trying.

And yet, here she was, sitting next to someone who acted as if she were the invisible one.

But then Becca’s gaze flicked upward—just briefly—towards Freen.

Her eyes landed on her neck.

The faint mark just above Freen’s collarbone peeked out from under her shirt, stark against her skin. Becca froze, her pen hovering mid-word.

Her mark.

Freen knew the exact moment she recognized it. Becca’s lips pressed together into a line that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite anything at all. But her gaze lingered, warm and sharp all at once, like she was daring Freen to acknowledge it.

Becca leaned back in her chair. “Nice,” she murmured, her voice low.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Becca smirked faintly, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Nothing. Just wondering if anyone’s asked about it yet.”

Freen rolls her eyes. “Why would they?”

“Hmm,” Becca gazes at her for a moment too long before she shrugging, feigning disinterest. “No reason. It’s just… obvious.”

Freen felt her face heat up. She adjusted her collar, pulling it higher.

“It’s not a big deal,” she muttered.

“Sure,” Becca said lightly.

Becca returned her focus to her notebook, acting as if nothing had happened.

Freen readjusted her collar once more, making sure it at least covered the majority of it. And though she hated to admit it, a part of her didn’t want to hide it at all.

The sound of the classroom door creaking open drew everyone's attention. Mr. Sanchez strode in, balancing a stack of papers and his ever-present mug of coffee.

“Good morning, everyone. I trust you all had a productive weekend?” he sets the papers down with a dull thud before surveying the room with a knowing smile. “Or at least managed to survive it?”

A few chuckles erupted in the room. Freen didn’t join in.

Her gaze flickered toward Becca, who was still engrossed in her notebook, pen moving steadily across the page.

Casually, she tilted her chair back on two legs, twirling her pen between her fingers. “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “what are we working on today?”

Becca glanced at her briefly, unimpressed. “We’re reviewing last week’s data. You’d know that if you paid attention.”

Freen leaned forward, planting her chair firmly on the floor as she crossed her arms on the table. Her voice dropped, teasing. “I’m paying attention now. Especially to you.”

Becca’s pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint smudge of ink on the page. Her thumb skims on the ink as she frowns. A faint flush crept up her neck, subtle but it managed to catch Freen’s attention.

Bingo.

Mr. Sanchez's words broke the silence before she could fully appreciate the moment. "Freen, are you going to give us your time today?"

Freen straightened instantly, her lips curling into an easy smile as she turned toward the front of the room. “Absolutely, Mr. Sanchez,” she replied smoothly.

A ripple of laughter spread through the class, and even Becca shook her head slightly, muttering something under her breath that Freen couldn’t quite catch.

But it didn’t matter. Freen leaned back in her seat as she stole another glance at Becca.

The classroom buzzed faintly with the hum of Mr. Sanchez’s lecture, his voice blending into the background as he outlined equations on the whiteboard. Freen pretended to take notes, but her attention was nowhere near the lesson.

Instead, it was drawn to the girl beside her.

Her partner was focused, eyes sharp as they followed Mr. Sanchez’s writing. The way Becca’s brow furrowed as she focused, her lips slightly parted in quiet thought, sent a sharp ache through Freen. She couldn’t help but trace the line of her jaw, the way her hair cascaded over one shoulder. Every small movement felt like a teasing dance that made Freen’s chest feel too tight, her skin too warm. She bit her lip, struggling to resist the urge to reach out, to close the distance between them and see if Becca’s skin felt as soft as it looked. The hunger swelled in her—hot, sharp, and relentless—pushing against the careful walls of reason she tried to maintain.

God, she’s beautiful.

Freen shifted in her seat, heat blooming in her chest and spreading lower between her legs. She uncrossed and recrossed her thighs, the movement subtle. She could feel her pulse quicken, the ache of wanting clawing at her.

Mr. Sanchez’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Freen, care to explain the relationship between these two variables?”

Freen snapped out of her reverie and blinked. Her confidence snapped back like a shield as she straightened in her seat. “Uh, sure,” she said smoothly, as though she hadn’t just been caught fantasizing. “They have an inverse relationship. The other falls when the first rises.”

Mr. Sanchez nodded after briefly narrowing his gaze. “Lucky guess,” he muttered, turning back to the board.

A few stifled laughs broke out around the room. Becca shook her head again, muttering under her breath, but Freen caught it this time:

“Unbelievable.”

Freen grinned, leaning back in her chair as if she owned the moment.

Mr. Sanchez cleared his throat, and the room settled back into silence. He looked around the classroom as he tapped the corner of his desk with his finger. "Remember that next week is the deadline for your chemistry presentations. You understand that I want originality and thoroughness—no sloppy last-minute attempts."

A chorus of groans rippled through the classroom, but Freen’s smirk only deepened.

‘A chance.’

“Becbec,” she drawled her voice low enough to stay under Mr. Sanchez’s radar.

Becca let out a quiet sigh, her lips pressing into a thin line as she turned to Freen, her sideways glance teetering between mild annoyance and curiosity. “What now?”

"It's probably a good idea to start our project soon. We wouldn't want to fall into the 'rushed job' category that Mr. Sanchez is always grumbling about."

Becca arched an eyebrow. "When did you have in mind?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Freen replied, "How about today after school? We might establish a daily routine—get some snacks, discuss ideas, etc. Make it a sleepover, maybe? All for efficiency, of course" She leaned in, her tone dropping slightly.

 “A sleepover? You’re joking.” Becca said giving her a flat look.

“Why not?” Freen countered, leaning back. "I take the project seriously. And besides, it could be... fun.”

“You mean fun for you,” Becca mumbled.

“Come on,” Freen replied, her tone shifting to something almost persuasive. “Think about it. If we’re in the same place, we’ll actually focus instead of wasting time going back and forth. Less hassle.”

Becca sighed, tapping her pen against her notebook. “And I suppose you’re volunteering your place?”

“Me? My place?” she said, voice light and airy. She rested her other hand on her chin, regarding Becca with mock contemplation. “With Heng crashing on my couch and Friend randomly showing up unannounced? Not exactly ideal for a brainstorming session.”

She let the words sit there, watching Becca from the corner of her eye, gauging the slight shift in her expression—the flicker of hesitation, the way her shoulders tensed just enough to give it away.

Freen leaned in a little closer, folding her hand against her chin, studying Becca like she could see all the thoughts in her head. Her voice dropped, sharper now.

“But yours,” she added smoothly, “sounds perfect. Quiet. Comfortable. Private.”

The air between them felt tighter now. It was just the two of them at the table, but the space felt far more crowded. Freen could almost feel Becca’s pulse, could almost see her debating, calculating.

Becca’s eyes darted briefly to her pen, then back to Freen, cold and guarded. “Uh-huh,” she said, the sharp note of doubt still threading into her voice.

Freen could feel it—the pull, the way the suggestion had planted itself like a question in the air. She could almost see the exact moment Becca’s shoulders fought to stay loose, to stay composed. There was no need to rush, no need to press harder. Freen already knew how to let a suggestion fester, how to make it crawl into a person’s thoughts, uninvited but impossible to shake.

The window light hit Becca’s hair in a way that made her look sharp, cool, closed off—everything Freen couldn’t have, and everything she wanted to test. Her pride clung to her confidence, but the faintest thread of discomfort tugged at her, just beneath the surface.

Freen let her smirk linger, eyes steady on Becca. “Think about it.”

Finally, Becca sighed, the resistance in her shoulders softening just slightly. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to fail this project.”

“Perfect,” Freen responded. She twirled her pen between her fingers smugly. “It’s a date, then.”

Becca gave her a glare. “It’s not a date.”

Freen leaned closer, her voice a playful whisper. “Whatever you say Becbec.”

Her smirk lingered for just a moment too long as she leaned back in her seat, fingers still twirling the pen with that practiced, lazy grace.

Her mind drifted to the idea of Becca in her space, the two of them alone, just the quiet sound of breathing and the weight of the air around them. Freen’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, but it lingered there—a reminder that these games she played came with consequences. She thought of how the warmth of Becca’s body could settle beside her, how easy it would be to reach for her again, to press close until the sharpness of pride and hesitation crumbled into something much softer.

But most importantly, she would have Becca all to herself.

Her fingers gripped the pen tighter as her thoughts swam, words coiling in the depths of her mind. 

It wasn’t just a plan or an invitation. It was a game, a challenge, a dangerous line they kept crossing. She could feel it—her pride and desire blending, the heat of victory and the thrill of having that kind of hold over someone.

The idea clung to her. She wanted to see if Becca would bite, if she’d linger, if she’d let herself get caught just enough to let the lines blur.

‘And next time, you won’t leave so easily.’

Chapter Text

Becca's fingers remained hovering over the fretboard, the strings still trembling under her fingers.

Jamie sets his bass guitar on its stand, “That's it for today. Excellent run, but we're not nearly prepared for competition."

Becca took a quick look at the wall clock: 5:45 pm. Practice had started right after school ended at 3:30, and she could feel the ache in her hands from two hours of nonstop playing.

“Yeah, Jamie,” Jane muttered as she leaned her electric guitar against the amp. “Maybe we’d be ready if you didn’t keep rushing the tempo in the second verse.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, blame the bassist. Typical guitarist move.”

“Jane’s right,” Irin said from behind the drum kit, spinning a stick in her hand. “You were a little off. And if we’re messing up during practice, what do you think’s gonna happen on stage?”

Jamie held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll work on it. But can we all agree the instrumental break still sounds like a mess?”

“It’s not that bad,” Gale said, carefully closing his keyboard cover. “But yeah, we definitely need more time to clean it up.”

“More time?” Becca asked, wiping her neck with a towel. “What are we talking about here?”

“Weekend practices,” Irin said bluntly, resting her drumsticks on her knees. “It’s the only way we’re gonna pull this off. Two weeks isn’t much time.”

Becca frowned. “Weekend practices? Seriously?”

"You have a better idea?" Gale asked, crossing his arms. "We can't keep coasting. You've seen the videos of our competition, and they're not some middle school garage band."

“And their lead singer’s practically a rock star already,” Jamie added, adjusting the strap on his bass.

Becca lets out a sigh. Although she detested losing her weekends, she had to admit they were correct. "Alright. Not at 8 a.m. I’m not a morning person.”

“11 a.m.?” Jane suggested with a small smile.

“Deal,” Becca said, slinging her guitar over her shoulder. 

A mixture of nerves and excitement filled the room as they started to pack up their instruments. Even though Becca adored the band, her mind kept going elsewhere.

She couldn't help but worry if Freen would be waiting for her just before she exited the music room door.

And lo and behold, she did.

Freen stood leaning against the lockers just a short distance from the music room, arms crossed and her usual aloof expression in place. She seemed perfectly at ease, but the sight of her in this unfamiliar spot—away from her usual crowd—was enough to raise eyebrows.

Freen’s gaze locked onto Becca as soon as the music room door opened, her smirk softening into something a little more playful.

Becca blinked in surprise. She had expected Freen to show up at her house later, not... this.

Jamie, walking behind her, slowed to a halt. “What’s Freen doing here?” he asked, his voice low but laced with surprise.

Irin, still packing her drumsticks, glanced toward the door and raised an eyebrow. “Good question.”

Gale shrugged. “Maybe she’s looking for trouble.”

Becca couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even though she also wondered why Freen was waiting around like this.

“Becca?” Jamie’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and he looked at her expectantly.

Becca sighed, brushing past him with a small, resigned smile. “She’s here for me.”

“For you?” Jamie repeated.

“We’re working on a chemistry project together.”

The words hung in the air, and the rest of the band came to a sudden stop.

“Freen?” Irin asked, a note of disbelief in her voice. “Doing a school project?”

“Guess everyone has their first time,” Jane commented, raising an eyebrow.

Gale’s lips twitched in a smirk. “Or maybe she’s trying to join the band. Who knows?”

Becca shot him a brief look but didn’t bother responding. She walked toward Freen, who stood there, completely unfazed by the attention.

"What's going on? You mentioned that we would meet later at my house."

Freen shrugged nonchalantly. “Changed my mind. Figured I’d save you the trip.”

“By showing up here?” Becca said, trying not to sound too surprised.

Freen gave a sly grin. “Call it initiative.”

Behind Becca, the band still lingered, their curiosity clear. She could feel their stares but chose not to acknowledge them. She adjusted the strap on her bag and turned back to her bandmates. “Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Freen stepped aside, allowing Becca to lead the way. “After you.” she said coolly.

Becca and Freen walked side by side toward the parking lot, the faint click of their footsteps the only sound between them. The air was cool, a light breeze ruffling the strands of Becca’s hair, but it didn’t do anything to ease the heat building inside her. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, willing herself not to glance at Freen, though she could feel her presence like a weight beside her.

She had barely said a word since band practice ended, keeping her answers short and her voice distant. Freen, as usual, didn’t seem to mind. She walked with her usual stride, hands casually shoved in her pockets.

They reached the parking lot, and Becca could see Freen’s car parked at the far end. Becca’s stomach tightened, the familiar knot of nerves settling in. She wasn't sure why, but she felt exposed being in a confined space with Freen again, alone. Everything was still fresh in her mind, despite her best efforts to pretend nothing had happened.

They reached the car, and without saying anything, Becca opened the passenger door and climbed in. The interior of the car was cool and quiet, and for a brief moment, Becca felt herself relax—just a little. She pulled the seatbelt across her chest, her fingers trembling slightly, but she ignored it.

Without a word, Freen climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. As they left the lot and entered the street, Becca kept gazing out the window, taking in the world as it whizzed by in a blur. She couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at the girl beside her.

It bothered her, how easily Freen seemed to slip back into their usual dynamic, as if the night they’d shared hadn’t left any mark. Was she really that unaffected?

She noticed the way Freen gripped the steering wheel, her posture relaxed and her gaze forward. There was nothing in her expression to indicate that anything had changed between them. She was the same as always—confident, calm.

“What’s your deal?”

“Hm?”

Becca hesitated, fingers curling against her jeans. “You’re acting like nothing happened.”

Freen’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but Becca didn’t miss the way her grip tightened briefly. She didn’t reply right away, her jaw shifting as if she were chewing over her words. At last, she turned to face Becca, a smile forming on her lips. "What are you expecting me to do? Carry a neon sign that reads, ‘Hey, we hooked up,’ around?"

Becca’s cheeks burned. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just... odd.”

Freen’s gaze flicked toward her briefly. “Odd how?”

Becca chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “You’re just... so normal about it.”

Freen let out a soft laugh. “You’re the one who said we’re just messing around,” she pointed out, her tone almost teasing. “I thought I was just... following your lead.”

The words made Becca’s chest tighten. She turned her head to the window, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. It felt like Freen had thrown her own words back at her, and she hated how much it stung. "Yes, I did," she acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean—"

“Doesn’t mean what?” Freen pressed gently.

Becca shook her head. She was unable to articulate the jumble of messy emotions churning inside her: the confusion, the vulnerability, the stupid, hopeless ache for something she’d told herself she didn’t need.

When they finally reached Becca's driveway, Freen stopped the car and turned off the engine. "Are you alright?" She inquired.

With a tentative nod, Becca unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. "Yeah," she murmured hastily as she exited the vehicle.

They walked up the driveway as Freen surveyed Becca's front yard. "I haven't been here in years," she remarked, "And not much has changed at your place."

Becca shot her a glance, her hand fumbling for the keys in her bag. “Yeah, well, it’s not like we were trying to keep up with the times.”

As Becca unlocked the door and pushed it open, the faint hum of activity greeted them. Her mother, Rawee, stood in the doorway, a chic blazer slung over her shoulders. Her piercing yet gentle gaze fell on the two girls as soon as the door opened.

“Oh, Freen!” Rawee exclaimed. Her heels clicked lightly on the floor as she approached. "So much time has passed. You've grown into such a beautiful young lady.”

Freen smiled, the usual confidence in her demeanor softening into something more genuine. “Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong. It’s good to see you again.”

With curiousity in her eyes, Rawee's eyes darted between them. "I had no idea you two were still hanging out."

Becca rubbed the back of her neck. “Yes.” She stepped aside to allow Freen to enter. "School project, she's sleeping over."

Rawee stared at them inquisitively for a minute longer before a kind smile spread across her face. "Well, it's good to see you two getting back in touch. It’s nice to have familiar faces around.” She took a step back and motioned for them to enter.

Freen followed Becca into the house, her eyes wandering around the space.

Rawee's eyes glistened, "You know, Becca used to cry every time you left after a sleepover. She was so against you leaving, I had to always buy her ice cream to soothe her.

“Mom!” Becca groaned, her face instantly flushing. She shot Freen a mortified look before glaring at her mother. “Why would you even bring that up?”

Freen laughed, “Really? You didn’t tell me about this.”

Becca crossed her arms, her cheeks still burning. “It’s not a big deal. I was maybe five years old?”

Rawee laughed, obviously taking pleasure in her daughter's embarassment. “You were nine, actually.”

“Mom!”

Freen grinned, nudging Becca lightly. “I feel honored, honestly. Guess I’ve always been hard to say goodbye to.”

Becca rolled her eyes, “Can we please just move on?”

“Of course, of course,” Rawee said, waving her hand dismissively. “You girls get to your project. I’ll leave you be.”

As Rawee adjusted the strap of her bag, she paused, an idea sparking in her mind. “You know,” she started, looking at Freen, “it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen your dad, Freen. How is Phat doing these days?”

“Busy with work, as always. He and my stepmom just got back from a trip to Japan last week.”

Rawee’s smile widened. “That’s wonderful to hear. You should tell him I said hello—and that I’d love for us to all have dinner sometime. It’d be nice to catch up.”

Becca’s eyes darted between her mom and Freen, her stomach flipping at the thought of their families meeting. "Mom, isn't your schedule already packed?” She tried to shift the topic by casually interjecting.

"Nonsense. I'll find time. What about this weekend? Do you suppose your stepmother and father would be available, Freen?"

“I can ask. I’m sure they’d be happy to come.”

"Excellent!” Rawee, obviously happy with herself, clasped her hands together. “We'll arrange a formal reunion, and I'll take care of the cooking. It’ll be nice to have a full house for once.” She turned to Becca, her smile softening. “You should help me plan the menu, sweetie.”

Becca forced a smile, “Sure, Mom.”

“Great, I really need to leave.” Rawee walked to the door. "I'll leave you two in charge of the house."

“Take care, Mrs. Armstrong,” Freen replied.

The sound of Rawee's heels clicking against the driveway faded into the evening air as she waved goodbye. Becca and Freen stood in the now-quiet living room as the door closed behind her.

Becca let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and turned to Freen. “Well, that happened.”

Freen leaned closer to Becca, her voice low. “You know, if you cry when I leave tonight, I’ll totally understand.”

Becca groaned, shoving Freen lightly toward the living room. “Don’t push your luck.”

Freen chuckled and plopped down on the couch, looking completely at ease. “Guess we’ll just have to survive tonight first. Chemistry project, remember?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Becca set her bag down on the coffee table and pulled out her chemistry textbook, notebook, and the materials they’d need for their project. Freen, still sprawled comfortably on the couch, watched her with a lopsided grin.

“You’re really into this, huh?” Freen teased, leaning forward to grab a pen from Becca’s pile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since... ever.”

Becca shot her a look. “Just because you coast through life doesn’t mean we all can,” she said, flipping open her notebook to a neatly written outline. “We have to figure out how to present our findings on molecular bonds. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Freen leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against Becca’s as she peered at the notebook. “Relax. We’ll nail it. You’re the brains, and I’m... well, I’m here for moral support.”

“Yeah, because that’s helpful.”

They began working, bouncing ideas back and forth about how to structure their presentation. Freen surprised Becca by offering a few solid points, and despite herself, Becca found it easy to fall into a rhythm with her.

“See?” Freen said after a particularly insightful comment. "I am more than just a pretty face."

Becca opened her lips to respond, but froze when she looked up. Her pulse tripped over itself when Freen's cheeky smirk and the sparkle in her eyes struck her like a shock. With a brief glance down, she tightened her grasp on the pen while seeming to concentrate on her notebook. "That's... Up for debate," she said to herself.

Freen chuckled, the sound low and easy, and leaned closer to nudge Becca’s shoulder. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it on your face—you’re impressed.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Becca replied.

They continued working, but the air between them felt lighter, more comfortable. At one point, Becca got up to grab her laptop from the other room, leaving Freen alone with the notebook. She came back to see Freen sitting cross-legged on the couch, drawing a cartoonish chemical bond in the page's corner.

"Really?” Becca sat down next to her, raising a brow.

Freen turned the notebook toward her and smiled. “We call it creative expression. You ought to give it a try.”

Becca shook her head, but a laugh escaped her. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Freen said, leaning closer, her voice dropping slightly, “you’re stuck with me.”

As Freen's eyes lingered, Becca felt her heart pound violently in her chest. She looked away clearing her throat.

“Focus.”

Freen leaned back and laughed, obviously enjoying herself. "You look cute when you're trying to be calm."

With her ears burning, Becca flipped through her notebook more forcefully than necessary. “I'm not trying anything."

“Sure, you’re not.” Freen’s grin widened, but she didn’t push further.

Freen stretched her legs out on the couch, propping herself up with one arm as she continued to watch Becca sift through her notes.

“Hey,” Freen said after a moment, her tone losing some of its teasing edge. “Even if you've said before that you hate science, you're actually pretty good at it. When’d you get all... serious about it?”

Becca paused, her fingers lingering on the pages of her notebook. "I've always done it fairly well. Just... needed to focus more, I guess.”

"Yeah, but you didn't used to care about school stuff. Not this much anyway," Freen said, leaning forward.

"People change," Becca said shrugging.

“Was it really that bad? At your old schools, I mean.”

The sudden inquiry caught Becca by surprise. She froze, taking a moment to react as she tightened the hold on the pen. Freen wasn’t just teasing now—she was asking, really asking.

“It wasn’t great,” she said. “Middle school was... rough. High school as well. People were constantly trying to find reasons to make me feel as though I didn't belong. I wasn't like them. I didn't belong.”

"That sounds awful," Freen replied in a soft voice. "But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to."

Becca shook her head, the memories bubbling to the surface whether she wanted them to or not. She had already shared so much with Freen—this wasn’t any different. She leaned back a little in her chair as she gathered her thoughts.

"I had this one incident in middle school where a girl gave me a note. She said she wanted to meet up with me after school and that she liked me. I found it in my locker one morning."

"And you... went?"

Feeling a little self-conscious about how the memories quickly returned, Becca nodded. “Yeah. I didn't even like her that way, it was... you know, it was just flattering. That was the first time I had ever been asked out. So I decided to meet up with her”. 

Becca’s fingers traced the edge of the table, her voice quiet but steady. “It stopped being sweet the moment I got there and waited... and waited. For hours. She never showed up. But that wasn’t the worst part. Her friends were there the whole time, hiding and filming me. They posted it online later, laughing about how pathetic I looked—waiting like an idiot for someone who’d never actually like me. They called it a joke, but it didn’t feel like one. Not to me.”

Freen kept her eyes on Becca. She crossed her arms and reclined in her chair. "So, people can really be that cruel, huh?" she asked, her voice steady but with a touch of something else beneath it.

Becca looked at her, a little surprised by the question. It felt off coming from Freen, considering how much of that world she’d been a part of herself. Freen wasn't just an innocent bystander either. Becca swallowed, attempting to keep her words free of resentment. “Yeah. It’s not like I’m the only one who gets treated like that. You’ve probably seen it before. Just… maybe not directed at you.”

Freen’s expression shifted, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I have. I’ve… done it, too. Stuff like that.” Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. “I’m not proud of it, but yeah. That doesn't make it right.”

The confession caused Becca's chest to tighten. She had always known Freen belonged to the same group of people who had humiliated her. However, Freen's admission made the gap between them seem more obvious and stark.

"Back then, I didn't give it much thought." Freen added. “At the time, it seemed like harmless fun. But now that I think about it, I realize it wasn't. I can see how much it hurt people.”

Becca glanced away, unsure how to respond.

Part of her wanted to push Freen away, but another part of her—maybe the part that was still the friend she used to know—understood that Freen had changed, at least in some ways.

“I don’t know if you can make it right,” Becca said, though not bitter. “But… I appreciate you saying that.”

Freen’s expression flickered, and for a moment, her eyes darkened as though something in her wanted to argue, to brush it off.

“Look, I don’t act like that around you,” Freen said with a touch of defensiveness. “But I’m not gonna pretend I’ve completely changed, either. I can be… cruel. I know that. And I probably still do stuff to people—just not you.”

Looking down almost apologetically, Freen breathed in deeply. "I'm not flawless. But, you know, I'm trying."

Becca nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”

Becca sat back a little as Freen's eyes lingered on her for a while. “I mean, I didn’t really know what was going on with you back then, but it’s kind of hard to ignore now.”

Becca didn’t respond immediately. Her heart was beating faster. She had always pushed the past away, tried to forget about the isolation she’d felt when she’d moved away, how she’d been left behind as Freen moved on. They hadn’t stayed in touch. It was like she had disappeared from Freen’s world, and once she was gone, she had been replaced.

Freen had her own life, her own friends, and Becca was just... this girl who had disappeared, a girl who didn’t fit into her world anymore.

“You didn’t know, right?” Becca’s voice was barely above a whisper. “When I moved away, you didn’t really know what was happening.”

Freen’s eyes softened, but she didn’t speak for a moment. “I didn’t realize how hard it was for you.” Her voice was quiet, almost tentative. “And I know I wasn’t around to see it, but if I had known... I wish I could’ve been there.”

Becca’s chest tightened at the words. She didn’t want to resent Freen for not being there; after all, Freen had her own problems. But even so, the absence of both of them—the distance, the silence—hurt in ways that were hard to put into words. “It’s not your fault,” Becca said softly, though her voice betrayed the weight she felt. “You had your own things to deal with... I get that.”

“Still, I could’ve tried harder to stay in touch. I didn’t know what you were going through, and maybe... maybe I should’ve noticed.”

Becca nodded slowly, forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat. It wasn’t just that Freen hadn’t been there; it was the whole feeling of being forgotten. It wasn’t just the bullying, it was everything—being abandoned by someone who had once been her best friend. But the more she thought about it, the more she understood that Freen had been struggling too. They had both been lost in different ways.

Freen smiled, but it was gentle, a little sad. “Let’s just focus on the project, yeah?” she suggested, her tone lightening.

Becca nodded, her heart still heavy, but somehow lighter at the same time. They had said things, maybe not everything, but enough. They would figure the rest out, in time.

Becca took a deep breath, willing her mind to clear off the heavy thoughts. They both turned their attention back to the chemistry project.

Leaning closer, Freen ran her finger along the project notes. "We need to find a way to present this without putting everyone to sleep." Becca couldn’t help but notice how Freen had a way of making even the most mundane things—like chemistry—seem effortlessly interesting.

Becca nodded, trying to focus while glancing down at the notes. Her hand brushed against Freen’s when she reached for the same paper, and the small, accidental touch sent a rush of warmth through her chest. She swiftly withdrew her hand, but not before Freen gave her a smile that made her heart beat a little faster.

"I'm trying to figure out how to make this stuff interesting," Becca mumbled, her face hot.

Freen's smile just widened. "Interesting? Who are we kidding? I trust you to make it work, but this is all about getting it through without putting anyone to sleep."

Becca laughed. "I’ll do my best, but even you might struggle to make something like ‘chemical reactions’ exciting."

Freen's shoulder touched Becca's while they worked, and despite her best efforts to focus on the notes, her mind kept wandering to the girl beside her.

A loud growl from Becca’s stomach broke the moment.

“Sounds like someone’s calling for a break,” Freen teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think my stomach just made the decision for us.”

Freen pushed back from the coffee table, stretching as she stood up. "How about we work on it again right after?”

Becca looked at the clock and hesitated. “But it’s getting late. We could just grab something light and then finish up. I’m not too hungry for a full dinner.”

Freen nodded, already making her way toward the kitchen. “Light sounds perfect. We can make it a mini-dinner party. Chemistry-themed snacks?”

Becca raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on making atomic cookies or something.”

“I can’t make promises like that.” She pulled out some leftover pasta and cheese and began reheating it. “We’ll just call it ‘molecular gastronomy.’”

As the food heated up, they fell into an easy silence. Freen moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, while Becca leaned against the counter, watching her.

Soon enough, the food was ready, and they settled down to eat. Becca picked at her plate, her mind half on the food, half on Freen. Every time she glanced up, she found Freen already looking at her.

Becca quickly looked down, focusing on her pasta, but Freen’s gaze lingered.

Becca was acutely aware of every movement Freen made, the way her fingers brushed against her fork or how she laughed when she said something mildly funny.

Becca’s pulse quickened as her fingers brushed against Freen’s, lingering just a second too long. She pulled her hand back, not quite able to mask the heat spreading across her cheeks.

Freen didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t care. Her gaze was still fixed on Becca, that soft, playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if she were enjoying some private joke. Becca’s heart thudded in her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Freen was feeling the same as she was. When she stole a glance back at Freen, however, the look in her eyes was unreadable. Was she waiting for something?

“Are we even making any progress on the project?” Becca asked, her voice coming out a little more breathless than she intended.

Freen didn’t seem in any rush to get back to work. She tilted her head, taking her time to answer. She answered in a quiet, smooth voice, "I think we're fine. We have the entire week, don't we?"

“Right,” Becca said as she nervously traced the edge of her plate with her fingers.

Freen’s eyes never left Becca as she finished her bite, a slow, deliberate motion that seemed to take up more space in the room than it should.

Freen said in a lighthearted and playful tone, "You know, for someone who's normally so concentrated, you look a little... distracted tonight."

Becca’s eyes flicked away for a moment. She was aware of every movement Freen made—how her fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the table, how her leg bounced just slightly under the table, and how her gaze lingered a little too long on Becca’s lips when she spoke.

“I’m not distracted,” Becca replied a little too quickly. The familiar taste of pasta not helping with the nervous sensation she’s feeling in her stomach.

"Are you sure about that?" Freen asked with a quiet laugh. “Because it seems like you can’t decide whether you want to look at your food or at me.”

Becca quickly looked down at her plate, her face flushed. She stabs her pasta a bit too forcefully, as if that would somehow ease the awkwardness. But it didn’t. “I’m just trying to eat.” 

Freen reclined back in her chair, her gaze fixed on Becca as her lips formed a playful smile. "Yeah, but you don't need to pretend that I'm not here."

