the grass is damp beneath her boots , the bonfire’s glow painting everything gold and shadow. lola spots him near the edge of the crowd , half-lit by the flicker of the flames , a drink in hand like he’s just passing time. the noise of the jubilee hums around them - laughter , the faint strum of a guitar , someone yelling across the lake - but it all fades when she starts walking his way.

she doesn’t bother with a hello. instead , she sidles up beside him , close enough her shoulder brushes his arm and tilts her head just enough to catch his eye. a smirk ghosting across her mouth.

“truth or dare , westbrook?” she asks , tone lazy but loaded. “and before you pick . . i’m playin’ dirty tonight.”

her gaze holds his for a moment too long , like she’s already picturing every possible answer and exactly how she’d use it against him. the fire pops in the background - eerily similar to the one igniting in her stomach - while she leans in the slightest bit closer. “so . . choose wisely.”

for a moment , she just stares at him - the firelight licking gold across his cheekbones , his words still heavy in the air between them. her fingers , mid-way through tucking a strand of hair behind her ear stall like they’re suddenly too aware of themselves.

“. . you know it’s like , an eternity of bad luck if you don’t tell the full truth durin’ this game.” she says finally , voice low , teasing on the surface but weighted underneath. her eyes flick away to the fire for a second to compose herself - a rare retreat - before snapping back to his with that same slow-burn smirk.

she steps in just a fraction closer , enough for her perfume and the faintest hint of smoke to mingle in the space between them. “. . now ask me.”

another day , another fender bender. it’s not like she was going out of her way to be reckless ; but have you ever spent nearing twelve-hours in a salon listening to client after client complain about how awful their marriages are? ‘ oh, he doesn’t take out the trash - oh, he never bought me flowers last weekend ‘ . . it was enough to drive any woman to the brink and that’s exactly where lola was teetering the second she clocked off, hopped on ms. harley and had every intention of making a quick pit stop at the stags nest.

. . except, an unknowing pothole on the road had other plans - which reminded her, she needed to write to . . someone important about that - . . it wasn’t anything nasty ; she’d had worse tumbles on that thing for sure. a busted up knee with some gravel neatly embedded in the depths of her skin was the least of her worries. alas, with employee rachel on maternity leave, she couldn’t really afford the luxury of waiting and seeing if it turned into a gnarly little infection.

hence finding herself in this exact spot ; where she’s been probably a dozen or more times before. curled up fist knocking firmly on the door. pursed lips tried to hide any sort of guilt from etching itself onto her features . . which they probably failed miserably at. no words were exchanged as of yet - kind eyes doing all that for her as she stepped inside his very humble abode ; setting herself down onto the cushions of his couch, tucking slightly bloody and scratched up hands beneath her thighs awkwardly.

“. . saw the lights on. figured you could use the company.”

hilarious.

she could feel his eyes on her , that same steady scan he always did . . the kind that wasn’t looking for flaws so much as making sure every part of her was still in one piece ; while it barely was , she’d near enough mastered the art of pretending like she was. however , he seemed to be one of the only ones able to call her bluff - even if he didn’t do it aloud.

“what happened?” he asked , and she tried for a casual , unnerved tone. “me , the road , a pothole that hates me - same old story.” her voice came out lighter than it felt , a flimsy cover over the dull ache in her knee and the sharper one somewhere deeper.

her fingers tapped against her thigh before stilling. “truth? i could’ve just cleaned it up myself . .” she admitted , eyes flicking to his for a second before dropping away again. “but . . i didn’t really want to be by myself tonight.”

there was a soft silence momentarily , the hum of his quiet house wrapping around them. she tried for a smirk , but it was softer at the edges this time. “and , well yeah , hospitals suck. smell like bleach and bad news. you’re a better bet ; plus , your waiting room’s got better throw pillows. ikea , right?”

a shaky exhale followed , then a quieter: “thanks , søren.” it wasn’t loud , wasn’t drawn out , but it was the kind of thanks that meant more than the word itself.

the grass is damp beneath her boots , the bonfire’s glow painting everything gold and shadow. lola spots him near the edge of the crowd , half-lit by the flicker of the flames , a drink in hand like he’s just passing time. the noise of the jubilee hums around them - laughter , the faint strum of a guitar , someone yelling across the lake - but it all fades when she starts walking his way.

she doesn’t bother with a hello. instead , she sidles up beside him , close enough her shoulder brushes his arm and tilts her head just enough to catch his eye. a smirk ghosting across her mouth.

“truth or dare , westbrook?” she asks , tone lazy but loaded. “and before you pick . . i’m playin’ dirty tonight.”

her gaze holds his for a moment too long , like she’s already picturing every possible answer and exactly how she’d use it against him. the fire pops in the background - eerily similar to the one igniting in her stomach - while she leans in the slightest bit closer. “so . . choose wisely.”

the smirk already present on her features deepens , pearly whites briefly sinking into her lower lip ; arms coming to wrap around her lithe body as the breeze drifted in across the lake. “only the nights i’m blessed with a bad influence.” she murmurs - still not fully meeting his gaze. “other than that . . i’m an angel.”

she hooks a thumb in the belt loop of her low-riders , eyes - finally - dragging deliberately over his face like she’s memorizing it all over again before settling on his fixation. “bold choice, though . .” the words came out in a hum ; turning her frame to face him: offering full , undivided attention now.

“what’s the one thing you’ve been dying to say to me but haven’t?” the question is casual in delivery , but it lands heavy , her voice dropping just a touch lower as she watches his reaction like it’s her favorite show.

                location : søren's  home .

another day , another fender bender. it’s not like she was going out of her way to be reckless ; but have you ever spent nearing twelve-hours in a salon listening to client after client complain about how awful their marriages are? ‘ oh, he doesn’t take out the trash - oh, he never bought me flowers last weekend ‘ . . it was enough to drive any woman to the brink and that’s exactly where lola was teetering the second she clocked off, hopped on ms. harley and had every intention of making a quick pit stop at the stags nest.

. . except, an unknowing pothole on the road had other plans - which reminded her, she needed to write to . . someone important about that - . . it wasn’t anything nasty ; she’d had worse tumbles on that thing for sure. a busted up knee with some gravel neatly embedded in the depths of her skin was the least of her worries. alas, with employee rachel on maternity leave, she couldn’t really afford the luxury of waiting and seeing if it turned into a gnarly little infection.

hence finding herself in this exact spot ; where she’s been probably a dozen or more times before. curled up fist knocking firmly on the door. pursed lips tried to hide any sort of guilt from etching itself onto her features . . which they probably failed miserably at. no words were exchanged as of yet - kind eyes doing all that for her as she stepped inside his very humble abode ; setting herself down onto the cushions of his couch, tucking slightly bloody and scratched up hands beneath her thighs awkwardly.

“. . saw the lights on. figured you could use the company.”

hilarious.