Despite the food in front of her, Becca swallowed, her throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Yeah, well,” Becca said, her voice suddenly quieter and more tentative. “I simply wanted to eat dinner, and I wasn’t expecting you to make me anxious.”

Freen’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, her gaze locked on Becca’s. “Anxious?” She whispered, keeping her gaze fixed on Becca's. “I wonder what you’d do if I really tried.”

Warmth crawled up Becca's neck as her breath hitched. She twisted her napkin in her lap and fidgeted with the edge in an attempt to keep them occupied. She stole a glance at Freen, only to find her sharp eyes still on her, watching her with a hint of amusement. It felt like being under a spotlight, every move of Freen’s lips or tilt of her head is making Becca’s stomach flip. She quickly looked away, her thoughts racing. Freen had always been like this—effortless, magnetic—and  even back then when they were kids, Becca had brushed it off as admiration.

Becca's pulse raced as she scrambled for something to say, anything to push the uncomfortable heat from her cheeks. Her mind was running nonstop, searching for an excuse. She stumbled, her words snagged with the sudden weight of what she was about to confess. "I mean... it's just, you know, after—" She cleared her throat. "After we, uh, slept together, it’s kinda hard not to feel... I don’t know, a little weird about things. I wasn't exactly expecting it to be... like this."

Freen’s face softened, and Becca immediately regretted her choice of words, heat rising to her cheeks. She didn’t want to come across as dismissing what happened as a mistake. To be honest, she didn’t understand how they’d ended up here, tangled in this mess of emotions and desires, but she couldn’t deny the magnetic pull between them—especially now, with no one else around.

Freen paused as she stared at Becca. “Yes, I also didn't expect it. But I suppose we're both in on it, right?"

Becca got up abruptly, collecting the plates a bit too quickly. She carried them to the sink, appreciative of the excuse to turn away. The rush of running water and the routine of scrubbing dishes gave her hands something to do.

Her hands worked automatically, scrubbing at the remnants of their dinner, but her mind was far from focused.

She passed the empty glasses and utensils to Freen, who stood not too far away from her. She picked up a fresh towel. "I can dry."

"Thanks," Becca muttered, keeping her stare on the sink. Although it wasn't uncomfortable, the silence between them wasn't totally pleasant either.

Freen leaned against the counter, towel in hand, her movements relaxed as she dried the first plate. "So," she said in a tone that was almost mischievous, "Do you want to talk about it or are we going to act like this entire 'weird' thing isn't a big deal?"

Becca glanced at her, her face reddening. “I think we’ve talked enough for one night. Besides, we have dishes to do.”

Freen smirked, her gaze lingering on Becca a moment longer before she turned her attention back to drying. “Fair enough,” she answered, though it sounded like she wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

As they worked, their movements started to synchronize. Becca would wash, and Freen would take the dish from her almost before she could hand it over. It was an easy rhythm, one that felt strangely domestic, and Becca couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt. Too natural.

Freen nudged her shoulder lightly, drawing her attention. “You missed a spot,” she teased, holding up a fork with a tiny speck of sauce on it.

Becca groaned, grabbing it back from her. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Becca scrubbed the fork aggressively, muttering under her breath about Freen’s impossible standards. She could feel Freen’s eyes on her, and it wasn’t helping her concentration.

When she finally handed the fork back, Freen smirked, her fingers brushing against Becca’s. Becca quickly pulled her hand back, her cheeks heating.

Freen's voice dropped just enough to make Becca's stomach turn over. "Much better." 

She didn’t move away, though. If anything, she leaned closer, her shoulder now brushing Becca’s as she reached for another dish to dry.

Becca focused hard on the next plate, but her hands were shaking, the warm soapy water doing nothing to calm her nerves. Freen was too close; her floral scent filled the air between them, her presence overbearing. Becca could hear every gentle breath she took and sense the heat pouring from her.

“You’re really tense,” Freen tilted her head, studying Becca. “Is it me? Am I distracting you?”

Becca laughed nervously. "I just want to get through this without you always criticizing every dish."

"I'm not giving criticism. I’m just… observing.” She whispered.

Becca placed the plate in the drying rack a little too hastily, causing water to splash onto them both.

She groaned reaching for a towel to wipe up the spill, only for Freen to catch her hand mid-reach.

Freen pulled the towel gently from Becca's hand. “I’ve got it.”

Before Becca could protest, Freen shifted closer. The towel moved with slow precision, dabbing at a streak of water just below Becca’s collarbone. Becca’s breath hitched at the warmth of the cloth against her skin, but it was the light graze of Freen’s fingers along the curve of her neck that sent a shiver through her.

Freen moved slowly, her thumb lightly grazing Becca's throat as though to see how her pulse quickened under her touch. "You really need to be more careful," She whispered softly, enough to make Becca's stomach turn.

“I—uh—yeah,” Becca managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Freen's stare remained fixed, following the subtle flush that was creeping across Becca's cheeks. Her lips parting as if she was memorizing every response and little change in expression from the other girl.

"I... I think we're done here," Becca murmured, though she didn’t show any indication of moving away.

The smallest smile curved Freen's lips. “Are we?”

Their bodies were now just inches apart as she took a step closer. Becca could see every little detail of Freen's face: the doe-like eyes that stayed locked on hers, the subtle tilt of her head, and the curve of her cheek.

Becca swallowed hard, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. She didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly Freen was leaning in, and Becca’s hand was gripping the edge of the sink for balance. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the tension snapping as Freen’s lips brushed hers, soft at first, as if giving Becca the chance to pull away.

Becca, however, didn't. She couldn’t. Freen's lips were soft and warm at first, but they soon became bolder. Becca's heart pounded loudly she could hear it in her ears. With fingers tangled in Freen's hair, her hand moved almost reflexively, drawing the other girl nearer.

With her fingers twisting over Becca's shirt, Freen's other hand found her waist. Becca leaned into the touch, her own hold tightening and her knees threatening to buckle. Her heartbeat reverberated against her chest, feeling Freen's breath against her cheek. Their bodies were pressed so close that there was no longer any distance between them.

Freen's lips pushed against Becca's, gentle but relentless. Her heart roared against her ribcage like a runaway train. It was as if every nerve in her body was sensitive to the taste, touch, and heady aroma of Freen's scent.

Freen's fingers tightened around the fabric of Becca's shirt, drawing her impossibly closer, the hand at the nape of Becca's neck holding her in place with a gentle but unyielding pressure. Becca's hands, almost of their own accord, slid down the smooth planes of Freen's back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

It was Freen who finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into Becca's eyes, her own gaze dark with desire. "Bedroom?" Freen asked, the question little more than a whisper, but it hung in the air between them, thick.

Becca was only able to nod as Freen took her hand and guided her down the corridor to her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them.

"Are you sure about this?"

Becca took a deep breath. "I'm sure."

Freen's lips twisted into a smile before moving in to kiss Becca again. This time, her kiss was urgent and passionate, reflecting Becca's own intense hunger.

Freen's hands started to explore, admiringly following the other girl's curves. Becca's own hands, shaking with a mixture of anxiety and want, fumbled with the hem of Freen's shirt as they walked to the bed.

Freen laughed softly pausing their kiss long enough to remove her shirt over her head, exposing the smooth expanse of her skin. Becca’s breath caught in her throat at the sight, her hands reaching out to touch before she could change her mind.

The warmth of Freen's skin was almost radiating, and Becca was astounded by how soft it felt under her fingers. With Freen's weight bearing down on her, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, a sensation that was both exciting and reassuring.

Freen's hand moved under Becca's blouse as their bodies aligned, her fingers spreading out across the flat surface of the other girl’s abdomen. Becca’s breath hitched as Freen’s hand rose higher, her thumb grazing the bottom of Becca’s breast.

"Is this okay?" Freen whispered.

Becca could only nod, her ability to form coherent words seemingly lost in the fog of sensation that surrounded her.

Freen's hand kept exploring, slipping beneath the fabric of Becca's bra and cupping her breast. Her thumb circling the sensitive bud until it hardened beneath her touch.

Becca's head sank against the pillow, letting out a gasp as Freen's mouth trailed a path of fire down her neck, each nip and kiss sending thrills of ecstasy through her veins.

Only when Freen's hand started to move below, her fingers tickling the waistband of Becca’s pants, did Freen's hand suddenly stop.

"Bec, I need to know... Is this your first time?"

Becca's opened her eyes, meeting Freen's gaze. She nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment.

Freen’s eyes filled with tenderness as a soft smile curled her lips, leaving Becca breathless. "Don't worry," Freen whispered, her hand motionless at Becca's hip, "I'll be gentle."

Becca's body trembled with a strong mixture of nervousness and want. Her breath a shallow whisper against Freen's neck.

Freen’s hand began it’s delicate exploration once more, following the contour of Becca's hip bone through the material of her pants. The touch was gentle, hesitant. As though Freen was scared to break the magic that seemed to have enchanted both of them.

She leaned down, capturing Becca’s lips in a kiss that was both a promise and a question. Becca answered with an almost desperate zeal, her hands gripping Freen's shoulders and drawing her in as though wanting to merge their bodies into one.

As Freen's lips touched hers with a fresh tenderness, Becca's heart pounded. The heated, irate kisses they had previously shared were not like this one.

Becca's lips parted on a sigh, and Freen's tongue slipped inside to entwine with hers in a long, sensuous dance that left her moaning gently as they kissed.

Freen broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to gaze into Becca's eyes. Her own were dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful," Freen whispered.

Becca could only reply with a smile, her hands reaching up to frame Freen's face, her thumbs caressing the soft skin of her cheeks.

Freen's fingers deftly worked the button of Becca's jeans, pushing them down.

Becca’s heart was a wild, staccato of rhythm in her chest as she lay beneath the other girl, her breath hitching with each deft movement of Freen’s fingers against hers. The rush of warmth that flooded her at Freen’s words was a potent cocktail of anxiety and desire, her body thrumming with an anticipation that was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

Each exposed inch of skin was loved and revered, as though Freen was committing every gasp and quiver for future use.

Freen’s fingers moved over to the waistband of her panties. She could feel the heat of Freen's breath against her neck, each exhale sending a cascade of goosebumps down her arms.

Freen's tongue flitted out to taste the salt on Becca's creamy skin, her lips seeking the pulse point beneath her ear. Becca arched into the touch with a low moan, the sensation intense. As though reading her thoughts, Freen's hands moved under the fabric of Becca's shirt, pushing it up to show the soft mounds of breasts that were just barely covered by the lace of her bra.

Becca’s breath hitched in her throat as Freen’s fingertips traced the border of the lace with maddening slowness, her eyes darkening with want as she took in the sight. Through the thin material, Freen's touch was both a torment and a delight, each stroke of fingers on Becca sending a surge of pleasure right to her core.

Freen skillfully unclasped the front fastening of her bra, exposing her to the cool air of the room. Her nipples hardening due to the abrupt exposure. 

Freen's hands cupped the weight of Becca's breasts, her thumbs circling the rosy peaks with a tenderness that belied the fierce desire burning in her eyes. Becca's own hands tangled in Freen's hair as she leaned down to capture one taut nipple between her lips, her tongue flicking against the sensitive bud with a rhythm that matched the pulsating desire building within Becca.

Becca's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking the friction she very much needed, the sensation almost unbearable. Freen seemed to understand, her hand sliding down Becca's stomach, teasing the edge of her panties with her fingers before slipping past the material to reveal the slippery heat that awaited her. 

“I’ve got you,” Freen murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the rush of Becca’s nerves.

Becca's breath caught in her throat as Freen's fingers explored her clitoris, each touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over her.

As Freen’s fingers moved with a deliberate slowness, Becca felt herself being drawn into a whirlpool of pleasure, each stroke igniting a fire that seemed to consume her from the inside out. Her body arched into the touch, a wordless desire for more. Freen responded in kind with a light pressure that sent waves of bliss through her veins.

She could feel herself perilously close to the brink, her body straining towards the release that Freen's fingers promised.

Freen’s lips and tongue continued with their adoration of Becca’s breasts, working in tandem as she pushed two fingers inside her. Driving Becca closer and closer to the edge.

Becca's world narrowed to the sensations Freen was eliciting from her body, each touch, each kiss a testament to the depth of Freen's desire for her.

"F-Freen…!"

Becca's body arched off the bed as she screamed out Freen's name, her hands gripping Freen's shoulders as the first tremors of her orgasm started to build. Freen's fingers moved with a new eagerness that sent Becca over the edge, as if the slick sounds from pleasuring the girl beneath her spurred her on. 

Wave after wave of pleasure washed over Becca, her body shaking with the force of her release. Freen’s lips found hers once more, swallowing the soft gasps and moans that escaped from Becca’s lips as the pleasure crested within her. 

As Becca's breathing slowed, Freen's hand pulled away, her fingertips gliding lazily across Becca’s stomach as she came down from her high. 

With her fingers stroking Becca's smooth skin, Freen held her close while the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided. The room was quiet save for the ragged breaths coming out of Becca’s lips, her body still shaking from the force of release.

"Are you okay?"

With her face buried in the crook of Freen's neck, Becca nodded. She could feel the steady thrum of Freen's pulse pounding against her lips.

Freen drew back just enough to look at Becca, as if sensing her unease. She brushes a stray hair from Becca's face, "Hey, talk to me."

Becca swallowed. "I... I just didn't expect it to be so... overwhelming."

A little, empathetic smile curled Freen's lips as she cradled Becca's face in her hands. She soothed the other girl by lightly caressing her cheeks with her thumbs. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

They laid there quietly for a while. Becca relishing the haven of security and contentment that Freen's warmth offers. 

Freen finally broke the silence. "We don't have to do anything else tonight if you don't want to," she said, searching for any indication of discomfort from Becca.

With a little smile on her lips, Becca shook her head. Her hand reaches out to grasp Freen’s. "No, I want to... I just need a minute."

Freen laced her fingers in Becca's, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Take all the time you need."

Becca's gaze remained on her childhood best friend as her breathing calmed.

"Freen, what are we doing…?"

Freen paused, looking briefly at her hands before meeting Becca’s gaze. "I like being with you like this," she said candidly. “However, I'm not sure what it means. I really don’t.” 

Becca felt somewhat relieved to hear Freen's uncertainty, despite the bittersweet undertone. As if the burden of her own confusion had been somewhat lifted. Whatever this was, at least she wasn't alone. "I like it too," she said, her grip on Freen's hand tightening, "but we're not... I mean, we're not together, are we?"

Freen’s thumb gently brushed over the back of Becca’s hand, her expression unreadable for a moment. She looked down, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No, we’re not together. But…” she paused, her eyes lifting to meet Becca’s. “I don’t think we have to be to keep this.”

“This?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. Her heart skipping a beat at the insinuation.

Freen's tone was measured and careful, but her smile turned into something playful. "You know, this... whatever it is that we got going on. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than what we want it to mean.”

Becca struggled to take in what Freen had just said. Her heart was racing, and it wasn't just from the adrenaline from the last few moments. "You mean... simply keep things as they are?"

"Yes, no pressure, no labels. We do it when it feels right. Like tonight.” Her touch was almost inattentive as she traced Becca’s hand, but what she said was crystal clear.

Freen's words made Becca's stomach turn. She resisted the want to reach for her once more, to pull her closer and hold on as if doing so would alter what she had just spoken. Her fingers curled into the blanket beneath her, desperate to ground herself against the warmth still lingering on her skin where Freen had touched her.

No pressure. No labels. Just this .

“Okay,” Becca said softly, her voice almost catching on the word. She wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted it to sound like an agreement or if she was trying to convince herself. “If that’s what you want.”

Freen smiled again, a little wider this time, as if trying to reassure both herself and Becca. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best, you know? For both of us. You’ve got your music, and I’ve got cheer. We’re already juggling so much. It’d just get messy.” She paused, her gaze softening as she added, “And I don’t want to ruin what we already have. You’re important to me, Becca. I don’t want us to lose that. We keep things simple, no expectations, no drama.”

Becca nodded, her throat tight as she forced herself to smile back. For the best. Sure. If this was the only way she could keep Freen close, then she’d take it. She can act as though it didn’t bother her.

When Freen's eyes met Becca's, her playfulness was gone and was replaced by something serious. "Okay, here's how this is going to go. We’re not doing this to confuse ourselves. No feelings, no promises, and no tangled situations. We’re friends first, and that’s all we’re gonna be. Whatever this is, it doesn't change that.”

Becca swallowed before nodding, unsure if she could even speak without her voice giving away more than she intended.

Freen’s gaze softened, but she was still firm. “We don’t kiss, touch, or get involved when we’re with other people. That’s a boundary. No one gets hurt.” She paused to ensure Becca understood. “And we walk away when it’s over. No weirdness, no talking about it. It’s simply a thing that happened, and nothing more.”

“And nobody else can find out?”

“Exactly,” Freen remarked as her thumb brushes over Becca’s knuckles again. “We keep this between us. And we stop if one of us gets uncomfortable. It’s as easy as that. We don't push. It will have nothing to do with emotions or pressure.”

“All right, I understand.” Becca murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Freen smiled gently at her. "Good. And no matter what, we don’t let it ruin what we already have. Got it?"

Becca gave another, more emphatic nod, feeling warm as Freen's thumb brushes over her knuckles once more. The touch spreading like wildfire within her. It burned, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Because no matter how much it hurt, having Freen this way— only this way —was still better than being near her and never feeling her touch. And if this was all Freen could give her, Becca would take it. 

It was something she could hold on to. For now.

Chapter Text

Becca stirred awake as the room filled with warm hues from the morning light. Her body ached in places she hadn't known could ache. The cool sheets contrasted the heat radiating from her naked skin.

A hand slipped out from the tangled sheets just as she moved to sit up, it’s fingers curling lightly around her wrist. The grip wasn’t forceful, just enough to hold her in place.

Freen’s voice followed, unhurried and steady, like she had all the time in the world. “Stay.”

The single word slipped out so effortlessly, like she wasn’t asking for much, like it was the most natural thing to say. Becca froze, her gaze trailing down to where Freen’s hand rested against her skin, then back up to meet her eyes.

Freen lay there with an easy confidence, head propped lazily against her arm, her lips curving into a faint, lopsided smile. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but it carried the same assurance, as though she already knew Becca wouldn’t pull away.

“I thought we weren’t making this complicated,” Becca said quietly, though her body didn’t move.

With a small shrug, Freen brushed her thumb idly against Becca’s skin, holding her firmly. “Who said it’s complicated?”

Becca hesitated, torn between the instinct to push back and the warmth creeping up her spine from how Freen looked at her. She stayed.

Freen’s smirk returned, softer now. “That’s better,” she settles back into the pillows, her breasts grazing Becca's back, sending shivers down the other girl’s spine.

Her body betrayed her as a surge of arousal dampened the space between her legs. Freen releases Becca’s wrist before moving up to trace a lazy route down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips proceeded to move across Becca’s stomach, settling just above the soft mound of her sex.

Becca's breath caught in her throat as Freen’s fingers continued tracing her body with an artist’s precision. 

As if with a will of their own, Freen’s hands moved upwards to cup Becca’s breasts. Her fingers found Becca's nipples before rolling and pinching them until they hardened into peaks. Becca's back arched instinctively, pressing herself further into Freen's touch. Her body seeking more of the sensation.

As Freen's mouth continued to lavish attention on Becca's shoulders, her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, a sharp contrast to the softness of her lips. Each nip sent jolts of pleasure mixed with pain straight to Becca's core.

Becca’s mind scattered, lost in the throes of pleasure. She instinctively reached behind her in an attempt to tug Freen closer, pulling herself deeper into the embrace as her fingers found purchase in Freen’s messy locks.

Still holding on to some semblance of reason, Becca’s mind attempted a protest. School. Classes. Important things to complete, people to see, and obligations that cannot be postponed for the sake of carnal desires. Freen’s hand–as if on cue–left her breasts and began to slowly move southward, dissolving her attempt for words with a stifling moan.

Her breath hitched as Freen's fingertips grazed the soft skin of her lower abdomen, hips bucking of their own accord when her fingers parted the wet folds.

Freen's touch was light, teasing, her fingers circling Becca's clit with a maddening slowness. Becca's world narrowed to the point of contact, her body a tightly coiled spring, desperate for release.

"Freen-" Becca gasped, her voice begging.

Her legs trembled, her toes curled, and her fingers tightened in Freen’s hair as the first ripples of her climax began to unfold deep inside her. The tension within her building with each accelerating pass of Freen’s fingers. 

Then, just as Becca was about to lose it, Freen’s hand stopped moving, leaving her on the edge of orgasm. Becca’s eyes flew open, her chest heaving as she turned to face Freen with a wordless plea, only to be met by eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

Becca’s body throbbed with pent-up frustration. With a growl that seemed to come from deep within her, Becca altered their positions, pinning Freen beneath her.

"You think you can mess around and get away with it?" Becca's voice was a low rumble as she straddled Freen's hips, her hands pressing the other girl’s wrists into the pillow above her head.

A flicker of surprise, and something akin to excitement crossed Freen’s features. “What are you going to do about it?”

Becca's response was swift and sure. She captured Freen's lips in a fiery kiss. Her tongue swept into Freen's mouth, tasting, exploring. Leaving them both breathless as she broke away.

"You don’t get to call the shots," Becca said, her words punctuated by the weight of her body pressing down on Freen's. She reached between them, her fingers resuming their earlier ministrations with renewed vigor.

Freen’s breath hitched, her body arching itself to Becca’s hand. Her body filling with goosebumps as Becca’s other hand trailed on her side.

Becca leans in, her teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of Freen’s neck, sensing the control of the other girl slowly slip away. She nipped and sucked at the tender flesh, marking Freen with a ferocity that bordered on feral. She wanted her mark to be visible, a claim that Freen is hers.

Becca growls, her fingers continuing to move faster, the moans of pleasure only spurring her on. “You’re mine.”

"Yes," Freen gasped, her body writhing beneath Becca's as the tension within her coiled tighter.

Becca's heart thundered in her chest as Freen lay beneath her, eyes glazed with lust, lips parted with each panting breath. 

It was intoxicating. 

Freen being so undone by her touch.

She halted her movements abruptly, her fingers stilling against the slick heat of Freen's core. Freen's eyes flew open, a question forming on her lips, but Becca silenced her with a look that promised both pleasure and pain.

"You don't get to come just yet," Becca murmurs sultrily, her gaze never leaving Freen’s even as the other girl bucked her hips and whimpered for release.

Becca shifted their positions smoothly, aligning their bodies so their clits touched against each other. Slowly, she begins to rock against Freen, the friction causing both of them to gasp.

Freen's hands, which had been restrained above her head, now found purchase on Becca's hips, her fingers digging into the soft flesh. Becca, however, was relentless. Her rhythm steady as she continued grinding against Freen, leaving them both teetering on the edge.

Their bodies moved as one—raw, primal, and unapologetically carnal. Becca's breaths came in short, sharp bursts, her skin slick with sweat, her muscles quivering as she feels Freen's arousal mingling with her own.

Freen's moans grew louder, her body arching into Becca's, yearning for more—more friction, more pressure, more of the delicious pain that her friend was inflicting upon her. But Becca had resolved to draw this out, to make Freen plead for mercy, to make her acknowledge who held the power between them.

"Look at me," Becca commanded. Freen's eyes locked onto Becca’s, darkened with lust.

Becca quickened the pace, her hips thumping with urgency. She can sense the tension building inside Freen’s body, almost snapping.

And so, she pushed them both to the edge, their bodies straining towards a release that hovered just out of reach. Becca's world narrowed to the point where their bodies met, the sound of their ragged breathing, the scent of their arousal, the taste of Freen's skin on her tongue.

Finally, when Becca could stand it no longer, she reached between their bodies, her fingers deftly finding Freen's swollen clit. The rocking of her hips synchronizing with her hands as she rubbed small, tight circles around the delicate bundle of nerves.

Freen's orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing beneath Becca's as she cried out her release. Becca wasn't far behind as she followed through from the intensity of Freen's climax. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling in the aftermath.

Becca fell into the bed next to Freen, the waves of ecstasy subsiding, their limbs intertwined while their breathing gradually returns to normal.

She laid her head next to the other girl, her calm breathing a contrast to the storm of emotions roiling within her chest. She looked at Freen’s face, examining her delicate features, which were softened by the morning light filtering through the curtains.

This was meant to be simple. However, that ache, the yearning, had a way of making her doubt everything. She should be savoring the afterglow, not tangled in a web of feelings she hadn’t signed up for.

Becca rolled onto her side, resting on one elbow as she watched Freen. A faint smile lingered on Freen’s lips, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Or was there something more behind that expression? The thought made Becca’s stomach flip, even though she tried to push it away. She couldn’t let herself believe Freen felt anything deeper. That wasn’t part of their deal.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing along Freen’s jaw. A drowsy smile appeared on Freen’s face. 

Warm. 

Inviting. 

Easy to get lost in. 

Yet it sent a soft shiver through Becca, making her wish she didn’t yearn for the connection as much.

“We should get up,” Becca said, trying to keep her voice steady. “School’s waiting.”

Freen’s smile faded. “Do we have to?” she murmured, catching Becca’s hand and holding it against her cheek. “Can’t we stay here? Just a little longer?”

Every part of her wanted to say yes, to stay wrapped up in Freen’s warmth and let the world fade away. But that wasn’t how this worked.

“We can’t stay here forever, Freen.” She pulled her hand away, sitting up and wrapping the sheets around her. “We’ve got classes to attend, homework to do. We can't just ignore everything outside of this... whatever this is."

Freen sat up slowly, her gaze fixed on Becca. She studied her for a long moment, like she was trying to figure out what Becca wasn’t saying. Then she sighed, nodding. “You’re right. Reality sucks, though.”

Becca forced a small smile as they started gathering their clothes. Freen reached for hers on the floor but paused when her fingers brushed against something familiar. She held it up, eyebrows lifting in recognition. “Is this… my shirt?”

Becca froze, one arm halfway through her hoodie sleeve. Her gaze darted to the clothing in Freen’s hand—the unmistakable jersey Freen had lent her on the first day of school when Friend had spilled coffee all over her.

“Oh. That.” Avoiding Freen’s gaze, she tugs her hoodie on the rest of the way. “I was going to give it back.”

“It’s been a month, Becca.” She held up the jersey, inspecting it amused. “You washed it, though. So that’s a plus.”

Becca crossed her arms. “Of course, I washed it. What do you take me for?”

Freen smirked, clearly enjoying Becca’s flustered tone. “I don’t know. A shirt thief, maybe?”

She merely laughed as Becca gave her a withering look. “I’ve been busy, and it’s not as if you asked for it back.”

Freen raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “I didn’t even remember it until now. But you held onto it this whole time?”

“It’s just a shirt, Freen,” Becca snapped. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

Freen’s smirk deepened. “Oh, it’s just a shirt? Then why didn’t you just throw it in my locker or something? Kind of weird you’ve been keeping it, don’t you think?”

Becca’s chest tightened. The truth—that she hadn’t wanted to part with it, that she’d liked having something of Freen’s close—felt too raw, too vulnerable to admit.

Instead, she shoots a glare at the other girl. “Maybe because YOU’RE making it weird!”

Freen grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “I don’t have to make it weird. You’re doing a great job of that all by yourself.”

Becca groaned, shoving the jersey into the other girl’s bag as if that would end the conversation. “It’s a shirt, Freen. A shirt. Let it go.”

Freen raises her hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Alright, alright. For the record, though, you just have to say so if you want to keep it.”

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Freen straightens herself and gathers her things, a smirk returning. “Sure you don’t. In any case, thanks for taking good care of it. You know where to find me if you ever need another one.”

Becca pretended to be preoccupied with the contents of her bag as the other girl left the room. She didn’t like how Freen could easily irritate her. Detested how the cleaned jersey still has the slight hint of her scent. But above all, she hated the way her heart hurt whenever Freen flashed that brilliant, gummy smile, as though nothing else mattered.

Freen’s voice broke through her thoughts just as she was fiddling with her bag strap.

"Are you coming or what?"

Becca turned to see Freen leaning against the doorframe, car keys spinning on her finger.

“What do you mean?”

Freen pushed off the frame, holding up the keys. “I’m giving you a ride. Thought it’d save you the hassle.”

Becca scowled. “I don’t need a ride. I can manage.”

“Yes, you can . But since I’m here anyway, why bother?”

There.

That mix of charm and arrogance that always made it impossible for Becca to say no. Her mind scrambled for an excuse that didn’t sound pathetic as she hesitated.

Freen tilted her head, her grin playful. “Unless you’re scared of being alone with me?”

Becca rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag tighter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but you’re still coming.” Freen said, making her way down and outside the house towards her car.

By the time Becca made it outside the passenger side, Freen was already behind the wheel, adjusting the rearview mirror. She slid into the seat, the scent of Freen’s familiar cologne mingling with the faint leather of the car interior.

“See?” Freen said as she started the engine. “Easy.”

The ride was silent, the soft hum of the engine the only source of sound filling the space between them. Becca gazed out the window, her mind alternating between the previous night and the strange comfort of Freen’s presence in the present.

“Are we simply gonna avoid talking about it?” The silence was suddenly broken by Freen’s question.

Becca’s fingers curled against her bag as she stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

Freen gave her a quick look, her smirk unwavering. “Last night. This morning. You know, us .”

Becca’s heart skipped a beat. She detested how flippant Freen sounded. “There’s nothing to talk about. You said so yourself, we don’t complicate things. Keep things simple.”

Freen hummed thoughtfully, as if she wasn’t convinced. “Alright. Simple.”

They arrived at the school parking lot, Freen parking her car with ease. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t mind this.” She turned to Becca with a soft smile.

For a second, Becca froze. The car suddenly seemed too close, too small for her comfort. Everything felt amplified; every movement, every breath.

Freen’s gaze flicked to Becca’s lips. Becca’s heart skipped, her pulse quickened—she didn’t know if she wanted to pull away or lean in.

Before she could decide, Freen was closer, too close. Her lips brushed against Becca’s. It was just a touch, but it lingered.

Becca stiffened in her seat, the lingering warmth of the kiss still tingling on her lips. She had to shake it off. Her eyes darted to the dashboard. ‘Act normal’ , she told herself. ‘Just breathe. Don’t let her see.’

Freen leaned back lazily, her head tilted just enough to catch Becca’s eye, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “See you in second period.”

That grin—it was infuriating. Playful, cocky, and so undeniably Freen. Becca swallowed hard, hating the way her chest fluttered in response.

“Yeah, whatever,” Becca muttered, trying to keep her voice steady but sharp, she pushed open the car door with more force than necessary. She shot a glance at Freen, the teasing grin still on her face, and for a split second, it twisted something inside Becca. Something that was so much more than irritation.

But she wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t.

She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder, her fingers tight on the strap as she moved to step out of the car. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” she added, more to herself than to Freen, trying to mask the stupid, ridiculous way her heart was beating faster than it should.

Freen didn’t respond right away, and that annoyed Becca more than it should have.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Freen’s voice floated over from the car, breezy and unhurried.

Becca slammed the car door shut, the sound louder than she intended. She didn’t pause to look at Freen again. Instead, she quickly turned away, her steps a little too brisk as she walked toward the school. The tension in her shoulders betrayed her calm facade, the quick pace betraying how not calm she was feeling.

Her mind raced, her thoughts all jumbled, trying to latch onto something, anything that made sense. It’s nothing, she told herself. This is fine. It’s what she agreed to.

But still, she couldn’t shake the warmth that had followed her all the way from the car, or the way her pulse still hummed from the kiss. It’s just Freen, she reminded herself, but the words didn’t come out as convincing as she wanted. They felt flimsy, hollow. She wished she could just erase the way Freen’s smile made her chest tighten, or how the brief touch of her lips felt like an explosion in her veins.

Becca’s thoughts swirled in a haze as she entered the school, her shoes scuffing against the hallway floor. She tried to focus on the sound of the other students, the chatter, the clatter of lockers opening, anything to drown out the thoughts that kept circling back to the other girl.

“Becca!” Irin’s voice pulled her back to the present, and Becca blinked, shaking herself out of her daze.

Irin and Nop stood by her side with looks of concern and curiosity. Nop was beaming, clearly up to something, while Irin’s eyes narrowed looking at Becca as if she could see through her.

“You alright? You look a little... off. Late night or something?” Irin asked.

Becca tried to keep her face neutral, but she could feel the weight of her tiredness—more than just physical exhaustion, though that too was there. The memory of last night was clinging to her like a second skin. She quickly offered a half-smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Irin arched an eyebrow before her lips curled into a knowing smirk, leaning against the lockers. “Tired, huh? Let me guess, Freen made you do all the work for Chem? Typical.”

Nop shook his head, letting out a low chuckle. “I’m gonna assume she just lounged around, looking like she was doing you a favor just by being there.”

The clang echoed down the hallway as Becca slammed the locker shut a little harder than she intended. She turned to face them, gripping her bag strap tightly. “She helped,” she said, the words sharper than she meant.

“Oh, really?” Irin’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Helped how? By making sure her nails didn’t get messed up?”

Nop grinned, mimicking Freen’s signature toss of her long hair. “‘Ugh, Becca, can you handle this part? I’m, like, so busy being fabulous.’”

Becca smirked but didn’t join in. The image wasn’t entirely off. She could still picture Freen lounging on her couch last night, her feet propped up on the coffee table while her sharp eyes scanned their project notes. Freen had helped, though—more than Becca had expected. But then there were the moments that Nop and Irin wouldn’t believe—the quiet glances, the teasing touch of Freen’s fingers brushing hers, It hadn’t been just the soft press of skin on skin; it had been the way her breath had hitched for a second. How her heart had skipped, as if Freen’s touch had been a magnet pulling at her chest long after they’d finished more than just their project for the day.

“She wasn’t like that,” Becca said, her voice tight, looking anywhere but at them.

“Come on, Becca.” Irin leaned closer, her grin sly. “It’s Freen we’re talking about. You think she doesn’t have people wrapped around her finger for stuff like this? She’s got half the school doing her bidding and the other half too scared to say no.”

“I’m fine,” Becca said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She forced a small, strained smile and started walking down the hall. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, sure, just don’t let her make you her personal assistant next time,” Irin called after Becca, her voice carrying a teasing note.

She slowed her steps as Irin and Nop caught up with her. Her mind whirring amidst the buzz of students bustling past them with books and chatter. She looked at her friends, her hand gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

“Um, hey. What would you guys do if someone you liked… I don’t know, proposed a situationship? Like, you’re still friends, but there’s... other stuff going on. No labels. Just... whatever happens.”

Nop almost tripped over Irin as she stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait, what?” She turned to Becca, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you serious? That’s the kind of thing you’d consider?”

Becca shrugged, but it felt forced. “I’m just asking.” She avoided Irin’s pointed stare, keeping her gaze ahead.

Nop clutched his chest dramatically and gasped. “Oh my god, Becca. Are we experiencing a love-life crisis? Spill the tea. Who’s the mystery person?”

Her cheeks heat up before she blurted out quickly. “There’s no one. It’s hypothetical, okay?”

Irin crossed her arms as they resumed walking. “Hypothetical, my ass. I’ll tell you now–hard pass. Definitely a no-no for me. They wouldn’t play games with you if they liked you, like really liked you. They’d want something genuine, not some gray area bullshit.”

“Irin, darling, not everyone’s searching for a fairytale.” Nop grins, tossing an arm over her shoulder. “Some people take what they can get. And, plus, if they proposed that, maybe–just maybe–they’re testing the waters. See if it might lead to something more, you know.”

Irin shoved his arm off scoffing. “Or they simply want the perks without the commitment. Nop, don’t romanticize it. It’s a cop-out.”

Becca stayed silent. She hadn’t expected Irin’s reaction to sting, but it did—like a needle piercing a wound she was unaware of.

Nop tilted his head, studying Becca with an exaggerated squint, as though he was trying to read her mind. “But let’s be real, Becca,” he continued, leaning closer. “If it’s someone you actually like, wouldn’t you want to… I don’t know, sway them? Make them see you’re worth more than some casual deal?”

“Sway them?” Irin asked sarcastically. “What is this, a medieval romance? She’s supposed to woo them with poetry and courtly love?”

“Exactly!” Nop clapped his hands, ignoring Irin’s eye roll. “Why not go full-on romance novel? Flowers, little notes, showing up to their games or practices looking absolutely stunning. Make them fall for you, Becca.”

Becca let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Well, it’s not,” Nop admitted, his grin turning into something more thoughtful. “But wouldn’t you try if they’re worth it? Try taking a chance rather than just... settling?”

Irin threw her hands up groaning. “Goddamit Nop, quit giving her ideas. This hypothetical person clearly doesn’t deserve that kind of effort if they’re not willing to commit from the start.”

But Becca was no longer listening. Her mind wandered, drawn irresistibly to the image Nop had painted. She imagined herself showing up at one of Freen’s cheer practices, waiting on the bleachers with a small bouquet.

She pictured herself slipping handwritten notes into Freen’s locker, things she was too afraid to say out loud. Maybe she’d even learn more about Freen’s favorite things—her favorite coffee order, her favorite songs—so she could surprise her with them, bit by bit, until Freen couldn’t help but see her in a different light.

Becca felt a strange mixture of hope and dread swirl inside her. Could she do it? Would she be able to make Freen fall for her? Or was she having unrealistic expectations and was setting herself up for disappointment?

“Earth to Becca?” 

Becca blinked, realizing they were both staring at her.

“Huh?” Her cheeks start to heat up.

Irin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’ve been staring into space for, like, a solid minute. You’re not actually considering Nop’s absurd plan, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

A lie.

Nop’s expression softened as he turned to face Becca. “I suppose it depends, though. If you know what you’re getting into and you’re comfortable with it… Who’s to judge what’s right or wrong? But you’d better be careful, Becs. Hypothetically, of course.” He added the last part mischievously.

Becca managed a small laugh, but it felt hollow. They reached the algebra classroom, and she lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Irin and Nop found their seats.

“Right, careful,” she murmured under her breath, stepping inside.

Becca took her seat in the back of the classroom. Her classmate’s banter filled the room, but she was miles away, lost in the vivid replay of last night.

She could still feel the warmth of Freen’s fingers on her skin. The table lamp’s soft glow casting a golden tint over Freen’s features. The gentle curve of her lips and the sharp lines of her cheekbones contrasting with the way her hair spilled over her shoulders.

Becca could still feel the ghost of Freen’s touch as she traced the lines of her body, the softness of her skin, the gentle arch of her back as she responded to Becca’s touch. The way their bodies moved together in a rhythm that was uniquely theirs.

Becca’s thoughts drifted back to the present.

Her fingers traced the outline of her textbook absentmindedly. She was aware that allowing herself to feel this deeply for someone who could never offer her the same level of commitment was dangerous ground.

But as she sat there, Becca couldn’t help but yearn for the warmth of Freen’s embrace, the taste of her lips, and the way her heart raced whenever they were close. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but it was one she wasn’t ready to stop. Not yet. Not when every fiber of her being ached for more.

Her fingers paused on the cover of the book, thoughts spiraling. Maybe... maybe there was a chance. Could there be? A part of Becca, the part that had spent years guarding herself, was hesitant to even consider it. She had never really let herself get this close to anyone, certainly never to someone like Freen. But another part, the part that had been slowly unraveling since Freen had entered her life again, couldn’t help but wonder. Could Freen feel it too? Could there be something beneath the surface of their arrangement, something more real, more... permanent?

Though it couldn’t be big gestures. Freen wasn’t the type to be swayed by grand displays of affection.

Instead, it would have to be in the details—those small, quiet things that Freen would notice. Maybe it was finding that rare book Freen had casually mentioned or a special brand of tea she liked. Something thoughtful, something that showed Becca had been listening.

Becca shook her head, letting out a frustrated breath as she closed the book. What was she doing? This was all so silly. She was overthinking everything just because Freen was physically available to her now, just because their arrangement had blurred the lines between what was casual and what was more.

She slapped the book lightly in her lap, willing herself to snap out of it. This wasn’t like her. Becca had never been the type to dream about grand romantic gestures or fantasy scenarios. She was the one who kept things simple, kept things clear, and yet here she was, imagining what it might be like to ‘court’ Freen. It was absurd.

Freen had made it clear that this was temporary—just a fling. There was no room for anything profound, especially with someone like her. She couldn’t afford to get lost in these delusions. Not now.

Still, the flutter in her chest didn’t go away. She tried burying it, pushing it down beneath a veil of reason and common sense. Ignoring the emotions was easier than confronting the possibility of disappointment. She could handle the physical side of things, but she would risk losing the only part of Freen she had if she allowed herself to dream about something more.

Becca was jolted back into reality when the bell rang. She blinked, shifting her attention to the crowded classroom before her. Becca couldn’t help but feel as though she was stuck in a dream–a beautiful, heartbreaking dream she was unwilling to wake up from.

Becca shook off the lingering haze as she grabbed her things, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as she followed Irin and Nop down the crowded hallway.

When they reached the Chemistry classroom, Becca’s gaze immediately flicked to their table. Freen had already taken a seat and was reclining in her chair, tapping her pen in a rhythmic beat on the desk’s surface.

Becca hesitated for a moment while Irin and Nop found their seats without a second thought.

Almost instantly, Freen’s eyes met hers, a smile appearing on her face as if she understood precisely what Becca was thinking. "Ready to start?"

The classroom hummed with the chatter of students, the occasional clatter of a dropped pen, the rustle of notebook pages turning. Becca took her seat beside Freen, her floral scent wafting over, mingling with the sterile smell of the chemistry lab.

Ever the epitome of effortless grace, Freen sat back in her chair, drumming a steady rhythm on the tabletop with her long fingers. Her gaze, however, was fixed on Becca, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up from their sheer intensity.

Freen leaned in slightly, her voice just above a whisper. “You’re tense.”

“I’m fine.” She gave Freen a sidelong glance in an attempt to appear calm.

Freen’s doe-like eyes gleamed mischievously, one that Becca was very familiar with. She reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Becca’s ear. “Sure, you are.” 

The gesture seemed harmless enough, but it didn’t stop the flush of her cheeks nor the quickening of her pulse as she fought for composure.

Freen leaned in closer, her breath hot against Becca’s ear. "You know, you could use a break. All work and no play makes Becbec a dull girl.

Becca;s pen scraped the notebook as her grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. "It’s called paying attention, Freen. And I suggest you do the same."

Unfazed, Freen smirked. She reached over and plucked the pen out of Becca’s hand. "But you make it look so boring." She twirls it between her fingers as if it were hers.

Freen withdrew the pen just out of reach when Becca tried to get a hold of it. Her shoulders brushing lightly against the other girl's. “Calm down, Becbec.” She let her fingers graze Becca’s hand. “You’re trying so hard—you’re starting to make me look bad.”

Becca swallowed hard, her cheeks warming. She tried to ignore the way Freen’s knee bumped against hers under the table, the way her fingertips brushed Becca’s wrist as if by accident.

"Stop it," Becca hissed under her breath, snatching her pen back.

"Stop what?" Freen asked, feigning innocence as she rested her elbow on the desk and propped her head on her hand. Her hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face as she stared at Becca like she was the only person in the room.

"Being a distraction," Becca murmured, trying but failing to focus on the equations in front of her.

Leaning even closer until her lips were near Becca’s ear, Freen chuckles softly, her breath warm against her skin. “Oh, I’m only getting started.”

Becca froze. It didn’t help that Freen’s fingers were now brushing over the edge of her notebook. Although it wasn’t blatant enough to attract the attention of their seatmates, it was more than enough to set Becca’s nerves on edge.

As the teacher’s voice droned on, Freen let her hand trail downward, her pinky grazing the back of Becca’s hand. The movement was so subtle it could even have been accidental—if it weren’t for the way Freen’s gaze flickered to Becca’s face, gauging her reaction.

"You know," Freen whispered again, "if you keep blushing like that, people might start to wonder what I’m saying to you."

Becca turned to glare at her.

Freen leaned back just as the teacher called on Becca to answer a question. The teacher’s voice droned on, but Becca couldn’t seem to focus. She felt a light brush of Freen’s fingers on her arm as the bell rang, marking the end of class.

Just as Becca began to gather her things, Freen’s hand appeared in front of her, holding out a small piece of paper. With a triumphant smirk, she handed it over, and Becca unfolded it, her breath catching as she read the neat, slanted handwriting: Meet me after school.

Becca’s mind remained clouded through the rest of her day. The clock seemed to be ticking louder than usual, and each second passed on with excruciating slowness. The hands never seemed to move fast enough as Becca’s eyes kept flicking to the clock every few minutes. Her mind wandered, leaving the faint scribbles of what can pass off as her notes to be nothing more than an afterthought. Both the lesson on the board and her teachers were just a blur. Despite hearing her classmates laughing in the background, it felt as though their voices were coming from a world away from where she was.

By the time lunch rolled around, she barely touched her food. Nop and Irin had been talking, but their words were lost to her. Every so often, their faces would pull into focus, and she’d nod, offering half-hearted responses. They weren’t oblivious, but they didn’t push—after all, they knew Becca’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

Becca jolted back to reality as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. She quickly gathered her things, making her way towards the door. Anxiety weighed heavily on her stomach, but there was also a flutter of anticipation.

The noise of students filled the air as she made her way down the hallway, each of them rushing towards their after-school destinations. However, Becca wasn’t really paying attention to them. Her thoughts were focused and fixed on one thing: Freen.

Then, Becca froze as she turned the corner.

Billy was standing there with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, his stare fixed firmly on Freen as they stood in the bustling hallway. Billy extended the bouquet towards her, the green stems contrasting with the red petals. 

A few students had stopped in the hallway, clearly enjoying the scene before them.

Billy stepped closer, offering the bouquet to Freen, his voice rising just enough for Becca to hear. “I really think we should give it another try,” he said.

"Please don’t," Becca thought, her mind a frantic plea. ‘Please don’t accept them.’ Her fingers clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palm. Her breath hitched as Freen’s eyes flicked to the bouquet, then to Billy’s face.

She couldn’t bear to see Freen accept those roses. To see her smile and witness that familiar sparkle in her eyes return, as if everything that had happened between them was nothing, wiped away with a single gesture.

Freen didn’t answer right away. She briefly glanced at the roses, her fingertips gliding over the petals as though assessing the gesture. With bated breath, the crowd watched while some students exchanged curious glances.

Then, Freen’s fingers curled subtly around the stems, her hold tight enough to claim the bouquet. She raised the roses to her chest, her lips quirked into a small smile. “You’re really not the type to give up, are you?”

The crowd erupted in quiet cheers and whispers. Becca’s chest felt hollow, the ache of it settling deep in her bones.

And just like that, something inside Becca cracked.

Becca’s heart hammered in her chest, and a sharp pang of jealousy flared inside her. She clenched her fists, not quite sure why it stung so much to see Freen holding those roses, accepting them with such grace. Of course, Freen would accept them—why wouldn’t she?

"I don't know," Billy added, his voice hesitant as he moved closer. "It’s been a while... and I’ve been thinking about what we had, what we could still have. Maybe—"

Becca couldn’t hear any more. The sour taste of uncertainty rose in her throat while her stomach turned. She didn’t want to be part of whatever this was any longer.

The crowd of students was still buzzing with excitement, but Becca pushed past them without a second glance. She walked quickly, breathing shallowly; her mind was racing to block away the image of Billy and Freen standing there, talking in a way that was too familiar and intimate to her liking.

She didn’t need to see any more.

By the time she reached the door to the music room, Becca could feel the weight of it all pressing down on her chest, the sounds of the school around her becoming a blur. She needed to focus on something else, anything else. She inhaled deeply before opening the door, the familiar voice and instruments of her bandmates flooding her ears. She briefly felt relief, but it didn’t make the raw ache in her chest any lesser.

Her hands moving robotically in time with the band’s rhythm as they practiced. The notes seemed more hollow than usual, like they were only noises to fill the space.

Even Jamie occasionally looked anxiously in her direction from time to time. But Becca didn’t meet his eyes. Nor did she bother to care.

The practice wrapped up, and soon, everyone started gathering their things. Becca fumbles with the buttons on her instrument case, her thoughts still trapped in that hallway.

Maybe Billy had won her back.

She tried to push the thought away, but it kept creeping up, gnawing at her.

“Hey, uh, you free this weekend?” Jamie’s voice breaks through the fog of her thoughts. “Thought maybe we could go on that date again.”

Becca’s chest tightened at the mention of a date, but she forced a small smile. “We’re having a family dinner this weekend,” she replied, her stomach churning with the thought of the dinner she hadn’t been looking forward to.

Jamie didn't miss a beat. “That’s fine. I can drop you off afterward, just a short time—no big deal.”

Becca hesitated, her gaze flicking toward Jamie but not really seeing him. The offer lingered in the air, and she knew what he was getting at.

Why should it bother her? She wasn’t supposed to care, not really. They weren’t together—no labels, no promises. 

It was a situationship, after all. 

Freen could do whatever she wanted and be with whoever she wanted. Becca couldn’t ask for more. Why would she feel bad about it if Freen probably doesn’t give a fuck?

However, Becca couldn’t help but feel something bitter curling in her chest as Jamie stood there, smiling patiently. Was this the same thing? Was she doing what Freen was doing, filling a hollow space in her chest with someone else when what she truly wanted and desired was something that wasn’t so permanent?

"Yeah, sure. That sounds fine."

If Freen was out there moving on with Billy, what was the point of holding back? Why not just let herself be swept up in something that didn’t demand anything—just like Freen did? It was easier that way, wasn’t it?

As Jamie continued talking, Becca’s thoughts drifted back to the moment she’d witnessed in the hallway. The bouquet Billy had offered to Freen, its red roses bold and beautiful, but somehow... detached from her own feelings. Red roses—she loved them. In fact, they’re her favorite – classic, powerful, the kind of flowers that spoke of passion, of something that couldn’t be ignored.

But if she ever gave Freen flowers, it wouldn’t be roses. It would be tulips—soft, pale pink, quietly romantic. Flowers that spoke to the parts of her heart she kept hidden. She pictured them in Freen’s hands, their delicate petals softening the sharpness of her gaze.

Becca’s lips twitched into a hollow smile, a soft, bitter laugh escaping her throat before she could stop it. It wasn’t loud enough to draw Jamie’s attention—not that he’d notice with how he kept rambling on—but it felt like the sound scraped against her insides.

Tulips. She had actually let herself imagine giving Freen tulips.

Nop’s words replayed in her mind, and a wave of shame burned through her. What had possessed her to entertain something so ridiculous?

Irin had been right. Of course, she had been right. It’s a cop-out. Becca had nodded along, pretending she wasn’t caught in the same trap. Pretending she wasn’t secretly hoping for something more from a situation that had no future. What kind of idiot let themselves believe that Freen—Freen—would ever look at her that way?

Freen probably didn’t even think she was worth a relationship.

It was laughable. She was laughable.

And she had been stupid—so, so stupid—to think, even for a moment, that it could be anything else.

Chapter Text

Freen’s POV

Freen slouched in her seat, absently tapping a pen against her notebook as the teacher droned on about literature. The words blurred together, none of it holding her attention. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to do this; it was just... boring . She glanced at the clock. Only 15 minutes left until the bell rings. How was it possible that time was crawling this slowly?

She scanned the classroom, a slow smirk forming on her lips as she caught sight of Heng and Nam whispering at the front. They thought they were being quiet, but Freen always had an ear for what mattered. Not that she cared what they were talking about, but it was a convenient distraction from the rambling lecture.

"Freen," Friend’s voice cut through her reverie, a sharp poke at her elbow pulling her back into the room. "You’ve been zoning out. What’s up with you?"

Freen’s attention flickered towards her best friend before it returned towards the clock. “Just tired.”

"Are you sure? You’re not even trying to listen," Friend pressed. "You're thinking about someone , aren't you?"

"Maybe I am, not that it’s any of your business."

Friend lifted an eyebrow. "You don’t usually get distracted by anyone.”

Freen rolled her eyes, more out of habit than anything else. "It’s really not that serious; this class is just that boring."

Her eyes flicked toward the door again, her thoughts slipping away from the room and back to the one thing that had been occupying her mind all day. Her . Friend didn’t need to know.

Friend’s voice snapped her back to reality. "Well, don’t let whoever’s on your mind distract you too much. We need you in top shape for practice."

Freen didn’t respond. She had nothing to say to that. Instead, she simply stood up, gathering her things in a fluid motion that caught the attention of the people nearby. Her eyes darted to the front of the room, timing her move perfectly as the teacher’s attention was momentarily focused on the open textbook in front of him.

Freen slung her bag over her shoulder, her movements purposeful yet unhurried, as if she weren’t leaving just to escape the room but heading somewhere specific—to someone specific. She avoided Friend’s curious gaze, muttering a vague “I’ll catch up later” before stepping out into the hallway.

She glanced at her watch. Two minutes before the bell rings. She only needs to drop a few things in her locker, and if she times it right, she’ll catch Becca outside her classroom.

Her steps quickened as she neared the familiar row. It wasn’t even a question of where Becca would be—Freen knew her routine like clockwork, could probably find her with her eyes closed if she had to.

Her locker came into view; she was almost there when a voice called out to her.

“Freen!”

She didn’t need to look to know it was Billy. His voice had a way of curling around her like smoke, familiar and almost too comfortable. She turned, not bothering to hide the lack of enthusiasm in her eyes.

Billy stood a few steps away, a huge grin on his face. In his hand, a bouquet of flowers—red roses, the kind that always seemed to scream I’m sorry , even though they rarely were. He was dressed as usual, confident, handsome, like he always looked when he was trying to win her over.

But today, none of it had the usual effect.

Freen felt the smile slip from her face, the spark she usually felt when he did something like this evaporating almost immediately. It wasn’t that the gesture was unappreciated, but it felt... irrelevant. Distant, even.

Billy took a step forward, the bouquet held out to her like a peace offering. He waited, looking at her expectantly.

“I really think we should give it another try.”

She could feel the expectation in his eyes, but the words didn’t land. Her mind was elsewhere—dragged to a place it had been wandering to far too often lately. She glanced down at the roses, tracing the edges of the petals with her fingers, the motion mechanical, almost absent. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. It wasn’t even that she didn’t understand what he was trying to do. She just... didn’t feel it.

The moment stretched longer than it should have, the sounds of students shuffling in the background, exchanging whispers, their gazes bouncing from Freen to Billy with quiet interest. She could feel their gaze on her, always waiting for her to sink into the role she performed. The girl who had everything together. The one who knew just what to say and how to turn the situation to her advantage.

But not today.

Today, the roses in her hand seemed like more of a weight than a gift. Their normally delicious aroma was suffocating, and the thorn pressing against her palm seemed harsher than it should.

She tightened her grasp on the stems, allowing the little pain to anchor her in the present. For a brief moment, she considered dropping them completely and letting them tumble to the floor.

Instead, she gazed up at Billy, her grin forced and glossy but hollow in all the ways that mattered. It wasn't the bright, effortless type she gave when she was truly happy; it was the sort she saved for circumstances where expectations demanded more than she was ready to provide.

“You’re really not the type to give up, are you?” she said, the words leaving her lips before she even had a chance to think about them. They felt flat, like she was going through the motions.

Billy searched her eyes for any indication that she felt the same way. But Freen didn't feel the same rush or excitement that she used to get from this—this game, this ‘dance.’ Instead, she was drawn to a hollow feeling of responsibility.

The crowd around her erupted into quiet cheers and whispers, the sound dull to Freen’s ears, like it was coming from a distance.

Billy's smile wavered a little, but he continued on.

"I've been thinking about what we had and could yet have. Maybe... We could give it another go, Freen. Perhaps we can make it work this time. I miss us."

Freen couldn’t focus on him anymore. Billy’s gaze was searching her face, but it didn’t matter. She felt nothing.

Billy’s grin faltered. He wasn’t used to this Freen.

The crowd continued to murmur, waiting for her response, but she didn’t care.

And that was the problem.

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the bouquet, but even the physical sensation couldn’t pull her back into the present.

“Billy, can we... talk somewhere private?”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face before he masked it with another smile, though it was less certain now.

“Sure,” he said, still watching her closely, his tone unsure. “You want to go to the garden or...?”

Freen nodded without responding, already turning on her heel. Her grip on the bouquet was tight, though it felt increasingly pointless in her hands. She didn’t look back to see if he was following, but she could feel him trailing behind her, his footsteps hesitant, unsure of what was going on in her head. She didn’t care to ease his worries. She was already mentally a few steps ahead, craving a moment of quiet where she didn’t have to pretend.

They moved through the hallways, the noise from the students fading as they walked further into the school’s quieter corners. Finally, they reached the small garden at the back of the school, a secluded area where they could speak without being interrupted. Freen paused and faced him, feeling a touch of sorrow for involving him in this mess.

"I think we need to be honest here, Billy," she said, her voice firm but her heart racing. "Why do you still do this? Why are you still attempting to make it work?"

Billy's demeanor shifted, revealing a mixture of surprise and concern. He looked down at the bouquet she was still holding, then back at her, seeking her face for the answer he so needed to hear.

"Because I care about you, Freen," he said, coming forward slightly. "I understand that things haven't been great, but we've had some good times as well, and I believe we can have them again. I know we're better together."

Freen felt like her heart was made of stone. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, the idea of being with him had become... distant. Hollow. She stared at the roses in her hands for a moment longer, the vibrant colors of the petals almost too bright, too alive for the weight she felt in her chest.

“Billy, we’ve been here before,” she said, her voice quieter this time. “We’ve done this so many times. But nothing ever changes, does it? We try, we fall back into old habits, and then... it just fizzles out. Like it always does.”

Billy’s fingers twitched, almost like he was going to reach for her, but he didn’t. Instead, he examined her face, looking for something to hold onto.

"I get it," he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But we can make it work. We can start things over; we always managed to find a way. You’re the only one I want.”

Freen’s stomach twisted. She didn’t have the energy to keep convincing herself, to keep pretending. She wasn’t the same person she was the last time they tried this, and even if she wanted to pretend, it wouldn’t feel real.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Billy, I don’t think we’re the same anymore. Not the way you want us to be. I do not feel the same way you do. And I can't keep lying that I do."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze drawn to hers as if he was waiting for the joke, when she'd smile and realize she was just being stubborn.

 But there was no smile. No easy way out.

“Freen, please,” he said, his voice raw now. “Don’t do this.”

She felt something tighten in her chest, but it wasn’t the pull she used to feel when he spoke to her like that. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I think we both know this isn’t working. I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t come easily, but they didn’t waver either. She meant them.

Without another word, she took a few steps back toward him, holding out the bouquet. Billy blinked at her in confusion, still hopeful, waiting for her to change her mind.

“I think these are yours,” she said softly, her tone empty of any warmth. She placed the bouquet back into his hands and let go quickly, her fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.

He stared at the flowers before looking back up at her, the hurt clear in his eyes. She could feel the tug of something—maybe guilt, maybe pity—but she didn’t allow herself to linger in it. She didn’t want to feel bad for him. Not this time.

And then, without looking back, she turned and walked away. Each step felt heavier, but at the same time, lighter. The knot in her chest lingered, but it was not caused by regret; rather, it was the relief of being honest with herself. She was finally able to close a door that she had previously been terrified to close.

She did not look back as she disappeared around the corner. She did not need to.

xXXXx

Freen walked briskly across the school grounds, her cheer uniform still clinging to her from practice. She hadn’t even bothered to change—her bag slung over one shoulder and a slight ache in her muscles reminding her just how long the drills had gone today. The air outdoors was cooling from the lowering light, but her thoughts were anything but peaceful. The chat with Billy remained in the back of her thoughts.

Her mood immediately brightened when she saw Becca darting through the cars. Her bag hung lazily over her shoulder, her normally placid demeanor replaced by something tense. Freen's lips quirked into a smile, but it faded when Becca approached.

"You're late," Freen said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Let's just get this over with," Becca said flatly, without even giving her a glance as she moved by to the passenger side. Her tone was chilly and clipped, in stark contrast to the warmth Freen had grown to expect, even on Becca's bad days.

Freen blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... okay,” she said slowly, her brows knitting together as she followed her to the car. “Rough practice?”

Becca didn’t answer right away. She opened the door but didn’t climb in, instead leaning against it as if waiting for something. Finally, she turned her head slightly, “Are we doing this or not?”

Freen hesitated, “Yeah, of course.” She glanced around the parking lot, noting the number of students entering as practice sessions wrapped up for the day. “Let’s head inside. It’s quieter.”

Becca didn’t reply, just slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking toward the school building. Freen followed. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t press. Not yet.

They found an empty classroom on the far end of the hall, its door slightly ajar. Becca entered first, dropping her bag on a desk before turning to face Freen. Her arms crossed over her chest.

Freen followed, the aroma of chalk and old books lingering in the air before closing the door behind them. “Alright, what’s going on?” she inquired, leaning back against the door and observing Becca intently. "You are acting..." different."

Becca’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a grimace. “You said you wanted to meet up. So do what you have to do.”

Freen frowned, pushing off the door and taking a step closer. “Bec, come on. What is this about? Did I do anything wrong?"

Becca's gaze jerked away, and her jaw tightened. She appeared to be about to say something before shaking her head. "No. Forget it. Just—" She cut herself short and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Let's not complicate this, okay?"

Freen hardly had time to respond when Becca's hands grabbed the front of her uniform and drew her in. Freen's initial surprise faded, replaced by the familiar pull of Becca's presence, the way she fit against her like a missing puzzle piece.

But even as she kissed back, Freen felt it—the weight in the way Becca moved against her. Her hands were firm, almost desperate, clutching at Freen’s shoulders like she was trying to ground herself. Her fingers trembled faintly, her breaths shallow and uneven, the rhythm of it all just slightly off. Freen’s heart tightened, sensing the unspoken heaviness hanging between them, but Becca didn’t stop. If anything, she pressed closer, as though trying to drown out whatever it was she wasn’t ready to say.

Becca's hands roamed Freen's body with a mix of reverence and ferocity, pulling at her clothes, seeking skin-on-skin contact. She shoved Freen against the nearest wall, the cool plaster starkly contrasted with the heat flowing between them. Freen could feel Becca's arousal pressing against her, sending jolts of pleasure through her veins.

Becca quickly spun Freen around, locking her hands above her head. Freen gasped as Becca pressed into her, the sensation of her hips rolling against hers driving her insane. Becca's lips ran a path of fire down the nape of Freen's neck, her teeth scraping the delicate flesh, drawing a gasp from Freen’s throat.

Becca let go of Freen's hands, only to pull on her cheer skirts and drag them down with her panties swiftly. Freen exhaled in ragged gasps as she stepped out of the garments, her body aching for more of the pleasure that only Becca could bring.

As Becca positioned herself behind Freen and kicked her knees apart, Freen pressed herself up against the wall and spread her fingers out over the chilly surface. Her own anticipation growing. Becca's fingers penetrated her with a fluid thrust, completely filling her, causing Freen to cry out.

Freen's heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in her ears as Becca's hands claimed her with an almost savage intensity. The cool wall against her cheek was a stark contrast to the inferno raging within. Becca's breath was hot against her neck.

"You like that, huh?," Becca growled, her words sliding into Freen's ear like liquid silk, dominant yet distant. 

Her fingers pressed into Freen's hips, pushing her back with such force that she couldn't resist. Freen's body immediately responded, arching her back to suit Becca's demanding rhythm. She could feel the strain build inside her.

Freen's breath caught as Becca's hand snaked across her front, fingers expertly locating the bundle of nerves that begged for attention. With each executed stroke, Freen felt her control sliding away.

"Please," Freen begged, the word leaving her lips in a desperate plea. She needed more.

Becca's lips curled into a ghostly smile on Freen's skin, a tacit acknowledgement of the power she possessed. She quickened her tempo as Freen felt the waves of pleasure develop, cresting, and threatening to smash over her.

With a final, punishing thrust, Becca sent Freen spiraling into the abyss. Freen's cry echoed in the empty room. The pleasure was all-consuming; it left her boneless and panting against the wall.

As they disentangled, reality began to seep back in. Becca stepped away, leaving Freen to lean against the wall for support. Freen reaches out, leaning in, her fingers brushing Becca’s jaw as she tilted her head. The faint taste of vanilla lingered on her lips from their last kiss, and she wanted more, needed more to fill the space between them.

But, as Freen closed the gap, Becca twisted her head slightly, allowing the moment to fade into a momentary breath of space.

Freen froze, her fingers slipping away as a knot twisted deep within her gut. She glanced at Becca, looking for something to explain the gap.

Becca didn’t look at her. “We should go,” she said quietly, her voice even.

Freen felt her chest tighten, her brows drawing together. “Bec?”

“I’ve got stuff to do,” Becca muttered, brushing her hair out of her face as she reached for her bag. The fabric of her shirt was still crumpled from where Freen had gripped it earlier, but she didn’t smooth it out, didn’t care to fix it.

Freen stood still, her throat dry. “Wait—are you—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Becca said, cutting her off gently.

She stepped toward the door without another glance, her steps steady but her hand faltering for a brief second as it gripped the handle. For a moment, it seemed like she might say something else, but the pause passed. She pulled the door open and walked out.

Freen stayed rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the door that had swung shut behind Becca. The soft creak of its hinges echoed faintly, then faded.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, curling into loose fists before unfurling again.

Her gaze drifted down to her feet, to the faint scuff marks on the floor where their shoes had shuffled earlier, where Becca had stood so close.

Freen pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly through her nose as if that might steady her. But the hollow ache didn’t fade. Instead, it spread, curling through her like a slow, creeping fog.

What just happened?

xXXXx

Later that Saturday

Becca’s POV

Becca’s fingers ached as she worked through the last chords on her guitar. Irin’s drumsticks hit the final beat with a loud crack, reverberating off the walls and leaving an uneasy silence.

“That’s it for now,” Irin said, tossing her drumsticks onto the snare. "We are still hauling in the bridge. It’s sloppy.”

"It's not that bad," Jamie answered, leaning on his bass as if it were the only thing holding him up. His tone was calm, but the little furrow on his forehead betrayed his annoyance. "We've got time to clean it up."

"Do we?” Jane mumbled from behind the keyboard, hands resting on the keys. "The competition is already next weekend. We cannot afford to 'figure it out' at the last minute."

Becca remained silent as she unplugged her guitar and wrapped the cable.

With a sigh, Jamie combed through his hair. 

Jamie sighed, straightened up, and ran his hand over his hair. "Alright, we'll fix it tomorrow. Let's avoid killing each other over this.”

The group agreed and began putting their stuff away. Becca carefully slid her instrument into the case and shut the latches.

As the others left, Jamie lingered, resting against the garage wall while Becca put her bag over her shoulder.

"Hey."

“What?” Becca asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was wondering if we could still have that quick date before you head home, since you have that family stuff later. There's a diner down the block." 

The prospect of sitting down with Jamie after such a long day seemed appealing, but with the family dinner approaching, she wasn't sure she had the energy.

"You don't have to; I just thought it'd be nice to decompress a little before the next round of chaos." Jamie added hastily.

Despite her tiredness, Becca let out a breath and curled her lips into a slight smile. "Alright. Something quick."

"Great, my treat." Jamie exclaimed, pulling his jacket from the back of a chair. "But if Gale asks, we just reviewed the setlist again, okay?"

Becca let out a quiet laugh as she slung her guitar case over her shoulder. “Sure. Your secret’s safe with me.”

The crisp evening air welcomed them outside. For the first time that day, Becca felt like she could breathe, if only for a brief moment.

As Jamie led the way, his voice filled the air with talk about the competition, band dynamics, and rehearsal. The neon sign of the diner flickered in the distance. She took her phone out of her pocket as she followed along, nodding occasionally, her thoughts elsewhere.

The screen lit up, casting a pale glow on her face. A handful of notifications greeted her—most she ignored—but her thumb paused over Freen’s name.

Hey. How’s practice?

See you at dinner later

Call me if you’re not too tired

Becca exhaled sharply through her nose. She’d replied earlier, but the responses were short. An acknowledgment more than an invitation.

“Something wrong?” Jamie asked, glancing back as they reached the diner’s door.

Becca shook her head quickly, stuffing the phone back into her pocket. “No, it’s fine.”

As they settled into a booth near the window, Jamie waved down a server, already launching into an order for two coffees and something sweet. Becca barely registered it, her thoughts spiraling back to the quiet whispers that had swept through the school the past few days: 

Freen dumped Billy.

It should have felt like a victory. Instead, it left her with a hollow feeling that prompted more questions than answers.

Her eyes shifted to the window, her fingers traced an absent rhythm against the tabletop. The light from passing cars and lamps merged together in the glass.

It wasn't the breakup itself, but what came with it. Becca felt like she was always moving to Freen’s rhythm—spinning when Freen spun, pausing when Freen paused, never knowing if the music would play again or if the silence would hit her harder than she was ready for. She was tired of the dance altogether. Tired of wanting something that felt like gambling with a loaded chamber, never sure when it would all come crashing down. A decision today could be undone tomorrow, like flipping a switch.

“Here,” Jamie’s voice broke through, soft but firm, as he slid a mug of coffee across the table to her.

Becca blinked, pulling herself back from the spiral. The warmth of the mug grounded her. 

“Thanks.”

Jamie didn’t press her, just sat back, sipping his own coffee while the silence settled between them. For once, it didn’t feel like a demand for her to speak. It was a quiet offer, a space she could step into if she wanted—or let stay untouched.

Her phone buzzed again in her pocket. She didn’t pull it out this time, didn’t even flinch at the sound. Whatever it was, whoever it was, could wait. For now, she was done answering.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, glancing at her over the rim of his mug. “You look like you’re about to say something deep and profound.”

Becca faked a modest smile while stirring the coffee in her mug. "Profound? Me? Never."

He chuckled. "Yes, you're correct. Gale is the band’s philosopher, despite his snark. You’re more like the cryptic one." 

“Cryptic?”

"Yeah. You say just enough to make people wonder what's going through your mind, but not enough to let anyone in."

She laughed softly. "That sounds exhausting for them."

"Not for everyone," Jamie explained, his voice lighter now. "Some people like a good puzzle."

Becca took another drink of her coffee. Although the warmth was reassuring, it did little to clear the thoughts in her head. "You know, I've been thinking... We should probably rewrite the entrance of 'Echo.' It isn't as tight as it could be."

Jamie gave her a look. “Are you seriously bringing up the setlist right now?”

“What? It’s important.”

“Becca, the garage is closed for the night. You’re allowed to take a break.”

She let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against her chair. “Breaks are overrated.”

Jamie didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, and she fought the urge to squirm under it. “You know,” he said finally, “for someone who’s great at avoiding eye contact, you’re really bad at hiding when something’s eating at you.”

Her fingers tensed around the handle of her mug. She forced a shrug, keeping her voice light. “I’m fine, Jamie. Just tired.”

“Tired.” He repeated the word like it was a question, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, setting his mug down with a quiet clink. “Okay. Tired.”

Jamie let the silence stretch for a moment, clearly sensing her need for space, but not willing to let her stew in it. After a few seconds, he leaned forward with a grin that was almost too bright.

"Alright, let's break this mood, yeah? Let's do some dares."

A half-smile formed on Becca’s lips as she lifted a brow. “Seriously?” She didn't really need an explanation. Jamie had a way of persuading people to do absurd things, and she was quite sure he was trying to trick her into doing something stupid just to see how she reacted.

"Yep," Jamie said with a broadening smile. "You in? We can keep it simple. You do the dare, or... you sing a few lines of a cheesy love song in the middle of the diner. They don't have alcohol, so this will do. Your choice."

Becca's eyes flickered at the suggestion. It was harmless enough, but her gut told her this would get more ridiculous the longer it went on. Still, she needed something to distract her from the mess in her head.

Becca places her mug down with a quiet clink and crosses her arms. “Alright, fine. But if you make me do something ridiculous, I’m holding it over your head for life.”

"Oh, come on. When have I ever been ridiculous?"

"Should I start with last week, or do we need to dig further back?"

"Touché," he laughed in response. "Alright, here's the deal: I dare you to order the weirdest thing on the menu. No excuses, no bailing."

Becca scanned the menu, her eyes narrowing as she searched for something truly bizarre. Her finger landed on a particularly unusual option. "Alright, I'll take the... tofu surprise, extra spicy."

Jamie raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Tofu surprise? Bold choice. I figured you’d play it safe and stick with fries or something boring."

Becca pretended to be offended as she glanced at him. "I'm not that basic. Your turn."

As the game went on, Becca felt that, in spite of herself, her mood began to loosen up. Although Jamie's dares were foolish, they provided her with a diversion and temporarily removed her from her head.

Jamie leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, I’ve got one for you. I dare you to go up to someone in this diner and strike up a conversation. Bonus points if you can make them laugh."

Becca arched her brow, unimpressed: "You expect me to just... walk up to a random individual and start a conversation?"

"Exactly," Jamie said, clearly enjoying himself. "Nothing too crazy—just a casual conversation. But you need to make it count. Bonus points if they laugh, and twice as many if they smile first."

"Do you really believe I can't pull this off?"

Jamie shrugged, faking innocence. "I'm just saying, talk is cheap. Let's see if you've got the charm to back it up."

"Fine, but I'll do it my way."

She rose from the booth, scouring the diner for a target. The majority of the customers were elderly couples or single diners lost in their own worlds. But then her attention fell on a woman sitting at the counter, her dark hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her gray eyes scanning something on a napkin. Becca felt an odd pull toward her, and before she could think about it, she walked to the bar, determined to make the dare work.

When she approached, the woman's gaze lifted from her mug, her dark hair framing her face. Her gray eyes fixed on Becca, and a tiny smirk pulled at her lips, as if she already understood Becca's game.

Becca approached the counter, leaning casually on it as she caught the woman’s attention. “You seem like someone who doesn’t mind a little disruption. Care if I join you?”

“Disruption, huh? Is that what this is?”

“Only if you’re the type who gets thrown off easily,” Becca replied smoothly, her gaze steady.

The woman chuckled, setting her mug down. “Fair enough. So, what’s the angle here? You bored, or just drawn to the best seat in the house?”

Becca tilted her head, pretending to consider. “A little bit of both, maybe. But mostly, I thought you looked like someone worth talking to.”

“Flattery?” The woman raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening.

Becca straightened up, the easy grin slipping from her face as she ran a hand through her hair. “Alright, let’s be real—this whole ‘smooth talking’ act? Not my style. I’m not actually hitting on you.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”

Becca thumbed over her shoulder toward Jamie, who was blatantly pretending to study the menu. “My date over there dared me to come over and make you laugh. So... if you could just pretend I’m charming and hilarious, I’d really appreciate it.”

The woman's lips twisted into a grin. "Your date dared you? That’s bold."

Appearing just sheepish enough to appear genuine, Becca nodded. "Yeah, and it's kind of odd. But I'll make you a deal: pretend to laugh, and I'll owe you one. Anything sensible. Think of it as compensation for allowing me to pull you into this."

Her dark hair fell over one shoulder as the woman tilted her head, her gray eyes shining as they latched on Becca's. "Anything reasonable…That's an intriguing offer.”

Becca shrugged, attempting to maintain composure despite the fact that her heart raced in response to the woman's steady gaze. “Yes. I don't have much money on me right now, and I'd rather not spend the night in jail. Aside from that, I'm game."

The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, she regarded Becca for a time, allowing the silence to last just long enough to make her question herself. Finally, a slow, teasing smile spread across her lips.

With a dramatic flourish, she leaned back in her chair and let out a loud, over-the-top laugh that caused some tables nearby to gaze at her.

Becca groaned. "Alright, that went a little too far. Though technically speaking, you did laugh, so I suppose I owe you one.”

The woman leaned forward with a smile. “Correct. And don’t think I’ll forget it, Princess.”

Becca blinked. "Princess?"

"You look like you could use a little royal treatment."

Becca chuckled and rested her palm on the counter. "So, if I'm Princess, what does that make you?"

“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Before Becca could react, she noticed Jamie's slight wave from across the diner. She sighed and gave the woman a false salute. "Duty calls. Thank you for humoring me. Sorry about the dare.”

"There's no need to apologize. It made my night more fascinating,” she said with a smirk. "I'll catch you later, Princess."

Jamie smiled as she sat down. "She called you something nice, didn't she?"

“Princess,” Becca muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide her smirk.

“Princess?” Jamie burst out laughing. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

Becca shook her head at Jamie’s laughter. The warmth of the mug in her hands and the lingering sound of chatter around the diner eased the tension she’d been carrying all day.

For the first time in what felt like forever, her mind wasn’t consumed by Freen. No replaying cryptic texts or stolen glances.

"Princess," Jamie repeated, still grinning as he shook his head. "Did she just come up with that on the spot?"

Becca shrugged. "Yeah, she can think on her feet; I'll give her that."

Jamie lifted an eyebrow, his eyes still fixed on her. "You didn't seem too upset by it. You looked pretty comfortable over there."

Becca took a slow sip of her drink and rolled her eyes. "It's a dare, Jamie. Nothing more. She was just interesting, that's all."

Jamie laughed aloud. "Alright, alright. But you didn't exactly seem like you were in a hurry to come back."

"Don’t exaggerate, we only talked for a couple of minutes. I'm just fulfilling my end of the deal. You're welcome, by the way." 

He grinned but wisely chose not to continue the conversation, which Becca appreciated.

But as the minutes ticked by, reality started creeping back in. Tonight was the dinner. A gathering her mom had been so excited about, with the Chankimha’s sitting around their dining table.

And Freen.

It wasn’t the excitement she used to feel.

"Is everything good?”

She blinked, realizing she’d gone silent. “Sure, just... thinking about tonight.”

Jamie nodded and leaned back in his seat, taking the last sip of his coffee. "Got big plans tonight?"

“Something like that,” Becca answered blankly. She didn’t want to elaborate—didn’t want to explain that tonight wasn’t just another family dinner but one involving Freen’s family too.

“You don’t sound too excited about it.”

She shrugged, playing it off. “It’s just dinner. Nothing special.”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Becca sighed, the corners of her mouth pulling up. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Not when I know you're holding back," Jamie said, leaning forward. "Come on, it's just me. If it's a disaster waiting to happen, at least I can give you some encouragement."

Becca offered him a soft laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jamie grinned. "Good. Just remember, whatever's waiting for you tonight, it can't be worse than getting called 'Princess' by a random stranger in a diner."

Becca gave him a sidelong glance and rolled her eyes. "You're really not letting that go, are you?"

Jamie grinned teasingly, opening the door for her as they head out. “Not a chance.”

Becca felt the night air envelop her as they went outside. Though the prospect of tonight continued to nag at the back of her mind, the banter had relieved some of the pressure on her chest.

“Thanks.”

Jamie turned in surprise. “For what?”

"For tonight, for distracting me. Even if it was only for a short while."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. "Anytime. I’ll drive you home. I’ve got my car parked at my place, so it's no trouble."

Becca paused for a moment. "Alright. Thanks."

As they walked to Jamie’s house, the chill of the night air brushed against Becca’s skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the diner.

When they reached his car, Jamie held the door open, and Becca slid into the passenger seat with a quiet thanks.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

It was a text from Freen.

We're at your place. Can’t wait to see u

Chapter Text

Freen sprawled across her bed, the glow of her phone casting soft shadows on her face as she scrolled through her texts. Becca's replies were short, almost curt, and it gnawed at Freen in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. Her mind kept circling back, dissecting every word and the silences in between.

F: Hey. How’s practice?

F: See you at dinner later

F: Call me if you’re not too tired

B: It was okay. See u later

Freen stared at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the text field. That was it. No mention of how practice went, no teasing, no warmth. Just... Okay .

She pressed her palms over her face, trying to think back.

Last Tuesday? Becca seemed fine then. Freen had even brushed their shoulders together a little longer than necessary, and Becca hadn’t pulled away. Maybe it was after practice the other day? Had she been too pushy?

She grabbed her phone again, her finger hovering over Becca’s name in her chat list. She wanted to ask, to say something, anything. But what could she say that wouldn’t sound desperate?

She glanced at the gallery app and tapped on the pictures from their day at Johnny’s. She didn’t have enough photos of them together. They had spent the whole afternoon hanging out, but only a couple of shots were taken.

There were only a few. Too few. It wasn’t enough.

Freen scrolled through the images—Becca smiling, laughing, her eyes sparkling.

She needed more. More of Becca. More time. More pictures.

Freen set the phone down and exhaled slowly, the familiar ache in her chest tightening as she thought about dinner. Would Becca even want to sit next to her at the table?

She wandered to the small box resting on her desk. The necklace inside was simple, delicate—a gold chain with a rose pendant. It was pretty. Maybe it could also serve as an apology of sorts, a quiet way to make up for the moments she’d hurt Becca without realizing it or the times she’d let her down.

The bell attached to it was almost unnoticeable, but Freen knew it would make a faint, almost imperceptible sound when Becca moved. 

Freen could imagine it: Becca’s delicate neck adorned with the necklace. She would always know where she was—when she arrived, when she left, when she was about to slip away.

She shivered, half from the thrill of the thought and half from how wrong it felt.

Shaking her head, Freen set the bracelet down on her nightstand, her heart pounding. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

Freen glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes narrowing at the loose strands of hair framing her face. She pulled her hair free from the messy bun, letting it cascade down her back. Tonight wasn’t a night for “just fine.” Becca was going to be there, and Freen wanted to look unforgettable.

She moved to her closet, her fingers gliding across the rows of neatly hung clothes until she stopped at a soft blush-pink dress. It was simple yet exquisite, with a square neckline and a fitted bodice that flared slightly at the waist. The dress reached her mid-thighs. The fabric was smooth and light, with just enough movement to keep things interesting without being overbearing.

She slid it on, stroking the fabric over her hips and adjusting the straps to fit precisely. To finish the outfit, Freen draped a soft, light gray cardigan over her shoulders, letting the fabric flow gently and fall just over her waist. It was the ideal combination of warmth and style. She opted for white kitten heels, which were polished and subtle, providing a hint of grace without being overly dramatic.

At her vanity, she brushed out her hair until it shone, deciding to leave it down in soft waves. Her makeup was understated yet elegant: a sweep of rosy blush, a touch of highlighter to add a gentle glow, and a soft coral lipstick that perfectly complemented her pink dress. A subtle stroke of brown eyeliner framed her eyes, enhancing their depth without overpowering her look.

Freen took a step back from the vanity, her gaze shifting to the full-length mirror. She let her eyes travel over her reflection, studying every detail from head to toe.

She tilted her head, studying herself. She stood taller, shoulders squared, and her chin lifted slightly. But there was also something else—a flicker of nervousness. Was it enough? Would Becca even notice?

Freen let out a soft laugh, more scoff than amusement. She adjusted her earrings, noticing a slight gleam of gold in the mirror.

She turned slightly, angling her mirror to capture the delicate flow of the blush-pink cloth. "Why am I overthinking it?” Her voice came out harsher and tinted with irritation. Freen didn’t do nervous, not over something as simple as dinner. But her hand still strayed to her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear and then untucking it a second later.

Finally, she straightened her posture. "Okay," she said softly, giving herself a final nod.

Her gaze drifted back to the gold necklace resting in its box on the vanity. The rose pendant gleamed softly, and the thought of it around Becca’s neck sent a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar through her chest. She tightened her jaw. "It’s just a gift," Freen muttered under her breath, as if saying it aloud would silence the thoughts swirling in her mind. "Nothing more."

A car horn from outside broke through her spiraling thoughts. Freen’s head snapped toward the window, and she crossed the room quickly, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer outside. Her father’s black sedan eased into the driveway, coming to a gentle stop. Through the passenger window, her stepmother offered a cheerful wave, her smile visible even from this distance.

“They’re early,” Freen muttered under her breath, irritation flickering before she let the curtain fall back into place.

She grabbed the necklace box from the vanity, hesitating for a moment before tucking it into the small clutch on her desk.

The doorbell rang, followed by her father's voice calling out to her. "Freen! Let's go, we're waiting!"

"Coming!" She called back.

She grabbed her clutch and made her way downstairs.

Her father stood by the entrance, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt. Her stepmother stood alongside him, polite but distant, as usual. She was clearly trying to connect, but Freen wasn't ready to let her in just yet.

"Wow," her father replied, giving her an approving nod. "You look great, sweetheart."

"Thanks," Freen said, with a nice, neutral smile.

Her stepmom gave a faint smile too, her voice a little warmer but still a bit formal. “You look lovely, Freen.”

“Thank you, Alma,” Freen said, not quite meeting her eyes.

The cold evening air brushed against her legs as she climbed into the back seat. Her dad started the car, and they were off.

Freen pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She opened the messaging app, her gaze flickering to Becca's contact name. A small frown crept onto her face when she saw that Becca hadn’t read her texts yet.

‘Is she ignoring me?’ Freen thought with a flicker of irritation. ‘Or is she just too busy with... something else?’

She tried to push the thought away.

Her fingers tightened around the phone for a moment before she texted again, this time a simple: We’re on our way.

She stared at the screen, waiting, but the “Read” receipt never came.

With a sigh, Freen locked her phone and tucked it back into her bag, her thoughts simmering. She had never been one to wait around for anyone. She hated how much it gnawed at her, the unanswered messages making her feel... unimportant.

The car turned onto the Armstrongs' street, and Freen looked up, the familiar sight of their house coming into view.

Her dad slowed the car as they pulled up to the curb, and Freen glanced at her stepmom. "Here we are."

Alma offered a small smile, clearly eager for the evening to unfold. "It’ll be nice to spend some time with the Armstrongs," she said, her voice cheerful.

Rawee opened the door with her signature warm smile, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw Freen. “Freen! It’s so good to see you!”

“Hi, Auntie Rawee,” Freen said, her lips curving into a smile as Rawee pulled her into a brief but affectionate hug.

Rawee stepped back, her hands lingering on Freen’s arms as she beamed. "Look at you! You are as gorgeous as ever. That dress looks great on you."

"Thank you, Auntie," Freen murmured, blushing a little.

Rawee turned to Freen's father. "Phat, it's been too long."

"Good to see you, Rawee," Phat replied, giving a pleasant nod.

"And this must be Alma," Rawee replied, her tone polite yet friendly as she extended her hand to Freen's stepmother.

"Yes, it's nice to finally meet you," Alma said, smiling as she shook Rawee's hand. 

“Please, come in,” Rawee said, ushering them into the cozy living room. The scent of something savory wafted from the kitchen.

As Phat and Alma settled into the room, Rawee turned to them with a smile. “Becca’s still at practice. I can offer you all some refreshments before dinner if you like.”

“That’s alright,” Alma said, settling into a chair. “We’re happy to wait.”

Rawee chuckled. “You know how teenagers are, always running late. But she’s been working so hard with the band. She’ll be thrilled to see all of you here.”

Freen nodded politely, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Becca had been at practice for hours now, and it wasn’t like her to stretch it this long. Her mind flickered with possibilities. Was Jamie keeping them late again? Or worse, did she stop somewhere else after practice?

It wasn’t like she had a reason to worry. Becca was just... taking her time.

‘She should’ve texted,’ Freen thought, the irrational edge of frustration making her jaw tighten slightly. But she forced herself to focus on Rawee, who was already asking after her school and cheerleading.

“She’ll be back soon,” Rawee said in a light and reassuring tone.

Freen managed a small smile, even as her mind remained a few steps ahead. ‘She better be.’

She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving quickly over the screen.

F: We’re at your place. Can’t wait to see u

She stared at the message for a second before hitting send, then slipped her phone back into her cardigan’s pocket. Her lips pressed together as she glanced toward the door, hoping for the sound of footsteps—or better yet, Becca’s voice.

Meanwhile, her father and Alma were deeply engrossed in conversation with Rawee. Phat laughed as he told an incident from work. Rawee, ever the gracious hostess, nodded along.

Freen's gaze, however, kept jumping to the door and then to her phone, which was stubbornly barren of any new notifications. Her fingers curled into fists. ‘What’s keeping her?’

Her thoughts spiraled, conjuring images she didn’t want to entertain. ‘What if she’s with Jamie? Or someone else?’ She shook the idea off quickly.

A sudden car honk outside broke the chatter in the room.

“Oh?” Rawee said, tilting her head. “I wonder who that could be. Becca didn’t bring her car today.”

Freen’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes snapping toward the window.

The room’s attention shifted to the door, but Freen felt the pulse of her thoughts hammering louder. Her breath caught slightly as footsteps approached, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot making the moment stretch unbearably long.

Her phone buzzed faintly in her pocket, but Freen didn’t check it. Her focus was laser-sharp on the figure coming up the walkway. ‘If it’s Jamie…’

She clenched her jaw, taking a slow breath as she smoothed her dress for the fifth time that evening.

The door swung open, and Rawee’s warm smile greeted Becca and the boy standing beside her. “Becca, you’re home,” she said, relief and happiness in her voice. Her gaze shifted to Jamie, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise.

Freen’s breath hitched the moment Becca walked through the door.

But then her eyes dropped—flicked down to Becca’s outfit. Black shirt, practical and simple, clearly for practice, and shorts that rode higher than Freen was comfortable with. She had to swallow hard, watching how the fabric clung to Becca’s thighs. The shorts were the kind that made sense for a grueling band session—something she could move in, nothing fancy or fussy. But that didn’t stop the annoyance from bubbling up inside her.

Becca brushes off a bit of dust from her sleeve. “Mom, this is Jamie—James Foster, but everyone calls him Jamie.” She motioned toward him casually, but there was a small hint of fondness in her voice that made Freen’s chest tighten.

Jamie gave a polite look and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Armstrong."

Rawee's face brightened when she shook his hand. "Oh, so you're that Jamie! Becca mentions you when she talks about her band; she says you're always looking out for her."

Freen's gut churned. 'Becca talks about him? To her mom?' She looked at Becca as if their casual introduction hadn't just thrown Freen's thoughts in disarray.

Jamie stroked the back of his neck, letting out a timid chuckle. "Well, Becca is the heart of the band. Looking out for her is just part of my job."

Rawee grinned at the answer. "You seem like a good friend," she added, pointing to the dining room. “Why don't you join us for dinner? I'd like to get to know you better."

Jamie quickly answered, "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose; I just gave Becca a ride home." 

"Nonsense," Rawee declared, gesturing dismissively. "I rarely get the chance to meet Becca's friends, and this is an excellent opportunity. It's not every day that I get to sit down with the people she cares about."

Freen gritted her teeth, her gaze darting between Jamie and Rawee. ‘ People she ‘cares’ about?’

Rawee smiled as she turned to them. "What do you guys think? Would it be okay if Jamie stayed for dinner?"

Phat laughed warmly and patted Freen on the back. "Of course! Any friend of little Becbec is also a friend of ours."

Freen’s chest tightened when she heard the familiar nickname, one usually reserved for intimate family moments and in between them both. Tonight, however, it felt misplaced, almost mocking to her.

Alma smiled warmly. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Rawee clasped her hands together, her tone bright. "Perfect. Come in, Jamie, and make yourself at home."

Jamie hesitated for a moment before stepping inside with a sheepish smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong. I appreciate it."

As he walked past Becca, Freen caught the subtle brush of his hand against Becca’s arm. Her breath hitched, and irritation simmered beneath her calm facade. She smoothed her dress again, her fingers pressing firmly against the fabric this time as if to anchor herself.

Becca turned to Freen, her voice quiet. "Sorry, I didn’t text back."

Freen's lips formed a trained, easy smile. "No worries. Looks like you had your hands full."

Rawee guided them to the dining table, her voice polite, and beckoned for everyone to sit down. "Come on, make yourself comfy. Dinner is ready!"

Becca thanked her with a faint grin before turning to face Jamie. She motioned toward the chairs around the table. “You can sit here, Jamie,” she said, clearly offering the seat next to hers.

Freen didn’t hesitate. She made her move with ease, stepping in closer to Becca. Without missing a beat, she slid into the other unoccupied chair beside her, settling herself with a fluid motion.

Becca looked up, her expression astonished. "Are you joining us here?" she inquired.

Freen simply nodded, smiling widely. “Of course. It wouldn’t feel right to sit anywhere else.”

Rawee, noting the seating arrangement, smiled with satisfaction. “Looks like everyone’s settled. Shall we begin?” she said, her voice light.

Jamie, standing for a moment, seemed to process the change in the seating dynamic. Without making a fuss, he moved to the seat beside Becca, on her other side.

Rawee, still smiling, placed her hands gently on the table. “Before we dig in, let’s take a moment for grace.”

Freen glanced around the table, eyes softening as Rawee’s inviting tone filled the room. It was a familiar, comforting tradition, one she didn’t mind at all.

Rawee reached across the table and gently took Freen’s hand, urging her to join the circle. Freen’s fingers curled around hers easily.

“Come on, everyone. Let’s hold hands,” Rawee encouraged.

Freen slid her hand over to Becca’s without a second thought. She allowed her hand to linger, feeling the familiar warmth, though she kept her gaze steady. The simple touch sent a brief surge of something tender through her, but she masked it with a composed smile.

She turned to Becca, who met her gaze with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was warmth in it, but it felt... different. A little cooler than usual. Becca’s fingers brushed lightly against hers before locking into place. The contact was there, but there was a slight hesitation in the way Becca held on.

Becca’s gaze flickered away quickly, as if to avoid lingering on the connection, her attention drifting to the table. Freen's fingers stayed in hers for a second longer, but even this small contact did not erase the unseen gap between them.

The quiet was broken by Rawee's steady, gentle voice. "Thank you, Lord, for this food, this family, and the blessings of spending the evening together. May we always cherish the love we share and continue to grow in kindness and joy. Amen."

As the dishes were passed around, the soft clink of plates filled the brief pause after the prayer. Jamie turned to Becca with a friendly smile. "Do you want some of the mashed potatoes?" he asked, nodding toward the creamy mound in the center of the table.

Becca smiled back at him. "Yeah, that looks good.”

Before Jamie could move, Freen’s hand slid over the serving spoon, scooping a generous portion of the mashed potatoes onto Becca’s plate. “Here you go,” she said smoothly, eyes briefly meeting Becca’s.

Becca looked down at her plate, her fingers brushing the edge of the porcelain as she absorbed the gesture. She didn’t look up at Freen right away. Instead, she slid her gaze back to the rest of the table, her hands carefully adjusting the food in front of her.

 "So, Becca, how is your band going along? I heard from Rawee that you've been busy practicing." Phat’s voice broke the silence, warm and curious.

Becca straightened slightly and gave him a pleasant smile. "It has been going nicely, thank you. We'll be representing the school at a competition next Saturday. It's the first one for us this year." 

The mention of the competition made Freen perk up, her fork hesitating in mid-air. "A competition?" she repeated, turning her head slightly. "Where?"

"Downtown," Becca responded, her gaze steady but not fixed on Freen. "It is a regional thing. Schools from all over will be present."

"That sounds exciting," Alma said. "You should be proud, Becca. What is the name of your band?"

"The Mavericks. We've been working on the setlist for weeks."

Jamie nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair. "Becca has been crushing it on vocals. She's what sets us apart." 

Becca gave him a brief but critical glance. "It’s a group effort, Jamie. Everyone has a part to play. 

Freen's gaze shifted between the two, her grasp on her fork tightening.

“You’ll have to let us know how it goes,” Phat said, his tone jovial. “I bet you’ll blow the crowd away, Becbec.”

“Thanks, Uncle Phat. We’re hoping for the best.”

Rawee smiled proudly, patting Becca’s arm. “You’ll do great, sweetheart. You always do.”

"Jamie, are you also in the band?" Phat said, turning to face him with curiosity.

"Yes, I play bass," Jamie said, grinning modestly as he nodded. “However, everyone comes to see Becca.”

Phat laughed heartily, his eyes gleaming with delight. "Oh, I see! You're the one who makes sure she's in the spotlight all the time. No wonder the band is doing so well." 

Becca, who had been quietly drinking her water, sent him a warning glance. "Uncle Phat…"

“What?” Phat said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying Jamie’s got your back. Maybe even more than the rest of the band, eh?”

Becca set her glass down carefully, her posture stiffening ever so slightly. “It’s a team effort,” she said evenly, her tone polite.

Rawee chuckled softly, placing a warm hand on Becca’s arm. "It’s wonderful to hear how well you all work together. You always have such nice things to say about your bandmates—especially Jamie."

Freen’s eyes flicked to Becca, and though her expression remained composed, her gaze sharpening ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a faint line. She leaned back in her chair, one hand resting just close enough to brush Becca’s chair.

Jamie, with his elbows resting easily on the table, grinned at Rawee. "Becca is the heart of the band. She brings everything together."

Phat stared at Jamie and Becca and laughed. "You know, I've been sitting here thinking," he said, smiling knowingly as he leaned back. “Jamie, you’re not just a bandmate, are you? Seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time with Becca.”

Becca shot him a sharp look, her fork halting midway to her mouth. “Uncle Phat,” she warned.

Jamie chuckled, glancing at Becca with an easy smile. “Well, Uncle Phat’s not wrong. Becca and I spend a lot of time together, especially in the band. And yeah, I did ask her out a couple of times,” he admitted casually, his gaze flicking between Becca and Phat. “I was captivated the first time I heard her sing. When we were doing auditions, I couldn’t help but join in on the duet.”

Freen’s eyes sharpened at the word “duet.” She turned her gaze to Becca. “A duet?” Her tone was light, but there was something more there as her eyes lingered on Becca for a moment longer than necessary. “You never mentioned this.”

Becca hesitated, but then she smiled neutrally. “It wasn’t a big deal, Freen. Just an audition,” she replied, trying to keep the conversation casual, though her fingers tightened around her utensils just slightly.

“I knew there was something special about the way you two click.” He leaned forward, raising his eyebrows at both Becca and Jamie. “You two definitely make a good pair.” He grinned playfully. “It’s like you’re practically made for each other.”

Freen's smile remained intact, but her eyes darkened slightly, narrowing in a way that indicated her displeasure with her dad’s comment. Her gaze briefly caught Becca's, hoping for a reaction, but Becca was looking down, plainly avoiding the tension that was rising to the surface.

Freen cleared her throat softly, letting the moment pass without further comment. “Well, it’s good to know you’re both enjoying the band,” she added lightly.

Phat didn’t miss a beat. “You know, it sounds like you two should go on a double date sometime,” he said with a grin, glancing between Jamie and Becca. “Maybe bring Billy along, too. Get the full set of couples going.”

Freen’s jaw tightened at the mention of Billy, and her fingers drummed briefly against the edge of her plate. “Billy and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. But maybe another time." She kept her tone light, steering the conversation away from veering into uncomfortable territory.

For a moment, Becca’s fingers froze on her glass, a faint tremble betraying a flicker of unease before she quickly masked it. Her eyes darted briefly to Freen, then quickly dropped to her plate.

Alma shot Phat a playful but firm look. “Phat, stop teasing them so much,” she said, her voice light but carrying a hint of reprimand. “You’re making them squirm.” She shot Becca an apologetic smile before turning back to her husband. “Let them eat in peace, will you?”

Rawee joined in with a light laugh, shaking her head. “Honestly, Phat. You’re always trying to play matchmaker.” She gestured toward Becca and Freen with a playful tilt of her head. “They’re fine, you know. Just let them enjoy the evening without all this talk about dates.”

Phat raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Alright, alright. No more matchmaking from me.” He leaned back.

The light banter at the table barely registered over the sound of her own heartbeat. Freen's vision tunneled as she watched Jamie interact with Becca, each casual touch, each shared glance, were setting her teeth on edge. Her grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white, her control slipping.

With a swift inhale, Freen masked her turmoil behind a composed smile, taking another sip of her water, allowing her eyes to flick subtly to the two people beside her. Their discussion appeared light and innocuous, but Freen's thoughts transformed it into something different altogether—something private and intimate.

It seemed as if Becca was right beside her, but also far away. Freen had to force herself not to look at Jamie, whose easygoing manner made her stomach turn with silent resentment.

Now they were clearing their plates to prepare for dessert. The room was filled with laughter and light conversation. Freen, however, was separated from the cozy family atmosphere and plunged into a cold silence.

Becca, still talking to Jamie and her parents, appeared utterly unaware of the chaos that was consuming the girl beside her. 

But she would notice soon enough.

Freen's hand slid beneath the table, her fingertips brushing over the fabric of Becca's shorts. She experienced a surge of satisfaction as Becca's discussion with Jamie faltered for a brief moment. The reaction was faint, undetectable to anyone who wasn't totally concentrated on the girl next to her.

Under the dining table cloth, Freen let her fingers roam, tracing delicate patterns along the inside of Becca's thigh. She moved carefully, enjoying the smooth warmth of Becca's flesh under her touch.

Becca stiffened beside her, the muscles beneath her fingertips tensing in surprise or confusion—or both. However, there was no attempt to move away, no embarrassed glances in her direction, just an unnoticeable hitch in her breath.

As Freen saw the slight flush appear on Becca's cheeks, a wave of primal triumph swept through her. She maintained a delicate yet persistent touch, enjoying the fact that she was the one causing her arousal, that she had the ability to turn her into a silent stew of need in the midst of a harmless family dinner.

Freen focused on Becca’s increasingly faint gasps as Jamie continued to speak, his words fading into white noise. She was determined to win this lonely, silent fight for attention no matter the cost.

"Are you okay?" Jamie asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah,” Becca said quickly. She forced a smile and set her glass down carefully. “Excuse me for a moment. Need to go to the bathroom.”

As Becca pushed her chair back and stood, Freen leaned slightly to the side, her gaze following Becca. A small smirk pulled at her lips, her voice low enough for only Becca to notice. "Don't take too long."

Phat's passionate narration stole the attention of the other guests at the table, leaving them none the wiser.

After a few minutes, Freen excused herself from the table. "I need to make a call for some arrangements with cheer practice," she announced, standing up and offering a polite smile to the others. "...I might be a while."

Rawee nodded, waving her off. "Take your time, dear. We'll still be here when you get back."

With a smile that never made it to her eyes, Freen reciprocated the gesture. She left the table and glanced down the hallway where Becca had disappeared moments before.

She moved slowly yet silently. The bathroom door was slightly open when she got there, letting light from the interior seep into the dark corridor. Freen's fingertips lingered on the doorknob. From within, she could hear the faint sound of running water.

With a slight push, Freen opened the door farther, exposing Becca standing at the sink with her back to the door. Becca's head jumped up at the sound; her eyes met Freen's in the mirror. Becca's surprised expression swiftly changed to something more cautious. 

Her attention was then drawn to the lock turning with a faint click that reverberated across the little room. Freen folded her arms casually across her chest and leaned against the door.

“What are you doing…?" Becca turned away from the mirror, holding the sink's edge, and faced Freen directly, a trace of annoyance on her face.

Freen's lips curled into a smile. "You rushed out pretty quickly. Thought I'd check on you."

"I'm fine," Becca answered, tightening her grip on the porcelain.

"You seemed… distracted," she said, decreasing the gap between them. "Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"

Her remark was filled with fake innocence, but the curve of her lips and the gleam in her eyes told a different tale. Soft heels clicking against the bathroom tiles resounded as Freen moved closer, until she was just inches away from Becca.

Becca shifted her head slightly, continuing to stare at the wall rather than meeting Freen's gaze. "I said I'm fine," she said in a firmer tone.

Freen tilted her head, her fingers brushing lightly against the sink’s edge as if testing the boundaries. “Are you?” she murmured.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Freen,” she muttered, finally meeting her gaze.

Freen’s smile widened, a flicker of arrogance playing at the corners of her mouth. "I never claimed to be subtle," she said calmly, her voice lowering as her fingertips delicately brushed Becca's wrist.

Freen's fingers lingered longer than required before she released them, her expression enigmatic as she straightened. Her attention moved quickly to Becca's wrist before returning to her face.

“Funny how some things slip your mind,” Freen said lightly. “I mean, Jamie must be a pretty important person for your mom to know about him. And yet…” She let the words trail off, her lips pressing into a faint smirk.

Becca froze. "That's not what it is," she stated evenly.

“Isn't it?" Freen inquired, raising an eyebrow. Her arms crossed loosely across her chest as she tilted her head to study Becca. 

Becca's mouth opened and then closed again. "I didn't… It is not like that, Freen. Jamie has just—"

"A duet," Freen interrupted, her voice light but with weight. The smirk disappeared, leaving her expression uncharacteristically neutral. "You never mentioned that, either." 

Becca blinked, caught off guard by the subtle shift in Freen's tone. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she replied quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh?” Freen’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it stopped short of her eyes, the glimmer of amusement not entirely hiding something deeper. "You're telling me that you came into an audition, Jamie happened to join you, and it didn't mean anything?"

Becca swallowed hard, her back pressing against the sink as Freen took a small step forward.

“It wasn’t planned,” Becca said finally, her voice almost defensive. “He overheard me singing and joined in. That’s all.”

Freen’s gaze sharpened, her steps slow as she closed the gap between them. Her voice dropped to a low, cutting whisper. “What else are you keeping from me, Rebecca?”

Becca’s eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief. A flicker of irritation crossed her face, mingling with a trace of confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Freen let out a hollow laugh, leaning back slightly as if the distance would help her rein in her growing frustration. “I mean, should I be preparing for a sudden wedding announcement now?” Her tone was sarcastic, biting, but the ache in her chest betrayed her.

Becca's jaw tightened, and her fingers curled slightly at the sides. "You don't get to do this," she murmured, her voice calm but filled with exhaustion. "You don't get to act like this when—"

"When what?" Freen cut in, her chest clenching as she prepared herself for whatever the other girl could say.

Becca paused, shaking her head. "Forget it. This is pointless."

Freen moved quickly, her hand flying out to grab Becca's wrist and tugging her back forcefully but gently. "You're not going anywhere."

Becca's eyes were burning as she turned to face her. "Freen—"

She was stopped short when Freen moved a hand to the small of her back, drawing her closer. The kiss was swift and unexpected, silencing any more protests. Freen’s lips pressed against hers with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, her other hand cradling Becca’s face to keep her still.

When Freen eventually pulled back, her breathing was heavier; she reached for her cardigan, slowly slipping it off her shoulders. Becca's gaze followed the movement, a confused expression on her face.

“What are you doing?” Becca whispered.

Freen took a while to respond. Instead, she carefully but firmly knotted the cardigan around Becca's wrists. She gazed up into Becca's eyes. "Making sure you don't run."

Freen's heart hammered in her chest as she stood back to examine her handiwork. The cardigan wrapped around Becca's wrists, effectively tying her without causing discomfort. Becca tested the bindings, her slim fingers lightly tugging on the fabric, but Freen was certain it was secure.

Freen smirked as she observed Becca's hopeless attempts to free herself. She paused to take in the image, her attention drawn to the subtle flush on Becca's cheeks, the fast rise and fall of her breast, and the way her eyes flickered in defiance. 

Freen stepped closer again, her breath ghosting over Becca’s lips, her hands sliding along her waist to pull her against her.

She reached out to trace the line of Becca's jaw with her fingertips.

She watched Becca's lips part, a soft gasp escaping as Freen's thumb grazed the corner of her mouth. "You look so beautiful when you're flustered," she murmured softly.

Her hand moved from Becca's jaw down the nape of her neck, her fingers entwined in the delicate strands of her hair. Freen moved Becca's head back, revealing the delicate slope of her throat. She applied a series of soft, teasing kisses to the sensitive flesh. She tugged Becca closer with her other hand, fingers spread across her waist. Taking her time, she felt up Becca's figure through her shirt's thin material.

The sweetness of Becca's skin was intoxicating, and Freen found herself wanting more of it with every second that went by. Becca's body trembled slightly, and she grinned at the impact her touch had on the normally self-contained girl.

Becca's breathing quickened as Freen's teeth grazed her pulse point. She struggled to keep a little moan from escaping, but it managed to get out, barely audible.

"Shhh," Freen whispered against her skin, a wicked smile twisting her lips as she drew back slightly to meet Becca's gaze. "You don't want anyone to hear you, do you? Although… I wouldn't mind if Jamie hears it."

Becca's eyes widened in a moment, followed by anger. "Freen, this is not the time or place," she growled, her body betraying her by leaning into the touch she was attempting to resist.

"Says the girl who's practically melting," Freen muttered as she moved her hands around Becca's waist, lowering further to tickle the edge of her shorts.

She looked at Becca's face closely, observing how her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly in anticipation.

Freen deftly worked the buttons on Becca's shorts. She took her time, savoring the moment, her gaze never leaving Becca's.

"You can try to let someone else in," Freen said quietly, sliding her fingertips over Becca's skin. "But they'll never feel like this."

Becca shivered at her words as Freen’s hand slipped beneath the fabric of her shorts, her fingers teasing the soft skin of her thighs as she took it off. Freen could feel the muscle jump reflexively under her touch, as if it was a silent invitation for her to explore further.

Becca's breath caught as Freen's fingers rose higher, and her body reflexively arched towards the contact. With a smirk on her lips, Freen let her fingers dance over the front of Becca's panties, tracing the already damp fabric with teasing strokes. She enjoyed the short, frantic gasps that Becca let out, as well as the way her hips bucked slightly, pursuing the friction that Freen was anxious to provide—and deny.

Freen kept her gaze fixed on Becca's face, taking in the image of her struggle. The desire to keep quiet and not bring attention to what they were doing simply made the situation more dire. Freen knew she was playing with fire, but the thrill of perhaps being caught was a risk she was ready to take.

Slowly, almost cruelly, Freen hooked her fingers under the edge of Becca's panties. She pushed the fabric away, exposing Becca to her touch.

The sight of Becca's core, shimmering with arousal, sent a rush of primal satisfaction through Freen. She was already wet. The knowledge that she was the one who had triggered this reaction, that she was the one who could make Becca lose control, was extremely enticing.

Freen ran her fingertips gently over Becca's moist folds, her touch delicate and teasing. Becca's body trembled with her touch, her lips squeezed together in a desperate attempt to hide any noise that might escape. Freen's smirk spread as she saw Becca try to remain silent.

“Ah-...!” With a suddenness that made Becca's eyes widen, Freen plunged a finger into her, the wet heat enveloping her digit completely. She moved her hand in a rhythm that was both hard and fast, her finger expertly curling to hit that sweet spot inside Becca with each stroke.

Becca's body arched into the contact, her eyes clamped tight as she struggled to keep her moans under control. Freen felt the other girl's muscles tighten around her finger, her body reacting to the sight of Becca so completely undone.

Becca's hands, still held together by the cardigan, seized Freen's shoulders, her claws sinking into the fabric of her dress. Freen could feel the tightness in her grip, adding another finger to stretch Becca even further.

As Freen's fingers stroked inside her, Becca buried her face in the curve of her neck, scraping the skin with her teeth to suppress the moans that threatened to escape. Freen found the sensation of Becca's teeth against her neck, combined with the tight, wet heat around her fingers, almost unbearable.

Freen's breath was now coming in short, quick bursts. Her heart racing as she pushed Becca closer to the edge. She could feel Becca's muscles tightening, like a spring about to snap.

The bathroom was filled with their heavy breathing, the smooth, repeating sounds of Freen's fingers digging into Becca's, together with her faint and muted cries.

Freen could sense Becca was close, her body writhing against her hand and her hips meeting each of Freen's fingers with a distinct eagerness. With a final, hard thrust, Freen pushed Becca over the edge, stroking viciously as Becca's orgasm crashed through.

Catching her breath, Freen eased her fingers out of Becca, watching the other girl sag against her, limp and sated. With a soft, triumphant smile, Freen untied the cardigan from Becca's wrists, freeing them. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to the inside of each wrist, her lips lingering against the warm skin, savoring the taste of victory on her tongue.

With a sudden surge of hunger, Freen sank to her knees before Becca, the tiles cold against her skin. She placed her hands on Becca's hips, her thumbs tracing the sharp jut of her hip bones.  She parted Becca's legs with a firm, yet gentle pressure.

"Freen, we should... we should head back," Becca whispered, her voice trembling as she attempted to regain her composure.

Freen gazed up at her, leaning forward and nuzzling Becca's inner leg. "Let me have my dessert first," she said, her breath hot against Becca's delicate skin.

Before Becca could protest more, Freen's tongue lunged out, tracing the length of Becca's slit and soaking up the evidence of her pleasure. Becca's body shook with the intimate contact, a tiny whine escaping her lips despite her efforts to remain silent.

"Freen, it's still...sensitive," Becca exclaimed. Her hands found their way into Freen's hair, fingers tangled in the silky strands as she struggled to stay upright.

Freen hummed in response, sending shivers across Becca's body. She took her time, her tongue exploring every inch of Becca, the tip flicking against her swollen clit, each touch sending a rush of ecstasy through them both. Becca's arousal was like a drug, sweet and intoxicating, and Freen found herself greedy for more, her mouth moving hungrily against her.

As Freen sucked Becca's clit into her mouth, Becca's other hand flew to her own lips, stifling the moans that threatened to echo through the bathroom. Freen's hands grasped Becca's thighs, keeping her still while she feasted on her, her tongue swirling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The sound of someone hammering on the bathroom door cut through the veil of pleasure that surrounded them. "Becca, honey, are you okay in there?" asked Rawee, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm... I'm having a bathroom emergency, mom!" Becca exclaimed, her voice straining, causing Freen to smirk.

"Alright, sweetie, I'll let Uncle Phat use the upstairs bathroom instead," Rawee said, stepping back from the door.

As the knock on the door and Rawee's voice faded, Freen redoubled her efforts, bringing her tongue to Becca's clit with newfound zeal. Her lips clamped around it, her tongue flicking and lashing in a pattern that was swiftly pushing Becca back to the brink of another orgasm.

Becca's hips bucked against Freen's mouth, her body betraying her yet again as she followed the waves of pleasure that Freen was eliciting from her. Her fingers tightened in Freen's hair, bringing her closer as she rode the other girl's face, her moans muffled by the palm still clamped over her lips.

Freen's own arousal was increasing; the wetness between her legs matched the slick heat she was spreading with her tongue. She could feel Becca's muscles shaking beneath her fingertips, the strain increasing with each passing second.

With a final, drawn-out suck on Becca's clit, Freen threw her over the brink, her body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through her. Freen stayed with her through it all, her tongue gentling as she drew out Becca's pleasure with long, languid licks, drinking in the sweetness of her release.

Freen's skin buzzed with a sense of satisfaction as she watched Becca come undone, a flush of color painting her cheeks and her breaths escaping in ragged gasps. The taste of her lingered on Freen's lips, a pleasant reminder of the power she wielded over Becca, which she was all too happy to use again and again.

She got to her feet, her movements slow, like a predator relishing its victory. With a warm, almost compassionate smile, she reached for a handful of tissue paper and began gently cleaning up Becca, her touch as light as a feather. She kissed Becca's forehead and then her cheek, causing the other girl to blush involuntarily.

Becca attempted to rise up, her hands grasping the sink's edge for support, but her knees buckled beneath her. Freen's reflexes kicked in, and her arm sprang out to catch Becca before she touched the ground.

"Whoa, be careful there," Freen remarked, her voice low as she supported Becca.

Becca gave her a withering glare, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and irritation. "I would've been fine if someone hadn't turned my legs to jelly," she said under her breath, pushing herself away from Freen and putting on her shorts in an effort to reclaim some dignity. 

Freen just smirked, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against the restroom door, completely preventing Becca's escape. "If you can't walk straight, maybe I should just carry you to your bedroom?" she asked.

She debated pushing the point further—letting her carry Becca simply to watch her squirm—but instead she groaned and straightened up, taking a step back to give the other girl some room.

“Come on,” Freen said softly, though there is a slight hint of teasing present in her tone. “Let’s get you back to the table before they send someone to check on you.”

Becca adjusted her shirt, avoiding Freen’s gaze as she smoothed her hair back into place. “I can walk just fine,” she replied tightly, but the slight wobble in her steps as she moved toward the door betrayed her words.

Freen's hand reached out reflexively, grabbing Becca's elbow before she stumbled. "Sure you can," she answered dryly. "But just in case."

Becca huffed but did not pull away as Freen led her out of the bathroom and back to the dining area. The low hum of conversation became more intense as they approached, broken by Uncle Phat's booming laugh.

Rawee was the first to see them, and her sharp eyes immediately focused on Becca. "Becca? What happened? Are you okay?"

Becca flinched slightly but managed a rehearsed smile as she broke free of Freen's delicate grip. "I'm fine, Mom," she quickly said, waving her hand. "I had a minor incident in the bathroom. Nothing serious."

Rawee's eyes narrowed slightly, indicating she wasn't convinced. "A minor incident?"

"I'm okay, really," Becca answered, her voice firmer now, but Freen noticed the little quiver in her hands as she fixed her shirt. "Still good to go for practice tomorrow."

“Are you sure?” Jamie inquired with concern. "You don't have to push yourself if you're not up to it."

Becca shook her head and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll be there," she replied evenly. "It's no big deal."

Rawee looked at the clock on the wall and stood up to grab a few plates. "Okay, I believe we can call it a night. Thank you, everyone, for keeping this dinner lively as usual," she remarked cordially.

Uncle Phat grinned and pushed his chair back. “Lively’s an understatement. I’ll help with the dishes, Rawee,” he offered, earning an approving nod from her.

As the table began to clear and people stood to stretch or gather their things, Freen took a step closer to Becca, her voice low enough to keep the conversation between them. "Don't forget," she muttered. "we still need to finish that chemistry project. When are you available to work on it?"

Becca paused, her gaze briefly touching Freen's before moving away. She straightened her back with a guarded expression. “I know,” she replied curtly. “Tomorrow after band practice works for me.”

Freen raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Sure you’re not too busy for me?” she asked, her words carrying a faint edge of irony, though her lips curved into a casual smile.

Becca’s eyes narrowed for a moment, crossing her arms. "I said tomorrow would work, didn't I?"

Freen tilted her head. "Alright, tomorrow it is," she replied softly, stepping back to give Becca space.

Becca exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though she didn’t look back at Freen as she busied herself helping clear the table.

“I’ve got something I need to say to you, by the way,” Becca muttered, her tone sharp, but not in the usual way—there was something more vulnerable underneath it, something she wasn’t letting slip just yet.

Freen pushed herself off the counter slowly. Her eyes followed Becca’s hands as they moved almost mechanically, but her mind was racing. The chemistry project, maybe? Was that what this was about? They’d already agreed to start working on it tomorrow. And Becca wasn’t one to sound this... uncertain over something so mundane.

Her eyes flicked to Becca’s face for a moment, catching the side of her profile, noting the way her jaw clenched just a little too tight, the slight furrow of her brow. This wasn’t about school. It was something else.

“You have my attention,” Freen said lightly, the words slipping out without a second thought, but beneath the smooth delivery, there was a layer of something she wasn’t quite willing to confront yet.

Freen folded her arms across her chest, watching Becca, a small frown tugging at the corner of her mouth as the silence stretched on.

"Is it about the project?" Freen inquired.

Becca halted, the dishes in her hands resting quietly on the counter. When she finally spoke, her tone was softer and more distant. "Not exactly."

Freen watched Becca, her heart racing in her ears as the silence lengthened. Becca's stance was rigid, her hands still on the plates but not moving—just holding them as if they weighed her down. Her gaze shifted to Freen for a brief moment, and something in her eyes made Freen believe she was seeing a different version of Becca. Vulnerable. Almost too open, too raw.

When Becca spoke, her voice was quieter than usual, almost too careful. “I’ll tell you sometime tomorrow, okay?” she said.

For a moment, Freen’s mind raced. What could Becca possibly be planning to say? The question hovered in the recesses of her mind, growing heavier with each passing second. The more she dwelled on it, the more she realized she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. That this wasn’t just an idle conversation but a pivotal moment that could either draw them closer or force a rift between them.

Freen hesitated but didn’t push.

“Tomorrow, it is.” Freen finally said. She hoped her tone didn’t betray her too much, but the knot in her stomach was growing.

Becca turned back to the dishes, her movements brisk, as if she were trying to fill the space between them with noise.

The sound of Jamie’s footsteps broke the stillness, and Freen glanced up, watching him slip on his jacket by the door.

“See you, Becca. You too, Freen.” Jamie said with a casual wave to both of them, although his eyes lingered on Becca for just a moment longer than usual.

“Yeah, see you,” Becca replied, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though it was brief and barely there.

Freen noticed the way Becca’s fingers twitched around the dish towel, but she didn’t press it. Instead, she let the moment pass, letting the conversation naturally shift to the goodbyes being exchanged between their families.

Her parents and Becca’s exchanged polite pleasantries, but Freen was only half-listening, her attention focused on Becca’s every movement.

“It was good to see you tonight,” Freen said softly, her voice lighter than before. She’d meant it, but part of her was uncertain whether Becca felt the same.

Becca gave a tight nod. "Of course, no problem."

Freen took a step closer, hesitant but unable to shake the notion that she needed to cross the gap between them, to hold onto this fleeting moment of connection. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Becca in a hug, softly but firmly drawing her in. It wasn't an affectionate or desperate hug, but rather a familiar gesture between them both.

Becca remained still, her body rigid at first, but after a while, she eased into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Freen in response. It wasn’t the warm, lingering kind of hug they’d usually share, but it was enough to send a rush of warmth through Freen, even if it felt like there was something unsaid between them. There was still a barrier, just enough to remind Freen that things weren’t the same, that the distance they’d both been trying to navigate hadn’t yet been bridged.

When she finally pulled back, her lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. "Take care of yourself," she murmured, her voice barely audible, uncertain whether the words were meant more for Becca or for her own.

Becca's eyes flicked to hers, steady and soft. "I will," she replied.

"Take care, Freen," Becca's mother said warmly. Freen nodded politely, offering a small smile in return before stepping back.

Outside, the cool night air greeted her as she slid into the passenger seat of the car. The faint scent of her father’s cologne mingled with the leather interior. Her stepmom hummed softly beside him, both of them chatting quietly, but Freen wasn’t really listening. Her mind kept drifting back to Becca.

Her fingers absently brushed against the clutch at her side, and it was then she remembered the necklace she had planned to give her. She hadn’t had the chance tonight, with everyone else hovering around them. The opportunity just hadn’t presented itself, and part of her was almost relieved—it felt too complicated to give it now.

She had to make sure to give it to Becca.

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, she promised herself. For sure.

Chapter Text

Freen leaned against her car, the cool metal pressing against her back, arms crossed tightly as she stared at the entrance to Jamie's garage. She checked her phone again—they’d both agreed to meet at Freen’s house for the chemistry project. It was something they’d decided after some back-and-forth texting late last night, a little less than ideal, but they were getting it done.

She shifted her weight, glancing over at the garage door, impatiently tapping her fingers on the side of her car. Her foot started to tap too, especially now as she saw the group of bandmates filing out.

Becca was the last to step out, pulling her bag over her shoulder. She paused for a moment, exchanging a few words with Jamie— again . 

It wasn’t that big of a deal. They were just friends after all. But why did it always feel like Jamie was hanging around a little too much?

Freen forced her gaze back to Becca as her bandmates crowded around her. 

Becca didn’t lean in for any extra hugs or lingering goodbyes. Instead, she just gave a brief nod, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then dropped her gaze to her shoes, tapping her foot like she couldn’t wait to leave.

Becca’s eyes caught hers then, a slight surprise flickering over her face. Freen almost expected Becca to say something and ask what she was doing here. But Becca didn't—she just nodded toward her, like she wasn’t sure what to make of Freen's presence.

Freen was about to say something, maybe ask if Becca needed a ride or offer to carry her things, but before she could open her mouth, Becca was already heading toward her car.

“Hey.” Becca muttered as she got in.

“Hey.” Freen replied before getting in the car herself. She reached over the seat and handed Becca a paper bag she’d picked up from the drive-thru. “I got you something to eat.”

Becca blinked at the paper bag, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion that weighed her down. “You didn’t have to,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from the long practice.

Freen leaned back in the seat, watching Becca as she carefully opened the bag. Becca’s gaze softened as she glanced at the contents, then turned her eyes to Freen, meeting her gaze for a brief moment before looking away. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Freen smiled faintly, starting the engine. “Figured you might not have had time to eat. Practice seemed long.”

Becca took a fry from the bag and nibbled on it, leaning her head against the window. The warm light of the streetlamps glided over her features. “It was,” she admitted. “Jamie’s been pushing us hard lately. Competition’s coming up.”

Freen glanced at her as they pulled out of the driveway, her grip tightening momentarily on the wheel. “Does he always push you that much?” she asked.

Becca sighed. “It’s not just him. We all agreed to step it up. Besides,” she added, her voice quieter, “it’s good for us. For me.”

As they turned onto the street leading to Freen’s house, Becca spoke up. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick me up.”

Freen glanced at her. “We agreed to work on the project tonight. Thought it’d be easier if you didn’t have to worry about getting here.”

Becca’s lips curved into a faint smile, though she kept her eyes on the fries in her lap. “Still. It’s nice of you.”

They pulled into Freen’s driveway, the car’s headlights cutting through the dark. Freen turned off the engine and turned to Becca. “I just thought you’d need a break. You’ve been running on empty lately.”

“I’m fine, Freen. Come on, we have Chemistry to save."

Freen chuckled quietly as she got out of the car and grabbed her bag. Becca followed, bringing both the food and their project materials.

"Dining table or couch?" Freen inquired, placing her belongings down.

"Dining table," Becca decided, settling into a chair and unpacking her things. She reached for the bag of food and placed it between them. "Do you want some?" She offered.

Freen shakes her head. "I'm fine. It's all yours.”

Becca unwrapped a burger and took a mouthful, her shoulders loosening somewhat. "I'll need the energy."

Freen nodded, opening her notebook and glancing at the pages of chemistry notes that seemed like gibberish.

She dared a glimpse at Becca, who was eating quietly, her attention obviously fixed on the task at hand. She lingered on the way Becca's fingers carelessly tapped against the table, her other hand brushing aside a stray strand of hair. 

Freen dropped her gaze back to her notes, gripping her pen tighter. Was Becca going to bring it up? She had been dreading it all day, her mind running through worst-case scenarios.

“You’re quiet,” Becca said suddenly.

Freen glanced up.

“Just tired,” She lied, forcing a small shrug. “Long day.”

Becca studied her for a moment. “Yeah. Me too.”

Freen smirked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “You know, if you’re tired, I could give you a massage. I've been told that I have 'magical' hands.”

Becca shot her a deadpan look. "Magical hands? Please, Freen. Do NOT try anything funny. We need to finish this tonight, ASAP."

Freen raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Who, me?" She placed a hand dramatically on her chest. "I’m just here, offering my skilled services. Totally professional, nothing more. If you can’t handle the magic, that’s on you."

"Right," Becca rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't know professionalism if it slapped you across the face."

"Oh please, I am the very definition of professionalism," Freen smirked, leaning in just a bit too close. "Dedication, hard work, the whole package. Can’t help it if I make it look easy. Anyway, I'm just saying that a little relaxation wouldn't hurt.”

"What would hurt," Becca tapped her pen against the table for emphasis, "is if we don't finish this tonight. The presentation’s this week, remember?"

Freen exhaled dramatically, opening her notebook. "Okay, fine. No massages. Back to the grind." She started taking notes.

Leaning forward, she placed her chin on her hand and jotted a few formulas in her notepad. Becca, ever focused, skimmed through the textbook while cross-referencing her notes. She paused to examine Freen's notebook. "That's wrong," she said softly, bending across to tap the page. "You didn't balance the equation properly."

Freen turned her head to look at Becca's correction and pretended to sulk. "You're such a perfectionist."

"And you're such a slacker."

"Touché," Freen replied, correcting the equation. She observed Becca's lips twitch into a little smile as she resumed her work. 

For the next stretch of time, Freen immersed herself in the project, double-checking their equations, taking notes, and even providing ideas. Becca, despite her initial displeasure, seems to notice the effort. She even gave Freen an approving nod when they eventually figured out a hard problem.

When they finished the last portion, Becca sat back in her chair, relieved. "Finally," she added, running her hand through her hair. "I thought we'd never get through it." 

Freen extended her arms above her head, her body aching from sitting for too long. "Well, now that we've finished... how about that massage?"

Becca raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking over to Freen with a skeptical look. "You’re still unto that? Or are you attempting to sneak in something else here?"

Freen smirked. "Scout’s honor, it’s just a massage this time. No ulterior motives. Pinky swear."

"Uh-huh. I’ll believe that when pigs fly."

"Oh, come on, Becbec. You’ve been busting your butt all day. Don’t you think you deserve a little TLC from these magical hands?" She wiggled her fingers for emphasis.

Becca’s lips twitched in amusement. “Fine. But, Freen, if you try anything funny, I swear–”

Freen held her hands up again in a mock defense. “I’m harmless. Totally harmless. Just... let me help you unwind a little.”

Becca rolled her eyes but allowed Freen to sit behind her on the chair, her back facing Freen as she settled into place. She gently placed her hands on Becca’s shoulders, massaging lightly, trying to work out some of the strain from the long hours of practice and schoolwork.

For a while, it was quiet, except for the soft sound of Freen’s hands moving across Becca’s shoulders. Freen was careful, not wanting to overstep. Despite the temptation, of course.

Becca shifted under her hands, glancing at her over her shoulder. “Where’d you learn to do that, anyway?”

Freen hummed, pressing her thumbs into the muscle near Becca’s shoulder blades. “I do it for Friend and Nam all the time. After cheer practice, our backs get pretty sore.”

She didn’t think much of it at first, too focused on kneading out the knots along Becca’s shoulder. But then she felt it—the slightest stiffening of Becca’s posture, the way her breath hitched before she quickly turned away again.

Freen blinked.

Huh.

She let her hands drift lower, palms smoothing over Becca’s upper back as she fought the urge to grin. “Why? You jealous?”

Becca scoffed quickly. “Of course not.”

Freen’s lips curled.

Interesting.

“You know,” Freen murmured softly, her hands pausing for a moment, “I could do this for you more often. If you wanted.”

“I don’t need you to... do anything more than this.” Becca seemed to catch herself and quickly added, “Not that I don’t appreciate it. It's just—you know."

Freen nodded and continued the massage.

When Becca let out a small sigh of relief, Freen couldn't help but smile. "There. That’s better, right?"

Becca turned slightly to look over her shoulder. "Yes, actually. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Freen shifted in her seat, the weight of the small velvet box in her pocket suddenly feeling heavier. She’d been holding onto it all day, debating whether to give it to Becca or not. Her fingers brushed hesitantly against it now.

She set the box on the table and slid it toward the other girl with firm hands despite the pounding of her heart. Becca's gaze shifted to the box with curiosity.

“What’s this?”

Freen shrugged, the corner of her mouth rising slightly. "Just something I thought you might like."

Becca glanced at the box for a while before opening it. Her fingers hesitated as she lifted the delicate gold necklace from its cushion. The small rose pendant caught the light, the faintest shimmer of a tiny chime bell audible as it swayed.

Becca traced the rose with her thumb, her brows knitting slightly, her lips parting as if to say something but stopping short.

Freen leaned back slightly, resting her elbows on the table as if to make herself ‘look’ calm, though her pulse was anything but. “Look, I know I’ve been... a little off lately. ” she began. "I apologize if I did or said anything that irritated you. Figuring this stuff out is not my strongest point." She paused and took a deep breath. "But just for the record... I care about you. Much much more than I probably show sometimes."

Becca's gaze lingered on the necklace, her fingertips resting over the tiny rose pendant.

"It's beautiful," she replied quietly.

Freen attempted a small smile. "I hoped you'd think so."

Becca's hand moved toward the clasp, but she paused. Her fingertips touched the little rose, following its delicate details with gentleness. Then, just as swiftly, she withdrew her hand, her expression unreadable. She placed it carefully on the table between them, the tiny bell making the tiniest sound as it settled. Her attention stayed on it for a time before she gently folded her hands in front of her.

Freen's gaze darted between Becca and the necklace. She felt an ache she didn't quite comprehend, but it anchored her in place.

"Freen..."

Freen sat up taller, concealing her discomfort with a little smile. "Yeah?"

Becca's fingers trembled against one another as she gazed down at the table, letting out a slight breath before speaking again. "We need to talk."

She nodded, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay…?”

Becca hesitated, her hands still clasped in front of her as if holding herself together. She didn’t look up right away. “Are you... happy? With this? The way things are?”

Freen blinked, trying to make sense of the words. Her first instinct was to deflect, to throw out some half-serious comment about how things were “great” or “perfect,” but the way Becca’s fingers tightened against each other stopped her.

“Happy?” Freen echoed, buying herself a second to think. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve got a pretty good thing going, don’t we?”

Becca finally looked up, her eyes searching Freen’s face, and Freen felt exposed in a way she wasn’t used to. “That’s not an answer. I mean really happy, Freen.”

Freen shifted in her seat, tapping her nails lightly against her arm as if the rhythm might ground her. Her throat felt dry as she leaned forward with her elbows on the table, staring at the surface. "I don't know. I guess... I haven't really thought about it like that before."

Becca's stare stayed on her for a while longer, as if she were considering her words carefully. The silence stretched between them, and Freen couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in Becca’s hands before she lowered her gaze.

“If someone... how would you react if someone said they had feelings for you?” Becca’s voice was quiet, as though she were testing the waters.

“Depends. Are they cute? Do I already like them back?” Freen shrugged nonchalantly. “Look, if they’re not worth my time, then that’s an easy pass. No need to complicate things. I’ve got enough on my plate without adding ‘drama’ to the mix.”

Becca’s lips quirked up briefly, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And if someone said they loved you?”

Freen stiffened. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table as if grounding herself. “Wow, way to jump straight to the deep end.” she joked.

She let out a breath, eyes skimming over Becca for a moment. "Look, people throw that word around all the time. For me, it's more of a... transaction. And to be honest, it is, in one form or another. Naive people think it’s cute, until they realize they only want ‘something’ from the other person. But most of the time, I don’t really want to deal with all that emotional baggage. Not that I can't... manage."

Freen didn’t need to look at Becca to know that her words weren’t exactly hitting the right note.

Her lips twisted into a smile that didn’t quite match her eyes. "So, if someone says they love me... well, it wouldn't be the first time. And honestly, I’d probably just nod along, throw in a compliment, like, 'You know, you're really sweet for saying that,' and keep it moving. That's usually how it goes. It's just easier for me that way."

Becca’s fingers twitched against the table. “What if it’s not just a ‘transaction’ for them? What if they didn’t expect anything back?”

“I guess I’d tell them they’re braver than I am. Love’s messy, complicated. A lot of feelings to unpack. Not exactly my area of expertise.” She waved a hand as if brushing off the thought before smirking. “But hey, it’s your hypothetical. What’s next? Do they ride off into the sunset, or is there a plot twist?”

Becca’s fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the table, her gaze finally lifting to meet Freen’s eyes as if she’d come to a decision. "I suppose… I suppose I'm the one who’s braver then."

Freen's smirk faltered, her heart pounding in her chest. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

“I love you, Freen.”

Freen froze, her breath seizing in her throat, and the world around them seemed to pause. She should offer something humorous to lighten the mood. But her thoughts were too loud and jumbled to make something coherent.

She wanted to grab onto those words, hold them close, and let them warm the spaces in her that she tried to ignore. But she also wanted to run, pretend she hadn't heard, and push everything aside before it became something she couldn't control.

Instead, she gave a low, nervous laugh. She cast a fleeting glance away before returning to Becca’s. "Wow, getting straight to the big stuff, huh?"

She searched Becca’s eyes, desperate to find some hint of a joke. Anything to give her an out. But Becca didn’t look away.

No trace of sarcasm, no glimmer of playfulness.

Shit.

For a long moment, Freen just stared back, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t help the tremble that ran through her, though she masked it quickly with a deep breath.

She’d been with Billy, sure, but that was different. Billy said those words to her all the time, though she mostly just brushed them off as what couples would normally do. But this? This felt like a bomb had just dropped in her lap, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. 

"Alriiight, then." Freen's fingers lightly beat on the table's edge as if to keep them occupied. "Definitely not where I thought this conversation was heading when you said we needed to talk."

She gestured vaguely, her hand hovering midair as she searched for the right words. "So... when did this start? You and... this?"

Becca hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Freen before dropping to her lap. “At first, I thought it was just... physical attraction. A crush." She let out a small, humorless laugh, her fingers twisting together. "Like, the way you walk into a room and everyone just—looks. People can’t help themselves. They trip over their own feet just to get within five feet of you. You’re—you. It felt like it couldn’t be anything deeper. Just surface-level stuff.”

Freen didn't move, but she felt an odd combination of pride and unease in her stomach. She'd heard variations of this before: people confessing to her as if she were a saint to be revered.

“And then we... started messing around.” Becca’s voice cracked faintly, but she steadied herself. “And for a while, I thought that was enough. That just having you in that way—” She stopped herself, exhaling shakily as if she couldn’t finish the thought.

“But it wasn’t,” Becca continued. She met Freen’s eyes then, her gaze raw and unguarded. “It wasn’t enough. I wanted more, Freen. I want more, and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t.”

Freen’s breath caught in her throat, her hands clenching tightly against the edge of the table.

“I want to be able to do all the things people who love each other do. I want to bring you flowers, not just because it’s some sappy gesture, but because I saw them and thought of you. I want to hold your hand when we’re out, no matter who’s looking.”

“I want to go places with you just because it makes you happy,” Becca said, her fingers trembling as she clasped them tightly together. “Like, maybe we’d go to that stupid shopping strip you love so much, and I’d buy one of those little ceramic dogs you’re obsessed with—maybe the one holding an umbrella—just because you said it would look cute on my windowsill.”

A weak laugh escaped Becca, though her voice cracked with the emotion she couldn’t suppress. “And I want to kiss you—God, I want to kiss you—not because we’re trying to forget something or because it’s convenient, but because it’s you, Freen. Just you.”

Freen wanted to say something—anything—but the words felt stuck in her throat.

"And when you touch me," Becca added, her voice barely above a whisper now, "I don’t want it to feel like it’s just about chasing a high, or filling a void, or keeping me close without having to name what we are. I don’t want to be something convenient—someone you turn to just because I’m here. I want it to be because you love me too. Because it means something."

She swallowed hard, her eyes searching Freen’s face as if looking for an answer she wasn’t sure she’d find. “And I want to call you mine,” she added. “I want you to be with me, not anyone else’s. I don’t want to feel like I’m just another stop along the way for you, Freen. I want you to belong to me the way I...” Her voice broke entirely, and she quickly looked away, blinking back tears.

“But I know that’s not what this is for you. And maybe it never will be. That’s why I... That’s why I needed to say it. Because I can’t keep wanting something that’s never going to happen.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Freen swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don’t want to live with regrets. I don’t want to wake up one day wishing I’d been brave enough to say how I feel. Wishing I’d told you."

"Is that... all?" Freen asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

“And I want to move on.”

“What…?” 

The word barely left Freen’s lips as if she had misheard. The notion of Becca walking away, closing this door between them, shot a flood of panic through her. 

“I can’t keep holding onto something that isn’t real. I can’t keep hoping for more when I know it’s not what you want.” Becca presses her lips in a thin line.

Freen’s fingers twitched at her sides.

“I just... I needed you to know. That’s all. I didn't tell you this to make things more difficult." Becca glanced up, giving a small sad smile. "I told you because I care for you. And because I care about myself enough to let go.”

A slow, creeping unease curled around Freen’s chest. The words were finally settling now, sinking in one by one.

‘Let go?’

Her breath caught.

Freen’s hands clenched into fists on her lap. "You think I don't care about you?"

“That’s not it,” Becca said quickly. “I know you do. But not in the way I want you to. And that’s okay, Freen. I don’t blame you for it. I just—” She exhaled shakily. “I need to stop hurting myself by holding on to something that isn’t fair to either of us.”

Freen swallowed hard. 

“I don’t want to let you go.”

Becca’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn’t say anything, waiting.

Freen’s hands tightened into fists as she tried to make sense of what she’s feeling. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to be what you want—what you deserve—but I don’t want to lose you.”

Becca’s gaze never wavered as if she were bracing for something. It felt like the moment was hanging in the balance, and Freen didn’t know whether to take a step forward or stay where she was as if frozen in the middle.

“Is this... about the sex, Freen?”

It’s as if the question sliced through the haze of panic and confusion Freen’s been drowning in. Her mind scrambled for a response that wouldn’t sound like a lie. The answer wasn’t as simple as Becca might think. But how could she explain that when she barely understood it herself?

“No,” Freen said quickly, her words more forceful than she meant. She took a breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions that came with the question, trying to find her footing. “It’s not just that.” Her voice softened as she looked at Becca, but the words still felt like they were being ripped from her chest. “I don’t want to lose you... not because of that. But because... I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt her throat tighten again, but she pressed on, her gaze locking with Becca’s. “I can’t pretend that it’s just the physical part that matters, Becca. I never thought it was. But I didn’t know how to... I didn’t know how to say that without messing everything up.”

Freen’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, but she kept them clenched in her lap. "I don't know how to be what you want, but I don't want to just... let this go. I don't want it to end because of some stupid thing that I can't even figure out."

Freen’s chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths, her pulse pounding in her ears as her gaze stayed locked on Becca. Her fists clenched against her thighs, the tension in her knuckles matching the ache in her chest. But Becca didn’t move.

Instead, she tilted her head, her brows knitting together in a look that was equal parts tender and unyielding. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but then she closed them again before letting out a sigh.

When she looked back up, her eyes were calm but tinged with sadness, as if she had made up her mind. “Freen... I think you need time to figure out what this really is. Right now, it feels like you’re still trying to understand your own feelings, and that’s not something I can help you with.”

Freen shook her head instinctively. “No, I don’t need time. I know how I feel—”

“Do you?” Becca interrupted gently. “Because it doesn’t seem like you do. You said it yourself—you don’t even know how to explain it.” She paused, exhaling softly as her gaze dropped to her hands. “And that’s okay. Feelings aren’t always clear right away. But… I think we should take some space. Just until you figure it out.”

Freen’s heart skipped, and the room seemed to shrink around her. “Space?”

Becca nodded slowly. "Yeah. Space. I believe it's the best thing for both of us right now." Her lips drew together in a thin line. "Maybe someday, when this doesn't seem so... complex, we can talk about it again. Maybe it's just a phase. We might even look back and laugh at how intense all of this was.”

She hesitated for a moment, then added softly, almost to herself, “Maybe you’ll even realize it’s just infatuation.”

Freen’s hands curled into fists at her sides, the nails digging into her palms. She looked away, blinking rapidly, but it did nothing to dull the sharp sting that came with imagining Becca just brushing this off one day. “You’re acting like this doesn’t matter,” she whispered.

“No, Freen,” Becca said firmly. “I’m acting like this does matter. A lot. That’s why I want to do this right. You’re... you’re my friend first. You’ve always been my closest friend. And I don’t want to ruin that by rushing into something that you’re not ready for.”

Her gaze dropped to the necklace in her hands, her fingers curling around it for a brief moment before she pushed it back towards Freen.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The sight of the small charm lying between them felt like a final blow, like a door creaking shut. Freen’s hand hovered over the necklace, but she didn’t take it back. Not yet.

Becca stepped back, her determination visible in the way she squared her shoulders. Freen's heart thumped painfully. Her hand flew out before she could stop herself, grabbing Becca's wrist. "Wait."

Becca turned, her brow furrowed in a mix between uncertainty and hesitation.

"Can we– Can you stay for tonight? Just one last time. Before everything changes."

“Freen...”

"I know it won't fix anything," Freen interjected. "And I know it's selfish. But if you truly want space, if this is it for us, just... allow me to be with you tonight. Just tonight."

Becca turned away, pressing her lips together, her brow furrowing as she wrestled with her thoughts.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Becca said quietly.

"Probably not," Freen admitted, the words slipping out more from desperation than reason. "But I need this. I need you. Just once... please."

For a moment, their eyes locked—rejection flickered in Becca’s gaze. But then her shoulders slumped, her resolve crumbling as she let out a soft sigh and gave a small, reluctant nod.

Freen went closer without saying anything, moving her hand down from Becca's wrist to entangle their fingers.

Her heart raced as she led Becca to the bedroom, their hands still knotted together. She could feel a tremble in Becca's fingertips. This could very well be the last time they’ll be together, and Freen wanted to remember every waking moment of it.

Freen's breath caught as she watched Becca, the dim light from the lamp throwing a gentle halo around her face.

Like an angel.

Every detail stood out: the subtle arch of her brows, the curve of her cheekbones that always made her look so delicate, the way her lips parted ever so slightly as if waiting for something she wasn’t sure how to ask for. And that dimpled smile—one Freen had come to adore more than she’d ever admit.

Freen’s hand rose instinctively, cupping Becca’s face, her thumb tracing the curve of her cheek with a tenderness that took her by surprise. She leaned in, her lips just shy of brushing Becca’s, when she felt the other girl’s hand gently but firmly press against her chest, halting her. The touch wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to make Freen pause.

"Wait," Becca whispered. "Let me... let me lead this time."

Without saying anything further, Becca leaned in, her lips meeting Freen's with an aching tenderness that almost caused Freen's knees to buckle. The kiss was unhurried. Becca's lips slid against Freen's with caution, as if she were memorizing every nuance and sensation for the final time with her lips.

Freen's breath caught as Becca deepened the kiss, her hands trembled as she grabbed the hem of her own shirt, resisting the overwhelming want to pull Becca closer.

She felt Becca's hands creep up her torso, slipping under the fabric of her shirt. Becca's hands caressed her skin softly, sending shivers down her spine.

Becca drew away from the kiss, her gaze fixed on Freen's as she pushed the shirt up and over her head. The cool air in the room met Freen's flushed skin, causing goosebumps to appear in the aftermath of Becca's touch. Becca carefully, almost reverently, unhooked Freen's bra, letting it fall away and reveal the delicate swell of her breasts.

Freen watched Becca intently, noting the way her gaze darkened with want. It left Freen feeling exposed, stripped bare to the girl in front of her. A flicker of vulnerability surfaced, but Freen didn’t waver. Instead, she lifted her chin just enough—an invitation that Becca didn’t think twice about accepting.

Becca leaned in for a soft kiss on Freen's throat, then another just below her collarbone. Freen's breathing quickened as Becca's lips slid lower, lingering at the delicate place where her neck and shoulder met. Her hands found support on the bedsheets, fingers curling around them as she struggled to remain grounded.

The gentle scrape of teeth against her skin made Freen gasp, her body arching up into Becca's touch. She could feel her control slipping, but Becca held her there, on the edge, with nothing more than her lips and tongue. The slow and gradual foreplay was frustrating but also exhilarating. Becca was relishing every exposed skin, soaking up every sensation until Freen was a trembling mess under her.

When Becca's mouth finally closed around her nipple, Freen couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips. The sound seemed to spur Becca on, her tongue circling the sensitive peak before she sucked it deeply into her mouth. Freen's back arched off the bed, her hands moving to tangle in Becca's hair, holding her close as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Becca's hands were not idle either. They moved around Freen's body, examining every curve. Her fingertips sent trails of fire in their wake, firing nerves that Freen had no idea existed. And when Becca's hand crept between her legs, Freen realized she was lost.

Becca's hand moved with an infuriating slowness, her fingers tracing maddening patterns over the fabric of Freen's underwear. Freen could feel the heat of her palm pressing against her, the friction building until she was sure she'd go mad from it. Her body was tightly strung, every muscle straining for the pleasure that Becca was cruelly withholding.

"Do you feel good?" Becca's voice was soothing, in stark contrast to the storm roaring inside Freen.

Freen's reply was a strangled moan, her brows knitting together as she struggled to form words. "Yes, but—"

"Shh," Becca said, kissing Freen on the lips. "Tell me what it feels like. Describe it to me."

Freen's mind raced, unable to express the sensations pouring through her. "It's... it's like I'm on fire," she exclaimed, her hips bucking uncontrollably as Becca's fingers began their agonizing ministrations. "Every touch feels too much, but not enough. I need—"

Becca interrupted her with another kiss, deeper this time, as her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of Freen's underwear. Freen's breath caught as she felt Becca's fingertips scrape her bare skin.

"Is this what you need?" Becca whispered against Freen's lips, her fingers gliding effortlessly through the wetness that had accumulated from Freen’s core.

Freen could only nod, her hands firmly grasping the covers while Becca explored her. She could feel Becca's touch becoming more assertive, her fingers circling and teasing the bundle of nerves at the heart of Freen's pleasure.

However, as Freen felt the familiar coiling of tension deep within her belly, Becca paused her motions again. Freen let out an angry growl, her eyes widening as she looked at the girl who was driving her insane.

Becca smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Freen's lips. "Patience," she murmured, her fingers barely grazing Freen, enough to keep her on the edge without pushing her over.

"Becca, please," Freen pleaded, her voice hardly recognizable to her own ears. She wanted more—more pressure, more speed—but Becca was determined to take her time.

And then it happened.

Becca's finger glided into her, filling her with a single, deliberate stroke. The sensation was a combination of pain and pleasure, blurring the lines between reality that made Freen feel like she was floating. Becca's finger slid agonizingly slow, probing the depths of Freen's desire with a mastery that belied her age.

Freen's breaths became frantic gasps as Becca added another finger, stretching her and filling her even further. The continuous thrusting of Becca's hand unleashed a surge of ecstasy that threatened to carry Freen away altogether. She could feel the walls of her core tightening around Becca's fingers, as if terrified to let go.

Becca's lips trailed a path of fire down Freen's throat, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. With a suddenness that made Freen's back arch off the bed, Becca bit down, the sharp sting of pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure of her thrusts.

The dual sensations were too much for Freen to bear. Her body tightened, every muscle coiling tight as she sensed the approaching wave of her climax. She could hear herself moaning, felt the noises being ripped from her throat as Becca pushed her higher and higher.

"Come for me, Freen," Becca said, her voice a blend of command and something akin to yearning.

The world shattered around her as she came, her vision whiting out as her body convulsed with the force of her release. She could feel Becca's fingers still moving inside her, drawing out her orgasm until she was sure she would pass out from the intensity of it.

As the aftershocks from her climax passed through her, Freen felt Becca rest against her. She could feel her heart thumping in tune with her own.

For a long time, they lay silently, their bodies still tightly linked. Freen could feel Becca's head lying on her chest, as well as the soft pressure of her lips kissing her skin. 

Freen's breathing gradually slowed, but her heart continued to pound in a violent rhythm in her chest. Becca’s fingers lazily traced patterns along Freen’s shoulder, as if she wasn’t quite ready to let go of the moment.

Her fingertips skimmed up Becca’s spine, feeling the way her skin shivered beneath her touch. Encouraged, Freen let her palm settle against the small of Becca’s back, pressing her closer. “Can I?” she murmured.

Becca didn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifted slightly, tilting her head to look at Freen with something unreadable in her eyes. Then, as if deciding something, she leaned in, brushing her lips against Freen’s jaw before whispering, “Go ahead.”

Freen shifted, rolling Becca onto her back. She propped herself up on her elbow, her free hand tracing the contours of Becca's body through the fabric of her shirt.

"My turn," Freen whispered.

Freen's hands crept to the hem of Becca's shirt, her fingers brushing against the delicate skin beneath. She slowly raised the fabric, revealing the smooth expanse of Becca's stomach, the gentle swell of her breasts, the delicate lace of her bra.

Freen paused, taking in the image of Becca half-undressed in front of her. She wanted to savor this moment, to commit every detail to memory.

"Freen?" Becca's voice sounded unsure, and Freen realized she had stopped moving.

"The lights," Freen remarked, her gaze fixed on Becca's half-naked body. "I know it’s a little late to ask, but do you want to turn them off?"

Becca hesitated, her fingers twisting the bedsheet beneath her. "Do you... do you want to?"

Freen shook her head, a small, reassuring smile curving her lips. "I want to see you. All of you."

Becca's smile returned, a flood of relief washing over her features. "Okay," she murmured.

Freen resumed her task, completely peeling the shirt off Becca and discarding it on the floor. Her fingers moved to the clasp of Becca's bra to undo it, leaving Becca completely exposed from the waist up.

Freen's gaze lingered on Becca's chest, her breath hitching at the sight of her perky breasts. She leaned down and gently kissed the valley between them before slipping one of Becca's nipples into her lips.

Becca gasped, her back arching off the bed as Freen circled her tongue over the peak. Freen's hand moved to Becca's other breast, her fingers rolling and pinching the nipple in time with the motions of her tongue.

As Freen lavished attention on Becca's breasts, her other hand began to roam, slipping beneath the waistband of Becca's jeans. Her fingers glided down the border of Becca's panties, teasing and tormenting her before disappearing beneath the fabric.

Becca's hips bucked as Freen's fingertips touched her moist folds. Freen caressed her carefully, her fingers slipping smoothly through the moisture that greeted them. She approached Becca's body with reverence, her fingers following every curve and dip, knowing the contours of her most intimate areas.

Freen's tongue moved lower, trailing kisses down Becca's stomach while she slid her fingers under the waistband of Becca's jeans, pushing them down along with her underwear to show the bare, shining flesh underneath.

With Becca entirely naked in front of her, Freen sat between her legs, her attention fixed on the scene spread out before her. Becca’s smooth contours, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

"You are so beautiful," Freen said softly, her voice full of awe and longing, tracing Becca’s thigh with her fingertips.

Becca responded with a whimper, her body writhing under Freen's touch. Freen smiled, her heart surging with love and lust as she prepared to bring Becca to the pinnacle of pleasure.

Freen lowered her head, her tongue following the trail that her fingers had just traveled. Becca's taste was irresistible, a combination of sweetness and arousal that reignited Freen's need.

Becca's cries got louder as Freen's tongue went deeper, her hands finding traction in Freen's hair as she clung on desperately. Freen moved slowly and methodically, her tongue caressing and teasing the bundle of nerves between Becca's thighs.

Freen's heart pounded with desire, mirroring Becca's rapid gasps. She wanted to see her face, to see the unraveling of her inhibitions in those dark, brown eyes.

"Look at me," Freen said in a murmur against the dampness of Becca's inner thigh, nearly lost in the other girl's ragged breathing. 

Becca’s fingers curled in the covers, a flush creeping up her neck, turning her cheeks a delicate shade of pink. 

Freen paused, her tongue resting lightly against Becca's clit, feeling the pulse of her arousal against the flat of her tongue. "Please," she breathed, the word sounding like a plea that seemed to break through Becca's shyness.

Becca lifted her head with a quiet moan, her gaze locking onto Freen’s with a depth that sent a shiver through her. There was something raw in her eyes—unguarded, open in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. She was letting her in, offering a part of herself that few ever got to see.

Freen's own gaze never wavered as she resumed her attentions, her tongue tracing the contours of Becca's most sensitive place. She slid her hands beneath Becca's hips, pulling her closer, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.

As Freen's mouth worked its magic, their fingers interlocked, Becca's hands seeking the connection with the same fervor that Freen did. The slide of their skin against each other, the way their fingers clasped together, it was as if they were trying to combine their very beings with that simple touch.

Freen's lips closed around the swollen nub of Becca's clit, sucking gently as her tongue flicked and teased. She savored the taste of her, the scent of her arousal filling Freen's senses, a heady perfume that made her own desire coil tightly within her.

Becca's reaction was wild and untamed, her body writhing under Freen's touch, her moans growing louder with each passing second as she arched from the bed.

Becca's fingers clamped around Freen's, her body strained as if bracing for the upcoming explosion. And when it arrived, it was stunningly beautiful. Becca's cry of release resonated across the room, her body quivering beneath Freen, who continued to lap at her gently, extending her climax until the final waves of ecstasy had passed. 

Freen released her grip on Becca's hands, her touch softening as she kissed her way back up Becca's body. She settled herself beside Becca, their bodies slick with sweat and flushed with the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Becca turned to her, reaching out to cup Freen's face. "That was—" she began, her voice husky, but Freen silenced her with a kiss.

"Don't," Freen whispered against her lips. "You don't have to say anything.”

Freen's lips hovered over Becca's, her breath mingling with hers in the quiet, fragile space between them. The dim light cast subtle shadows across Becca's face, making her cheeks blush and her lips slightly swollen. Freen couldn't take her gaze away from her, imprinting every detail to memory—the curve of her dimple, the slight smudge of color that remained on her lips, the way her eyelids fluttered as if she was holding something back.

Freen swallowed hard, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "Can I—" Her voice broke, and she tried again, softer this time, as if the wrong tone might shatter what little was left between them. "Can I hold you? Just like this. For the rest of tonight…?"

For a moment, Becca did not respond; instead, she watched Freen as if she were trying to memorize her as well, her lips opening slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words; then, slowly, she nodded.

Freen felt relief pour over her, and her arms moved reflexively, wrapping around Becca's waist and pulling her close. Becca did not resist but instead fell into Freen's embrace, her head resting against Freen's chest.

Freen tightened her hold, her fingers grazing the curve of Becca’s back, each touch as careful and reverent as if she were holding something fragile. She buried her face in Becca’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo, a mix of vanilla, and something else she couldn’t place but had always associated with Becca.

They lay there in the quiet as Freen’s mind swirled with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t—how much she wanted to keep this moment, to freeze it and never let it go. She closed her eyes, her lips brushing against Becca’s temple in a ghost of a kiss.

Becca shifted slightly, her fingertips ghosting lazy patterns along Freen’s arm. “Freen…” she whispered, so softly it barely reached the space between them.

Freen’s throat tightened. She didn’t trust her voice, afraid that saying anything might shatter whatever fragile thing was keeping them together. Instead, she pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Becca’s head, her arms instinctively tightening— I’m here. I’m not letting go.

They didn’t speak after that; they didn’t need to. Freen simply held on, even as exhaustion pressed down on her, her eyelids growing heavy against the warmth of Becca in her arms.

xXXXx

The next morning…

Morning arrived too quickly.

Freen awoke before the sun had fully risen, the beautiful golden warmth from her drapes throwing warm streaks across the bed.

Becca lay cuddled against her, breathing softly; her features softened with slumber. Freen could barely move for fear of breaking the moment. She simply watched. The way Becca’s lashes fluttered slightly, as if she were dreaming. The faint crease between her brows that always disappeared when she was at ease. The warmth of her bare skin pressed against Freen’s own.

Becca stirred, her body tensing slightly before she blinked awake. For a brief moment, Becca's drowsy gaze met Freen's, something unreadable flashing in her eyes before reality came in.

"Freen," she mumbled, her voice heavy from sleep. "We should go. We still have school."

Freen did not respond. She felt Becca move, attempting to create distance between them as she turned onto her side, her back facing her. 

No.

Before she could slip away completely, Freen reached out, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her back into her embrace. She pressed her face into the curve of Becca’s neck, inhaling deeply, unwilling to let go just yet.

“Just a little longer.” she murmured against her skin.

Becca sighed, but it wasn’t an exasperated one. It was softer, like she understood.

And then—

The door burst open.

“Freen! Why the hell aren’t you—”

A scream.

Nam’s.

Becca bolted upright, clutching the blanket to her chest. Freen groaned, flopping onto her back as Nam’s shriek echoed through the room.

“WHAT THE—” Nam slapped a hand over her own eyes. “OH MY GOD—YOU—WHAT—” She turned away, nearly tripping over herself in the process. “I DID NOT SIGN UP TO SEE THIS FIRST THING IN THE MORNING.”

Freen sighed. “Then maybe knock next time?”

“WHY WOULD I KNOCK? YOU DIDN’T SAY YOU’D HAVE COMPANY!”

Becca groaned, dragging the blanket over her head. “I want to die.”

Nam, still refusing to look, pointed wildly toward the door. “You know what? I’m leaving. You two can deal with this. I need therapy.”

And just like that, she slammed the door shut behind her, leaving the room in silence once more.

Freen exhaled and turned to Becca.

“Well,” she said. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Chapter Text

The bass thumped in her chest, rattling her ribcage like a war drum. Freen downed another shot, the burn a welcome distraction from the gnawing restlessness in her gut. The house—some senior’s sprawling mansion—was packed wall-to-wall with sweaty bodies, laughter, and the kind of recklessness only a Friday night could justify.

She wasn’t here for fun. Not really.

A week. A whole damn week of space. It wasn’t that Becca was cold or mean. She wasn’t ignoring Freen. She was just... polite. Their chemistry project had gone smoothly. And by smoothly, she meant no lingering glances. No playful banter. Just business. They still got a high grade. The work had actually been good. Surprisingly, because she had actually worked on it.

A manic whoop from the living room drew her attention, and she turned just in time to see some guy—probably a junior—attempt a keg stand, only to crash down spectacularly onto the hardwood floor. Laughter erupted around him, but Freen barely smirked. Amateurs. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her gaze sweeping over the chaos with detached amusement. This kind of scene was predictable, almost boring. If anything, it only made her feel more out of place tonight.

She wove through the crowd, past red solo cups and bodies pressed too close together, her mind a jumbled mess. Maybe if she got wasted enough, she’d stop thinking. Maybe if she let someone else press against her, she’d forget about the way Becca had looked at her that morning—sleep-mussed, wide-eyed, vulnerable—before Nam had walked in and ruined everything.

Freen cursed under her breath, raking a hand through her hair.

Nam.

She had forgotten about the damn house key.

Her mistake. 

She’d given Nam that key ages ago—after getting too drunk at one of their after-school parties, when Nam had insisted she wasn’t letting her sleep outside the house like a dumbass. Freen had meant to get it back. Obviously, she never did.

She leaned against the cool marble of the kitchen island, gripping the edge. Another mental note: retrieve the key.

“Why the hell aren’t you getting laid yet?”

Freen barely flinched as Frend slumped beside her, swirling the last dregs of beer in her cup.

She exhaled sharply. “Just haven’t found anyone worth my time.”

Frend scoffed. “Bullshit. You usually don’t care.”

And that was the problem. She never cared. The cycle was already so predictable. She’d spot someone—probably some guy leaning casually against the bar or throwing a cocky grin her way from across the room. The rest played out like a script she knew by heart. A low voice in her ear, murmuring something she’d nod along. Fingers brushing her arm, sliding lower. She’d let them talk, let them touch, because their words didn’t matter, and neither did they. They were just faces she’d forget before the night was even over. She never stayed long enough for it to mean anything. She let them take what they wanted, knowing she’d already taken what she needed.

But it wasn’t about connection. It never was. It was about the way their attention drowned out the parts of herself she didn’t want to deal with. The moments she didn’t want to feel. And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Like tonight. It felt like a stretch.

Still, she could try. She would try.

Freen let her gaze flick across the room, scanning faces through the dim, shifting lights. Too many familiar ones—people who knew her, or at least thought they did. She needed someone else. A stranger who wouldn’t expect anything beyond tonight.

Her fingers curled around her empty cup, grip tightening. Just pick someone.

A flash of movement caught her eye. Some guy—tall, built, smirking.

Not him.

She pivoted, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on someone else—a guy slouched against the wall near the drinks table. His hair was tousled, not in the deliberate way most tried to pull off, but genuinely messy, like he hadn’t bothered to check a mirror before showing up. His shirt hung loose, a little wrinkled, and he was holding a red cup in one hand, swirling the contents idly as if he wasn’t expecting much from the night.

He wasn’t the type to command attention, not like the loud ones trying to impress their friends by climbing on furniture or shouting over the music. Better. Easier.

Just do it.

She drew in a breath, steadying herself, then straightened. Her shoulders rolled back, her posture sharp as she stepped away from the counter. Her gaze stayed sharp and unwavering, the faintest flicker of a smirk ghosting her lips.

The guy noticed her before she even reached him. His head tilted, interest flickering behind tired eyes. Perfect.

She leaned in, close enough that she knew he’d catch the scent of her perfume, the heat of her skin. “Got an extra drink?”

He smirked, lifting his cup slightly. “That depends. You gonna make it worth my while?”

A predictable answer.

Freen smirked anyway, tilting her head like she was considering it. She let her fingers ghost along the rim of his cup, watching the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

He was waiting.

So she leaned in, letting the bass-heavy music drown out everything else, letting the alcohol haze blur the edges of her thoughts. The guy’s breath was warm, tinged with beer and something too sweet. His hand found her waist, pulling her in.

And then she let it happen.

His lips brushed against hers.

Then—

Too warm.

Not the way she wanted it to be.

The weight of his hand on her waist was solid, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to ground her. His breath was hot against her neck, and his lips brushing her skin should’ve made her feel something—anything. The sharp, musky scent of his cologne mixed with the bitter tang of beer on his breath.

But as his hand slid lower, the difference was jarring. His touch was clumsy, grasping without finesse, rough where it should’ve been soft. The heat of his breath against her neck felt rushed and shallow, leaving nothing but a faint stickiness on her skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried—really tried—to let herself sink into the moment, to make it enough. But the contrast crept in, oh so sharp and vivid in her mind.

She remembered a touch that wasn’t just firm but purposeful. A hand that didn’t grasp but settled, warm and steady. Soft lips that didn’t merely skim but lingered, leaving a trail of heat that didn’t fade as quickly as it came.

Becca.

Freen stiffened.

The guy moved to close the gap, but her stomach lurched. Wrong. All of it.

The music pulsed, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the pounding in her chest.

She pulled away.

“Shit,” the guy muttered, blinking at her, confused. “You good?”

Freen stepped back, shaking her head, though she wasn’t sure if it was at him or at herself.

No. She wasn’t.

Freen didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned on her heel and slipped back into the crowd, leaving him standing there with his half-drunk cup. The air inside the house felt thick, suffocating, pressing against her skin like a second layer she couldn’t peel off.

Fuck this.

She needed to drown this out–bottle it up—throw it away–whatever—somehow, someway.

Alcohol was the obvious choice. The easy choice. The whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter had been barely touched, and she could down enough shots to send herself into that blissful, thoughtless haze. Or maybe she could bum a cigarette off one of the football guys outside—she hated the taste, but the burn in her throat would at least feel like something.

She could find the stash some seniors always had tucked away in their cars—something stronger.

Or—

She could leave. Just leave. Go home, crash into bed, sleep until the morning sun burned her through the blinds. But she knew. Knew that she’d spiral as soon as she’s alone. She’d think about why her stomach had twisted when that boy touched her. Why her mind kept conjuring up her face, her warmth.

Freen ran a hand down her face, exhaling sharply.

A whiskey, then. Exactly what she needed.

Decision made, she pushed forward, weaving through the crowd toward the kitchen.

But before she could get there, someone grabbed her wrist.

“Are you serious right now?”

Freen barely had time to register the voice before she turned and locked eyes with Nam.

Freen tensed, instinctively pulling back, but Nam’s grip was firm.

Nam’s eyes flicked to the empty cup in Freen’s hand, then to the whiskey bottle she’d been gunning for. Her brows furrowed. “You’re really going for that tonight?”

Freen forced a smirk. “What? You want some?”

Nam didn’t let go, clearly not buying the act. “You enjoy yourself plenty, but this?" She gave the drink a pointed look. “This is extra, even for you.”

Freen rolled her shoulders. “Maybe I just wanna get wasted in peace.”

Nam studied her for a beat, her grip loosening but not leaving entirely. She clicked her tongue. “This isn’t about Becca, is it?”

Freen’s jaw tightened. “Becca’s not—”

“I know,” Nam cut in, quick, like she’d expected the deflection. “That’s why I didn’t wanna ask. Not my business. And, y’know.” She grimaced. “Didn’t really wanna relive the moment I walked in on you two.”

Freen let out something between a scoff and a groan. “Jesus, Nam—”

“What?” Nam threw her hands up, grinning now. “You think I wanted that image burned into my brain?” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

Despite herself, Freen huffed a laugh. A small one, but it was something.

Nam caught it. Sobering slightly, she nudged Freen’s arm. “I mean it, though. I won’t pry, but if you wanna talk—y’know, before you start making really bad decisions—I’m all ears.”

Freen let out a long breath, her eyes drifting to the floor as she leaned back against the counter. She didn’t need to go into every detail; Nam didn’t need the play-by-play. But she told her everything—how things between her and Becca changed, Becca’s confession. Their physical arrangement was just the tip of the iceberg, but Freen wasn’t ready to unpack the rest.

Nam whistled low, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “So, let me get this straight—she confessed to you, and you panicked?”

Freen scowled, bristling. “I didn’t panic.”

Nam arched a brow. “Oh, my bad. You just stumbled over your words, slept with her, and then now you’re getting wasted over a situationship at some random party almost a week later. All because of your ‘sister’? Yeah, totally different.”

Freen clicked her tongue, looking away. “I didn’t just... sleep with her.”

Nam raised both eyebrows, a mischievous grin creeping onto her face. “Oh, really? Because that’s exactly what I walked in on that morning. You two looked like a couple of tangled-up messes. And here I thought you were going to play it cool.”

Freen’s face turned a shade of red. She scowled, trying to hide it. “Shut up, Nam.”

Nam let out a playful sigh, clearly not feeling sorry for her. “You’re telling me you’re not gonna call her? Not gonna try and, I dunno, fix the situation?”

Freen groaned, rubbing her temples. “She asked for space, alright? I can’t just pester her any time I want.”

“Next time, maybe don’t let her leave like that. Or at least offer her some coffee before she walks out of your life... literally.”

Freen clenched her jaw, the playful jab hitting too close to home. “It’s not like that,” she muttered, her voice low but firm.

Nam raised a skeptical brow, crossing her arms. “Then what is it like? What is she to you, Freen? A quick fuck? A game?”

“She’s not a quick fuck,” Freen snapped. “She’s… more than that.” Her throat tightened, and she exhaled shakily, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just... I need to figure some stuff out first. This... this is temporary. I just need time.”

Nam tilted her head. “Time for what, exactly? To figure out if you actually care about her, or to figure out if you’re brave enough to admit it?”

Freen flinched at the directness of the questions, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I already know I care about her,” she admitted. “I just... I don’t know how to be what she needs. Not yet.”

Nam arched a brow. "So… does Torfan know about Becca yet?"

"No.” Freen squeezed the bridge of her nose. “And I'd like to keep it that way for now."

"Oh man, Sarocha. When she eventually finds out - and you know she will - she's going to go nuclear."

"Trust me, I'm aware," Freen answered grimly. "I can already hear the lecture in my head.'"

"You can’t avoid her forever."

"I will tell her. Just... not yet. It’s complicated. I don’t need her questions—or her meddling—when I barely know what this even is yet."

"Uh-huh." Nam leaned back, arms crossed. "And oh, do take your time. It's not like Becca's got half the school wrapped around her finger or anything."

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nam shrugged, unfazed by Freen’s glare. “Look, all I’m saying is, you’re not the only one who’s into Becca. If you don't trust me, just wait. Someone's going to make a move eventually."

Freen scoffed, "Becca isn't the type to go after anything pointless. She's not going to fall for someone overnight." 

Nam gave her a knowing glance. "That so? But what if it wouldn’t be a fling? Are you truly okay with sitting back and watching that happen?" 

Freen froze. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to answer.

Nam smirked. "You see, that is what I am talking about. You're so wrapped up in your world, believing she'll always be there when you're ready. What if she isn't?"

Freen let out a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. "You think I don't know that? I just—What if I make things worse? I don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to relationships."

Nam snorted. “Oh, you mean Billy and your flings?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, those don’t count. You two were practically just using each other. It was never serious. Well, I know for sure you weren’t.”

“It’s not just that,” she muttered, staring at the counter. "Billy and I mutually ‘liked’ each other. But let's be honest: we were together because it was convenient. We looked fantastic on paper, so it was easy. It's okay if it ends. We'd move on eventually." She breathed sharply, her fingers tapping against her cup. "But with Becca…if I screw this up—" She halted, her throat tightening. "I don't want to lose her, Nam."

Nam studied Freen before asking. “Do you love her?”

Freen stiffened. Her fingers twitched at her sides as a wave of unease crept up her spine every time that subject was breached.

“That’s not—” She stopped. “I don’t know.”

Nam’s silence stretched between them. It wasn’t judgment—it never was with Nam. But that didn’t make it any easier to stand under her scrutiny.

Freen exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “What if it’s just… infatuation?” Her voice wavered. “What if I think I want this—think I want her—and then one day I wake up and it’s gone? What if I fall out of love when we’re already in too deep? What if I—What if I hurt her?”

Nam sighed, crossing her arms. “You’re already hurting her.”

Freen flinched. She knew that.

“You’re scared, and I get it. But love isn’t about knowing how things will end before they even begin. You don’t get guarantees, Freen. No one does. But if you’re this afraid of losing her, doesn’t that mean she already matters?”

Freen stayed still, her eyes glued to her cup, but Nam wasn’t about to drop it. "Be honest with me—are you stuck because it’s Becca? Or because she’s a girl?"

Freen tightened her grasp, but Nam did not wait for an answer. “I mean, I didn’t even think you swung that way. You, of all people.” She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Freen let out a slow breath, rolling the cup between her hands. “It’s not like I ever had a problem with it,” she muttered. “It just… wasn’t something I thought about for myself. I went out with guys because that’s just how it was.”

Nam hummed, tapping her fingers against the counter. “Right. And then there’s Becca.”

Freen exhaled sharply through her nose. “Yeah. Then there’s Becca.”

Nam studied her for a moment before shrugging. “I mean, I don’t care. Love who you love, whatever. But not everyone’s gonna be as chill about it.” She tilted her head. “So, is that what’s messing with you? You’re scared of how people are gonna take it?”

Freen sighed and rubbed her palm across her face. "It's not that," she admitted, her voice softer. "I don't mind if they talk. Let them. They usually do. And yeah, this is new for me, but that's not what's stopping me."

Nam raised an eyebrow and waited.

Freen exhaled sharply. “If we cross that line and it crashes, that’s it. There’s no undoing it. You really think I can just sit next to her, listen to her talk about some other guy—or girl—and not lose my mind? Act like I don’t know exactly how she sounds when she’s out of breath, or how she looks first thing in the morning?”

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the counter, jaw tight. “I’d have to pretend it doesn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter.”

Nam leaned on the counter, watching her. “You keep talking like you’re one step away from ruining everything.” She tilted her head. “What if you don’t?”

Freen scoffed, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. I screw things up, Nam. It’s what I do.”

Nam rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. That’s dramatic, even for you.”

Freen let out a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “No, it’s not.” She glanced away, jaw tight. “I push people too hard. I get jealous over stupid things. I say things I don’t mean.” Her fingers curled into a fist. “I ruin things before they even have a chance to go wrong.”

Nam watched her for a beat, then smirked. “Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that. You are a piece of work.”

Freen shot her a glare, but Nam just shrugged.

“I mean, I’ve seen you blow up over the smallest things. Like that time Billy talked to his ex and you ghosted him for a week just to prove a point.”

Freen scoffed. “That’s different. Anyway, the point is, I don’t want to do that to her. Becca doesn’t deserve that.” Her voice dropped lower. “She doesn’t deserve me screwing this up.”

Nam let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh my god, you’re exhausting.”

Freen shot her a dry look, but Nam just smirked.

“Look, you like her, she likes you. You’re both already making each other miserable dancing around it, so what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Nam shrugged. “Okay, fine. It could blow up in your face. It could end in flames. But you know what’s a guaranteed way to lose her? Doing nothing.” She gave Freen a pointed look. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

Freen shot her a dry look. “Wow. Thanks. Problem solved.”

Nam rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. You keep acting like it’s inevitable, like you’ve already lost before you’ve even tried.” She tilted her head. “But what if—for once—you don’t let your own bullshit get in the way?”

She gave Freen a pointed look. “You want Becca? Then go after her before someone else beats you to it. She’s not invisible, you know. Unless you want to keep playing it safe, of course. Just don’t be surprised if she’s not still waiting around for you when you finally get your shit together.”

Freen looked away, irritation mixing with an unsettling feeling in her chest. "I don’t even know half of what I’m doing. I just—"

"Then do something. Anything. You're not going to keep her by standing still."

Freen rubbed her temples. She needed to do something. Anything. But what?

She straightened, clearing her throat as the question popped into her head. “Hey, do you know if there’s a band competition happening downtown this weekend?”

Nam tilted her head. “Yeah, there’s one tomorrow—Saturday. It’s gonna be packed. Why? You thinking of showing up?”

Freen tapped her fingers against the counter, hesitating for half a second before asking, “Is there a flower shop near the venue?”

Nam blinked. Then, slowly, a smirk spread across her face. “A flower shop? Seriously? What’s this, a rom-com moment? Should I start filming?”

Freen shot her a flat look. “Just answer the question.”

“There’s a boutique a few blocks away,” Nam said, clearly biting back a laugh. “I can send you the location—though I’m dying to know if you actually plan on using whatever you buy.”

Freen exhaled through her nose, brushing a hand through her hair like she could push away the nerves with it. “Hey… would you come with me?” She kept her voice even, but the weight behind the words was obvious. “I don’t really do this sort of thing.”

Nam’s smirk faltered for a split second before amusement took over again. “Hold up. Freen Sarocha actually admitting she needs help? Damn, I should record this for proof.”

“Nam.”

“Alright, alright.” Nam held up her hands in surrender, though her grin was anything but innocent. “I’ll come. But if you crash and burn, I’m clowning you all the way home.”

Freen huffed, shaking her head, but there was the faintest hint of relief in her exhale.

Nam nudged her shoulder. “Relax. You’ll be fine. Probably.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nam slung an arm around her. “But you’d be lost without me.”

xXXXx

The weight of the bouquet in her hands felt ridiculous. Too extra even for her.

Freen shifted her grip on the flowers, scowling at the soft pink wrapping. She should’ve gone for something simpler. But the florist had been a little too enthusiastic, and now she was stuck holding a bouquet of deep red roses mixed with white freesias. The setup was undeniably romantic.

Nam, standing next to her, let out a low whistle. "Wow. Never imagined I'd see the day."

Freen gave her a glare. "Shut up."

Nam just smirked. "You, of all people, are standing here with flowers? For a girl?" She crossed her arms, shaking her head as if she were witnessing history being made. "Honestly, I'm in awe. If anyone asks, I'll just say you lost a bet." 

The noise of the competition hall buzzed around them—students shuffling to their seats, the distant tuning of instruments, the low murmur of conversation. It was crowded, but her focus honed in on just one person.

Rebecca Patricia Armstrong.

God, this was stupid. The whole thing.

Waiting in a crowd just to hand over flowers like some love-struck idiot? Yeah, no. Not her thing. Not even close. She was the one people fawn over. But now? Here she was, clutching a damn bouquet like she was in a movie.

But ugh , the things she did for Rebecca.

Freen tightened her grip on the bouquet, her jaw ticking.

Nam, of course, caught it. “You know, it’s kinda cute seeing you all worked up like this.”

“Do you have to talk?” Freen muttered.

Nam snorted. “You’re the one who invited me.”

Freen sighed, resisting the urge to shove the flowers into Nam’s arms and walk away.

She watched as Becca adjusted the strap of her guitar, completely oblivious to Freen’s presence. The stage lights reflected in her hair, casting a glow against her skin. And for a moment—just a moment—Freen forgot how ridiculous she felt.

Her eyes moved to Becca's clothing, a beautiful, cut black suit with modest gold touches. Classy and professional, with nothing overly revealing or flamboyant. Freen felt a sense of relief. At least she didn't have to deal with guys admiring Becca tonight.

Nam caught the way Freen’s shoulders relaxed and smirked. “What? You expecting her to show up in a sequined crop top or something?”

Freen shot her a glare. “Can you not?”

Nam held up her hands, her grin widening. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But if you just stand there holding flowers like some awkward fan, I’m going to say, ‘I told you so.’”

Ignoring her, Freen looked back at the stage. Becca was tuning her guitar, nodding to the rest of her band as they prepared for their performance. The small gathering of students shouted, some waving banners with the band's name scribbled in large, colorful characters. Freen's chest clenched at the sight; Rebecca belonged up there, blazing like the star she was.

But, as much as Freen wanted to hurry forward and hand her the flowers, she knew this was not the time. Becca was still competing, still focused. Freen didn’t want to distract her—not when this moment was so important.

She took a step back, leaning against the wall next to Nam. “I’ll wait until it’s over.”

Nam raised an eyebrow. “Don’t overthink it. She’s going to love it, you know.”

The host's voice boomed over the speakers, breaking over the background talk and the odd shriek of feedback from the microphone.

The audience exploded in cheers, a sea of arms waving in joy, and whistles rang out as a group at the front hoisted a giant, hand-painted banner that said, "Go Mavericks!" in large, sparkling letters.

Freen felt excitement rise in her chest. She wasn't particularly fond of crowded places, but there was something electric about this moment. The dim lighting of the auditorium was punctuated by flashing colored spotlights, and a low rumble of bass hummed through the floor as The Mavericks took their places on stage.

Becca was last to step into the spotlight, and Freen couldn’t help but notice how natural she looked up there—confident but not arrogant, smiling just enough to tease the crowd without giving everything away. Jamie leaned into his mic.

“Alright, everyone, we’ve got something special for you tonight. Hope you’re ready to get loud!”

The cheers grew louder, and Freen rolled her eyes at the sight of Jamie throwing finger guns at the audience. She glanced at Nam, who was clearly holding back a laugh.

“Show-off,” Freen muttered under her breath.

The first notes of their opening cover rang out—a powerful guitar riff that instantly hooked the crowd. Becca’s hands moved deftly over her guitar strings. The Mavericks kicked things off with a high-energy cover of “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen, and the audience ate it up.

The second cover was a stripped-down acoustic rendition of Coldplay's "Yellow." The exuberant energy of the room softened as the tempo decreased, and a stillness fell over the audience. People danced gently in unison, holding up their phone flashlights, transforming the darkened area into a sparkling sea of tiny stars. Becca took the lead vocals on this one, her voice deep and velvety, sending shivers down Freen's spine.

"You're staring," Nam joked, barely loud enough for Freen to hear over the music.

"Shut it," Freen said reflexively, but her eyes never left Becca.

The third cover hit like a jolt of electricity—a slick mashup of The Weeknd’s Can’t Feel My Face and Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance. The Mavericks didn’t just blend the songs; they wove them together effortlessly, the transition so smooth it felt like they were always meant to be one track.

The bass thumped in time with the crowd's increasing excitement. Someone near Freen blew an impressed whistle. She barely noticed—her foot had already begun tapping along with the beat, a smirk pulling on her lips. Damn. She had to admit: they knew how to work a crowd.

Next came the originals. Jamie took a step forward to unveil the first one, "After the Storm," telling a brief anecdote about its production. The audience became hushed, hanging on every word and note as the musicians put their everything into the performance. Becca's harmonies with Jamie were flawless, and Freen, as much as she hated to admit it, couldn't ignore how beautifully they worked together onstage.

Finally, the second original is a duet. Jamie grinned at the crowd. "This one's called 'Close to You.' It's a duet that Becca and I composed together. I hope you like it.”

The duet began softly, with only Becca's guitar and Jamie's vocal, but it quickly evolved into something vibrant and nuanced, their voices weaving in and out of each other's in perfect timing. It was excellent, and Freen despised how much she enjoyed it.

Nam leaned forward. "I bet you'll say it's bad, huh?"

Freen scowled. “It’s fine.”

Nam laughed. “Liar.”

Freen ignored her, focusing on Becca instead. Even as Jamie sang his heart out beside her, it was Becca who held the room in the palm of her hand.

As the song ended, the audience erupted in applause. Becca and Jamie gave high-fives and smiled before bowing alongside the rest of the band. Freen's chest clenched at the sight of them appearing so relaxed and in sync.

Nam gave her a knowing glance. "Do you still want to wait until it's over?"

Freen did not say anything, just tightened her grip on the roses.

The crowd was still humming with enthusiasm when Becca's band fled the stage. The host's voice broke through the microphone.

"What a performance by The Mavericks! Can we discuss the duet? Becca Armstrong and Jamie Foster have incredible chemistry! Let us give them another round of applause!"

The crowd complied, their cheers strong and unrelenting. Becca's smile was hardly broken as she waved to the audience, her cheeks heated. Jamie slung an arm around her shoulders for a brief second before the band found their way to the front row, now spectators like everyone else.

Freen remained riveted to her location along the wall, her grasp on the bouquet tight. She could hear Nam's soft snicker next to her.

"Relax," Nam teased, nudging her arm. "You're holding those flowers like they owe you money."

Freen forced her fingers to relax. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her gaze flicking to where Becca now sat.

The next few bands followed in quick succession, each bringing their own flair. The audience clapped politely for some and cheered enthusiastically for others, but it was clear the bar had been set high.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the emcee announced, rising over the commotion, "it's time for the evening's final band; I know you've been waiting for them! Please welcome The Skylarks!"

The crowd erupted. Whistles and cries rang out as the lights dimmed, and the stage took on a gloomy palette of deep blues and delicate golds. 

"They're the crowd favorite for a reason," the host said. "And let me tell you, their lead singer is already regarded as a future music star. You do not want to miss this."

Freen's gaze was pulled to the stage as the lead vocalist appeared from the shadows, accompanied by her entourage. Morgan. The name circulated across the audience in both whispers and applause. Her fitted leather jacket and dark jeans emanated confidence despite her wearing it like a second skin. 

Nam leaned in closer to Freen, her voice low enough to drown out the crowd noise. "That’s Morgan Sterling. She's like royalty at Baton Rouge Academy, which won the regional championship last year. Their lead singer is like a living legend in the city."

Freen's brow wrinkled, her gaze remained focused on Morgan. She couldn't deny it: there was something magnetic about her. Attractive, even. Not in the same way that Becca was, but in such a way that she could not be ignored.

"Great," Freen mumbled under her breath.

The Skylarks launched into their first song, a heart-pounding anthem that immediately invigorated the audience. The bass boomed throughout the floor, and the sharp snap of the snare propelled the rhythm forward. Morgan was at the center of everything. When she moved forward, the lights caught the sparkle of her gray eyes, which scanned the audience with such intensity that no one dared to turn away. Her movements were precise and flowing, reminiscent of a seasoned performer. A confident sweep of her arm here and a tiny tilt toward the microphone there. The room was hers, and she knew it.

"She's good," Nam conceded, interrupting Freen's thoughts. "Do you think she will win?"

Freen forced a shrug. "Becca’s better."

The Skylarks seamlessly moved into their second song, instantly capturing the audience. Morgan sung the opening lines of Dove Cameron's "Boyfriend" in a sensual tone.

The steady rhythm of the bass drum matched the pounding in her chest as Morgan prowled across the stage, her raven hair catching the light in fluid waves.

"I can be a better boyfriend than him,
I can do the things that he never did,”

Morgan stepped off the stage, the crowd erupting in cheers and parting like waves as she descended. Freen’s eyes followed her, unable to look away from the sharp lines of Morgan’s smirk and the self-assured sway in her stride.

Morgan's gaze shifted to the front row, her lips twisting into a knowing smile in the middle of the song, her voice lowering just enough to sound like she was singing to someone.

"Oh, fuck no," Freen whispered under her breath, standing up straighter as Morgan's course became increasingly obvious.

The grin on Morgan’s face grew sharper as she sang the next line, her voice dripping with confidence.

“Up all night, I won't quit.

Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him”

Freen’s stomach twisted as Morgan moved through the crowd with a predator’s grace, her steps slow. Each stride was drawing closer and closer to the row where Becca sat. Freen told herself it was probably just part of the performance—Morgan working the crowd, soaking up attention. But when Morgan stopped directly in front of Becca, that explanation felt less convincing. She could feel her heart hammering in her ears, drowning out the discussion and clapping around her, as the singer came to a halt in front of Becca.

The crowd exploded in gasps and applause, but Freen barely noticed. Her jaw clinched as she saw Becca look up, her expression inscrutable from where Freen was. A flicker of something ugly and sharp shot through her—jealousy, maybe, or fear masquerading as anger. All Freen saw was Morgan, leaning in just enough to make the space between them feel intentional. Her eyes locked onto Becca’s. And Becca—she wasn’t pulling away. Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face, a hint of color rising to her cheeks.

Freen’s stomach tightened. The noise of the room dulled, her pulse hammering in her ears as she tried to process what the hell she was looking at. That wasn’t the kind of reaction Becca would have to a complete stranger. Becca was composed, careful—even around people who tried to charm her.

Freen’s mind screamed for rationality—maybe it was nothing. Maybe Becca was just surprised, thrown off by the sudden attention. But the flicker of color on Becca’s cheeks and the way her body seemed to lean back slightly, as though trying to create space while failing to break Morgan’s gaze, told Freen otherwise.

“I could be such a gentleman.

As Morgan sang the next verse, she raised her hand and lightly traced the side of Becca’s face with the backs of her fingers, a feather-light touch that had the room buzzing with excitement.

Plus all my clothes would fit.”

Becca froze at first. The way her lashes fluttered and her breath hitched didn’t escape Freen’s notice.

Freen felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Her grip on the flowers tightened until the stems creaked, but she didn’t care. Nor does she hear the crowd’s cheering grow louder. All she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears and the pounding of her own heartbeat.

The Skylarks transitioned smoothly into their next song, but Freen’s focus was anywhere but the other members of the band. Her gaze burned into Morgan, who was now returning to the stage.

Nam leaned closer, her tone light but laced with amusement. “Looks like you’ve got some serious competition.”

Freen tore her eyes away to glare at her friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nam cocked her head toward the stage, where Morgan cast another glance at Becca, her smirk lingering. "You saw it, Freen. That wasn't for the crowd; it was for Becca. And your girl didn't really shut it down, did she?"

Freen scowled, her jaw hardening as she turned her attention back to the performance. “She’s not my girl,” she muttered, though the words tasted bitter.

Nam shrugged. “Maybe not, but with someone like that singer making a move, you might want to figure out what you’re doing. She's not very subtle about what she wants."

"I leave her alone for one second, and a damn vulture swoops in."

"What do you expect? Becca has options."

Freen sent her a frown. "Yeah, well, I don't remember giving anyone permission to take one."

Nam lifted her brow, plainly amused. "Right. Because that's how it works."

The Skylarks ended their act with a stunning climax that elicited deafening cheers from the audience. Morgan stepped forward for her bows. When her eyes landed on Becca, she winked—a gesture that didn’t escape Freen’s notice.

Nam chuckled alongside her, adding fuel to the fire. "You've really got your work cut out for you."

Freen's claws dug into the flower stalks, with only the creak of the petals to keep her grounded. "Oh, she has no idea who she's dealing with."

Nam lifted an eyebrow. "Now that's the spirit."

The show went on, but Freen stopped paying attention. Her gaze was fixed on Becca, who was shifting nervously in her seat, her fingers carelessly brushing against the side of her face—the exact spot Morgan had touched. The sight irritated Freen even more.

She took a long breath as her thoughts raced. If this wanna-be-singer believed she could swoop in and seize what wasn't hers, she had another thing coming.

The lights darkened briefly as the host returned to the stage, microphone in hand, smiling brightly as cheers and applause filled the crowd.

"Give it up one more time for all the incredible bands tonight!" the emcee called out, nodding toward the crowd. The audience responded with a roar—cheers, whistles, and even rhythmic stomping echoing through the bleachers.

Freen’s eyes flicked to The Mavericks. They remained seated, but the anticipation in the air was clear enough. Becca, in particular, kept tugging at the hem of her jacket, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as if biting back nerves.

The intermission acts had ranged from electrifying dance numbers to stripped-down acoustic sets. All meant to keep the crowd entertained. But the real buzz returned when the house lights dimmed once more. A hush rippled through the venue as the emcee strode back on stage, a sealed envelope in hand.

"All right, everyone," he said, his voice carrying over the expectant silence. "It’s time to announce tonight’s winners!"

The venue erupted with cheers, whistles, and shouts. The emcee let the energy build, his grin widening as he lifted the sealed envelope. "Let's start with our second runner-up, the band that won the bronze trophy tonight. Drumroll, please!"

A low rumbling echoed through the speakers. With a quick tear, the emcee opened the envelope. "Give it up for... Blue Fire!"

The response was quick. Blue Fire members jumped out of their chairs, exchanging grins and brief high-fives before heading toward the stage. The overhead lights caught the gleam of their medals as they were draped around their necks, and the weight of the trophy settled into their hands.

“Let’s hear it one more time for Blue Fire!” the host shouted, and the audience answered with another surge of cheers. Their frontman stepped forward, raising the trophy high above his head.

“Now,” the host continued. “for our first runner-up, the band that snagged the silver trophy… let’s hear it for The Skylarks!”

The ovation became louder as Morgan and her bandmates strutted onto the stage. Morgan waved to the audience, her grin bright as ever.

"Not bad," Nam whispered beside her, leaning in. "But I guess being 'almost' wasn't enough this time."

“And now,” the host’s voice boomed again, pulling everyone’s attention back, “the champions of tonight’s competition—the band that wowed the judges with their originality, performance, and undeniable chemistry…”

The drumroll began again, this time louder and faster.

“The Mavericks!”

There was a brief moment of stillness, as if the statement had taken everyone by surprise. Then followed the explosion, accompanied by a loud wave of cheers, whistles, and applause.

Becca's band was chaotic. Jamie sprang up, grabbing Becca in a jubilant hug, while the other band members high-fived and applauded loudly. Freen watched Becca laugh, the tightness in her shoulders dissipated as joy replaced it. 

"They did it," Nam remarked, nudging Freen again, this time with admiration rather than teasing.

Freen breathed out with relief, a slight smile pulling on her lips. Becca deserves it.

The Mavericks made their way to the platform, their steps faster and their smiles larger, as the host handed them the gold trophy. Becca stayed slightly behind the others, a shy but radiant smile on her face as she accepted her medal.

The crowd chanted their name, clapping in rhythm as the band took a bow.

The host leaned into the microphone again. "Let's give one more great round of applause to tonight's champs, the Mavericks!"

The crowd's cheers faded into background noise as Freen concentrated on Becca. Her innocent, sparkling smile lit up the stage, and for a moment, Freen forgot about everything else. 

Freen eased her grip on the bouquet. She wanted to give Becca her moment and watch her enjoy the limelight before approaching her. She could wait for a little longer, she decided. But suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Morgan walking towards her on stage. 

Freen tightened her grip on the bouquet instinctively until she heard the crinkling of the cellophane.

Morgan leaned in to speak to Becca, and whatever she said earned a small laugh. Becca’s face softened in the way it did when she wasn’t overthinking or guarded, and Freen felt a faint twist in her chest.

Freen watched as Becca tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still smiling, still engaged in whatever conversation they were having.

She let out a quiet breath, her jaw tightening just a fraction. Enough waiting. She adjusted her grip on the bouquet, her feet moving before she could second-guess herself.

Morgan was mid-sentence when Freen stepped onto the stage. The subtle shift in Becca’s expression—the flicker of surprise, the way her gaze immediately landed on Freen—made Freen’s heart jolt, even if she kept her face calm.

"Freen?"

Freen smiled softly, concealing the faint uneasiness that lingered in her chest. “Congratulations, Becbec. You were incredible up here."

She held out the bouquet, her heart thudding quietly as her lips tugged upward in a real grin.

Becca's eyes widened slightly before softening even further. Her lips parted, and before Freen could react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I didn't think you'd come," Becca muttered.

Freen froze for a moment, astonished by the warmth of Becca's hug, before melting into it. Her arms wrapped around Becca's waist, holding her softly but tightly, as if scared this moment would pass. "I wouldn't dare to miss it."

She let herself savor the closeness, the familiar comfort of Becca’s touch that she’d missed far too much. Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in the faint, sweet scent of Becca’s perfume.

Her face dipped gently and rested in the crook of Becca's neck. The curve of Becca's shoulder fit wonderfully against her cheek, and Freen allowed herself a brief moment of pleasure. Her nose touched lightly against Becca's skin, and her lips trailed over the curve of her neck. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to send a soft shiver through her.

Becca stiffened, just slightly, and Freen forced herself to pull back, her hands lingering on Becca’s waist for a second too long before letting go. Becca stepped back, clearing her throat as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. She looked everywhere but at Freen.

"Thanks," Becca replied, her voice softer but somewhat strained, her hands fiddling with the medal around her neck. “For the flowers. And for being present."

Freen's lips curled into a little smile, but her heart was still racing. "Always, Becbec."

Morgan's voice broke through the silence. "Am I interrupting anything?" Her smirk was mischievous as she approached, hands tucked neatly into her jacket pockets.

Becca jumped upright. A flush of color appeared on her cheeks as she let out a short, unsure laugh and glanced between Freen and Morgan. “No—uh, not at all. Freen is just... a friend.”

Freen kept her expression neutral, her lips tugging into a tight smile, but the slight clench of her jaw gave her away. “Right,” she said lightly. “Just a friend.”

“Morgan, this is Freen.” Becca gestured toward Freen before turning to Morgan. "And, Freen, this is Morgan. I, uh, met her a while ago.”

Morgan extended a hand. “So you’re the Freen Sarocha,” she mused, her head tilting slightly as if sizing her up. “Your name comes up at my school every now and then. You've certainly made an impression."

"Good to know I'm not easily overlooked."

Morgan let out a small, knowing laugh, "No shade—just calling it like I see it." She returned her attention to Becca, "Anyway, congratulations. You killed it up here."

"Appreciate it," Becca muttered. “That means a lot." she gestures towards Freen. "I should go catch up with her."

Morgan nodded, stepping back, but not before tossing one last remark over her shoulder. "Looking forward to our date tomorrow, Princess."

Freen went rigid. Her fingers curled inside her jacket pocket, tightening around the fabric. She flicked her gaze to Becca, searching for some kind of reaction, some kind of explanation—but she kept her mouth shut, forcing herself to swallow down the urge to say something.

Becca's eyes widened as a faint flush rose up her neck. "It's not a date," she said quickly. Her brow furrowed as she gazed at Freen. "We're just... getting coffee to talk about music stuff." 

Morgan's laughter reverberated back at them as she walked back to the crowd. "Sure, whatever you say." 

Becca exhaled, pressing her lips together before turning toward the edge of the stage. Without another word, she started down the steps, and Freen followed, their movements stiff.

They reached the floor, but neither spoke right away. “She’s just being dramatic,” Becca muttered, avoiding Freen’s gaze, as though reassuring herself as much as the girl in front of her.

Freen tilted her head. “You really are taking this moving-on thing seriously.”

Becca froze for a moment before turning to Freen, her gaze narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Freen shrugged, her hands shoved into her pockets. “Nothing. Just... I didn’t think you’d be so quick to line up coffee dates.”

Becca's face furrowed as she gave out a short, humorless laugh. "Seriously?" she said, shaking her head. "Freen, we were never together." 

Freen blinked, caught off guard. "I didn't say we were."

Becca took a little step back, creating just enough space between them. “Then stop acting like you have a say in who I hang out with. I can go for coffee with whoever I want, and you don’t get to make passive-aggressive comments about it.”

Freen opened her mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in her throat. She averted her gaze and ran her tongue across the inside of her cheek before swallowing.

"I'm not trying to control you," Freen replied, finally meeting Becca's gaze. "I just...," she struggled to find the right words.

Becca inclined her head, waiting, her arms crossed in an expectant manner, as if she were daring Freen to say something genuine for once.

Freen's chest rose and fell as she struggled to arrange her thoughts, her emotions swirling. "I care about you, Bec," she explained. "I have always cared. And maybe I don't know how to show it that well, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

Becca's expression softened just little. She laughed briefly and without amusement while clutching the bouquet. "Freen, just because you care for me doesn't mean you can make me feel bad for wanting to move on. That's not fair." 

Freen's fingers clenched into fists by her sides. "You're right—I have no say over what you do or who you see. But this doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't—" She cut herself off, swallowing hard, the word "love" lodged in her throat.

Becca's gaze lingered, but there was still a hint of guardedness in her eyes. She didn’t step closer, but she didn’t step further away either. “Freen… I don’t know what you want from me,” she said quietly. “I care about what we have, but I can’t give you something that feels... temporary. I can’t be that for you.”

“I’m not asking for anything more,” Freen said carefully. “I just want us to be okay again. I want to spend time with you—not like before, not because we’re friends who... sleep together. I mean, I get it. You needed space, and maybe you still do, but I don’t want to be strangers with you. I do not want to lose whatever it is between us. Even if it's just..." She paused, her fingers fumbling at her sides. "Even if it's simply eating lunch or chatting every now and again. I can handle it."

Becca took in a deep breath and studied her. “I asked for space for a reason,” she murmured. “How am I supposed to move on if you’re still right there, acting like this?”

“Then don’t move on.”

Becca’s lips parted, her eyes flickering with disbelief, but she didn’t immediately shut Freen down. She just stood there, bouquet clenched tightly in her grasp, breathing unevenly.

Becca let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Freen—”

“I don’t know if this is love,” Freen cut in, voice unsteady. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling is enough for you. But I know if I don't act now, I'll be sorry later." She paused, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to wake up one day and find out that I—" Her throat tightened. "That I ruined everything before I even realized it."

Freen took a step closer, cautiously, as if any sudden movement would make Becca bolt. “I want to give you whatever I can give,” she said, searching Becca’s gaze. “Even if you don’t accept it. Even if you still want to see other people. We don’t even have to sleep together.” The words felt like glass in her mouth, sharp and bitter, but she forced them out anyway. “I won’t stop you. I wouldn’t even try.”

Becca took a shuddering breath and looked away. "Freen…"

"I just want to be close to you again." Freen's voice almost broke, but she gathered herself. "I won't ask for anything else. Just please don't shut me out.”

Becca pressed her eyes tight for a second. She looked torn, like she knew she shouldn’t say yes.

And yet, she hadn’t said no.

Because she wanted this too.

Even as she tried to push Freen away, there was still that part of her that wanted Freen to fight for her.

Freen saw it in the way Becca’s grip on the bouquet tightened. The way her lips pressed together like she was stopping herself from saying something she’d regret.

The silence stretched. Freen’s heart pounded.

Then Becca exhaled and met her eyes again, hesitant but resolute. “…I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Freen barely breathed. “But you’re not saying no.”

Becca’s lips parted, then closed again. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as if she was already bracing herself for the inevitable.

“…We can try.” she finally said.

Freen felt the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding finally escape her lips.

"We can try."

It wasn’t an assurance. But it was enough.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to reach out, to hold Becca the way she had so many times before—but she didn’t. Not yet anyway. 

Becca wasn’t looking at her. She was staring at the bouquet in her hands, running a thumb over the petals.

Freen swallowed hard, steadying herself. “Okay.”

Becca finally lifted her gaze, eyes searching Freen’s like she was trying to figure out if this was a mistake.

And maybe it was.

But Freen wasn’t going to let her go.

Becca exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “Don’t get the wrong idea. This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she muttered.

Freen swallowed. She couldn’t blame Becca for saying it—she had done nothing to earn that trust, at least not yet.

“I know,” she admitted, her voice softer now, lacking the usual bravado. “But I’ll change that.”

Becca scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “We’ll see,” she said, but there was no finality in her tone, no immediate rejection.

Freen exhaled through her nose, forcing a smirk—like she wasn’t standing there with her heart on the line. “Does this mean I don’t have to pretend I don’t see you in the hallways anymore?”

Becca let out a breathy, almost exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “I swear, you’re impossible.”

Freen grinned, but her fingers were still curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms.

Because she knew what this really was.

Becca was giving her an inch.

And she was going to take it.

The auditorium had mostly cleared out, with the bustle of the competition giving place to distant footsteps and muffled voices echoing down the corridors. Freen shifted her weight, her heart heavy but her determination unwavering.

"Time to leave." Becca remarked after a moment. She adjusted the strap of her guitar case over her shoulder.

Freen nodded, her lips pressed into a narrow line as she stepped beside Becca. Their footsteps resonated quietly through the now-empty area.

As they approached the exit, the city air met them. Becca paused, staring up at the night sky for a moment before turning to face Freen.

"Thanks again for showing up."

“Anything for you.”

Becca's smile faded for a brief moment before she nodded, her attention fixed on Freen. She took a slight step back. "I should leave. The band is going to an after-party."

“Right. Have fun.”

Freen watched her leave, her hands slipping into her jacket pockets.

Not just friends. Not together either. Somewhere in between—where the lines blurred and feelings simmered beneath the surface, waiting for something, anything, to tip them over.

Her grip tightened around the fabric inside her pockets. She had no right to ask Becca for more. Maybe not ever. But she would prove it—whatever this was, whatever it could be.

Because even now, as Becca walked away, Freen felt an overwhelming need to pursue her, to hug her before the divide between them became permanent. But she remained locked in place, convincing herself that this tenuous truce was enough for her.

Maybe because deep down, Freen knew that this wasn’t where their story ended. Not when every part of her ached to be closer to her. And as she stood there, watching Becca’s silhouette disappear into the night, she made a silent promise to herself.

This wasn’t over.

"Freen, Sarocha Chankimha!" Nam's voice came out from behind her, interrupting Freen's thoughts. She turned around to see Nam rushing up to her, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

"What now?" Freen mumbled under her breath, bracing herself when Nam paused just short of pushing a finger into her chest.

"Seriously? You left me waiting the moment you saw her," Nam admonished. "One minute, we're standing there, cheering on the bands. The next moment, you're rushing across the theater like a lovesick—" She halted, her eyes narrowing. “Actually, never mind. That’s exactly what you are.”

“I wasn’t rushing.”

Nam groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “I looked like an idiot standing there by myself while everyone else was clearing out. Do you know how many people asked if I got ditched? Because I lost count after five.”

Freen smirked, some of the tension she’s feeling eased at Nam’s dramatic flair. “Well, you’re resourceful. I figured you’d survive.”

“That’s not the point!” Nam huffed, her eyes narrowing further. “The point is that you ditched me for your ‘sister’--- crush —whatever she is to you. And don’t even try to deny it.”

Freen rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling just slightly. "Fine. I am sorry, okay? Next time, I'll leave you a note."

Nam gasped in faux indignation and clutched her chest. "A note? Wow, what consideration. Should I also expect you to send a carrier pigeon?"

Freen snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

"Someone has to be, considering how bad you are at communicating." Nam replied, stepping closer, and giving Freen a knowing glance. "So? How did it go?" 

Freen hesitated. “It’s... a start.”

Nam raised his brow, expecting more, but Freen didn't elaborate. Instead, she turned on her heel and began walking down the street.

“Wait, that’s it? ‘A start’? You’re not even going to give me details?” Nam called after her, jogging to keep up.

Freen glanced over her shoulder, her smirk widening. "Friends don't kiss and tell, Nam."

Nam gasped loudly and threw her hands up again. "Unbelievable! After everything I went through with you??"

"Yeah, but you still love me."

Nam rolled her eyes but did not dispute, matching Freen's pace as they walked to the parking lot.

Chapter Text

Freen lay in bed, one arm flung over her eyes, the other gripping her phone so tight her fingers ached. She had checked the time four times in the past ten minutes.

10:47 PM.

Their ‘date’ was probably over by now. Or was it? Maybe they were still out. 

Get a grip.

She tossed her phone onto the sheets and let her head fall back against her pillow, eyes trained on the ceiling. It wasn’t like she had a right to be upset. She wasn’t Becca’s girlfriend. Plus, she already told Becca she wouldn’t stop her from seeing other people.

But the mere thought of Morgan leaning in close, let alone holding Becca’s hand, made her want to break something.

Her gaze flicked back to her phone. The screen remained dark.

No message. No update. Nothing.

Would Becca text her when she got home?

Did she even want to know?

Freen exhaled harshly, running a hand through her hair. She could text first. Ask how it went. Maybe pretend she wasn’t thinking about it all night.

F: Hey. How was it?

She typed it out. Hovered her thumb over send.

Then she erased it.

The last thing she needed was for Becca to know she was waiting.

Freen groaned, staring at the phone again.

She could call.

She could ask about something school-related, anything that didn’t sound like she was fishing for details. Or she could say, "Are you home?" and let the conversation unfold from there.

But what if she wasn’t home yet?

Freen clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into the sheets. Becca’s not like that. She wasn’t the type to sleep with someone after just one date.

…Right?

Freen squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the thought away.

Her mind, however, had other plans. She can imagine Morgan reaching out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Their voices dropping, words getting softer, closer. Becca tilting her head, lips parting—

She shot up, breathing hard, dragging a hand over her face.

Stop. Fucking stop.

The air in her room felt suffocating.

She pushed the covers off, planting her feet on the floor, but even standing didn’t help. Freen’s fists clenched at her sides.

Maybe she had spent too long pushing Becca away, keeping her at arm’s length, all for the sake of pretending she didn’t feel everything she wasn’t supposed to feel.

Freen exhaled sharply, pacing to the other side of the room, gripping the edge of her desk. Her knuckles went white.

She scoffed under her breath. Becca would probably laugh at her if she knew how ridiculous she was being right now.

They had an agreement. And that meant this wasn’t supposed to bother her.

Freen sank back onto the edge of her bed, legs bouncing, her fingers drumming restlessly against her thigh.

She could always ask about it tomorrow—it’s not a big deal.

Maybe something along the lines of:

“How was your weekend?”

“Did Morgan bore you to death?”

“Haven’t heard from you all day yesterday. Still breathing?”

Yes. She could wait.

And wait, she shall.

xXXXx

Freen sat slouched at her desk, her chin resting on her palm, her fingers idly tapping against the cold surface. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weighed down by the consequences of a sleepless night spent drowning in thoughts she’d rather not indulge in.

She didn’t even know if their ‘date’ had gone well. Maybe it had. Maybe it hadn’t. But the fact that it had happened at all was enough to drive her insane.

She tilted her head back, eyes closing just for a second. She had barely slept, but even exhaustion couldn't dull the way her heart kicked at the sound of approaching footsteps.

And then—

Becca.

The world seemed to slow as soon as she stepped through the doorway and into the room.

Freen straightened, the weight on her shoulders lifting as if she’d been holding her breath all morning without realizing it. Her lips parted slightly, her fingers going still against the desk. A warmth bloomed in her chest, so familiar, so immediate, so helplessly hers.

A single day. It had only been one day of not seeing the other girl. 

And yet, seeing her now—her face, the loose strands of hair falling over her cheek, the slight furrow in her brow as she walked toward their table—felt like relief pooling into her veins.

Freen fought the stupid, almost embarrassing urge to reach out, to touch, just to make sure Becca was really here. Instead, she settled for drinking her in with her eyes, letting the sight of her soothe her yearning.

Her gaze subconsciously flickered downward at Becca’s neck

No marks. No hickey.

A breath of satisfaction left her before she could even stop it.

But then—

A necklace.

A thin chain of gold, sitting just above the hollow of Becca’s throat. The small G-clef pendant gleamed against Becca’s skin.

Freen’s stomach dropped.

Not a hickey. But this was worse.

Had she seen that before? No, she would’ve noticed. She always noticed.

She didn't realize she was gripping the edge of the desk until Becca finally reached her seat, until their eyes met, until the brightness Freen felt at seeing her was suddenly at war with the bitterness clawing at her chest.

She forced her gaze away. ‘Don’t ask. Just let it go.’ But her eyes betrayed her, drawn back to the way the pendant rested just above Becca’s sternum, moving slightly with each breath she took.

Freen bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

“So,” she heard herself say, “new necklace?”

Becca blinked, as if she hadn’t expected Freen to speak, let alone notice. She glanced down, fingers brushing over the pendant.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Freen could’ve let it go. Well, she should’ve. But why would she? Asking about a necklace can pass off as casual conversation, right?

“Looks nice." She pushed forward before she could think better of it. “Where’d you get it?”

Becca hesitated. Then, as if deciding something, she exhaled.

“Oh, um… Morgan gave it to me.”