efy

Chapter 1 - 8k words

Chapter 2 - 6.6k words

Chapter 3 - 7.3k words

Chapter 4 - 7k words

Chapter 5 - 8.3k Words

Chapter 6 - 17th June 7pm BST

⋆˙⟡♡ The last thing you expected on the night of what should’ve been your tenth anniversary with your boyfriend was to be wildly tequila-drunk in some club at Ibiza, making out with a gorgeous footballer.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d end up single and kissing a girl — let alone a stunning, hazel-eyed goddess with cheekbones for days — you would’ve laughed in their face and probably told your boyfriend Matt how ridiculous that sounded.

But life had a funny way of blindsiding you right when you thought that you’ve got everything figured out. A year ago, you never would’ve imagined how completely your life was about to blow up.

And it all started when Matt broke up with you.

⋆˙⟡♡ You’ve been with Matt since you were thirteen. He sat next to you in art class and just randomly slipped you a note asking to be your boyfriend, and, somehow, you just… never broke up. You went through everything together from high school, college, and eventually, moving in together. He was your constant.

Even as life pulled everyone else away — first with your brother leaving for college, your dad passing, your mom traveling to cope with the loss — you stayed. Law school was the biggest change you allowed yourself, but even then, Matt remained the one stable thing in your life. It made you feel safe... or rather, secure. He was the reason why you felt no urge to step out of your comfort zone. 

You were mostly happy. But when your college friends started getting engaged, buying houses, having kids, you couldn’t ignore the creeping feeling of stagnation. While they were moving forward, you were still in the same town, with the same boyfriend, doing the same things you did ten years ago.

So, for the last year, you started dropping hints that you desired an engagement: a couple wedding Pinterest boards left open on your desktop, reposting engagement videos on Tiktok for him to see, mentioning that yet another college friend is getting married. You figured if you took that step, maybe things would shift, maybe you would finally feel like you were moving forward.

And you expected that he'd get the hint and pop the question before your tenth anniversary... only for him to drop a bomb on you.

"I think we need a break," he dared to say. "I just... think we're getting too comfortable and settled in our ways. We've grown boring."

He kept rambling about spontaneity, about trying new things, about how maybe time apart would magically make your relationship stronger… as if that made sense.

You sat there, irritation simmering under the surface. You were the one who put in the effort: planning dates, booking weekend trips, making sure things stayed somewhat interesting. And yet, somehow, that wasn’t enough. You never saw him make an effort on that aspect and now, he wanted an out? It was infuriating to you but you didn’t bother arguing. You were too busy thinking of a way to make him regret it.

⋆˙⟡♡Your brother was getting married in Spain in three months, to a beautiful and ridiculously wealthy woman named Inés. The wedding was set to be held at her family’s private resort on an island near Ibiza which meant that your whole family was flying in for two weeks of all-expenses-paid luxury. It was a dream… and the perfect opportunity.

This was your chance to remind Matt exactly what he was missing: some well-timed bikini thirst traps, fancy dinner photos that made it look like you were going on dates, and a couple of curated clubbing IG posts. Maybe then he’d realize his mistake.

But the idea of staying at home for a couple more months felt unbearable. So, you decided to head out to Spain earlier.

A couple of your close, younger cousins were backpacking in Europe for their summer break from college, and as soon as they heard about your little timeout with Matt, they pestered you about hitting Ibiza with them. 

So, you said fuck it. You drained the savings that you’ve been stupidly putting aside for a wedding, booked a last-minute flight, and landed in Spain with no itinerary or plans. 

How's that for spontaneity?

⋆˙⟡♡ You didn't like parties. Never liked clubs. Always hated the hangovers that inevitably came after drinking. 

But here you were, barely twenty-four hours into your trip, at a club in Ibiza with your college-aged cousins on your very first night and already two shots of tequila in. They dressed you up in their tiny strappy clothes and did your hair and makeup. You thought it was a tad too much, but now that you were stepping out of your comfort zone, you figured you might as well go all out and dive in.

Daisy slid another shot in front of you. “God, you’re so hot,” she said, hyping you up. “Stop looking so mopey, girl, Matt isn’t worth another thought.”

You forced a laugh, though your chest tightened. “It’s just… today was supposed to be our tenth anniversary.” You sighed. “I thought our anniversary would look more like a candlelit dinner where he’d propose. Not this.” You said, gesturing around the club.

“God, that was today?” Cam asked, biting her lip. “Why didn’t you tell us a while ago?”

“Well, duh, I didn’t want to really think about it but now it’s all I can think about.” You groaned, annoyed with yourself. 

“Two more tequila shots and I promise you, you will not be thinking about him for the rest of the night.” Cam said before eyeing the shot in front of you.

You chuckled before taking the shot and drinking it. You winced as the alcohol burned your throat. “How long until the memory loss kicks in?”

Your other cousin Daisy scrunched up her face. "I swear, cuz, if I were you, I would have forgotten about him like years ago." She commented. "He really isn't all that.

Cam nodded in agreement. “He's probably just wants a break 'cause he thinks he's gonna get to fuck around with models and shit. Little does he know you're as good as he can get."

"Gee, thanks, Cam." You retorted sarcastically at your cousin. She laughed at your reaction.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “He’s an accountant from the suburbs who is a couple months away from a bald spot and he bagged you. You were practically doing charity work dating him for that long.”

Daisy snorted. “I hate when ugly men ask for breaks to go find themselves when really they just wanna find other women.”

Can scoffed. “All Matt’s gonna find is the fact that he’s made a huge mistake.”

"Fuck, that's so mean but you're so right." You responded. "I just wish I can show him precisely that — that he got lucky with me, that I'm the catch."

Cam hummed. "If I were you, I'd take a cheeky photo with one of those tan hotties by the bar," she pointed at the group of buff and tall guys, clearly looking around for their conquest of the night. "That's a way to show him."

Daisy burst out laughing. “Girl, please. I doubt she can even ask that guy to pass her a napkin.” She looked you up and down. “No offense, cuz. But you lost your game hanging out with Mister Tax Returns.”

You frowned. "I thought you said I can bag any guy I want."

“Yeah, but… you actually have to flirt,” Daisy said simply. “And I love you, but I don’t think you can. Dating culture has changed a lot since you were last on the market. Guys don’t always make the first move anymore.”

You turned to Cam for backup, but she winced. “Sorry, cuz. If you’re waiting for a guy to come up to you, your chances are about as good as Matt’s hairline.”

“Don’t feel bad though,” Daisy added quickly, patting your arm like she was softening the blow. “I mean, also like… you’re just too nice. You’re like the kind of person who wouldn’t wanna feel like you’re using someone to move on.”

You rolled your eyes, mildly annoyed. Sure, there was some truth to it. You were a little meeker than your cousins, a little more awkward. You could blame Matt for stunting your ability to socialize, but if you were being honest, you’ve always been like this. 

But that was the old you. The one who thought she’d be celebrating a tenth anniversary tonight.

You were rebranding. You weren’t the same small-town girl anymore. You were going to be spontaneous.

“Nah, fuck you guys,” you said, shaking your head as your multiple tequila shots warmed your veins like liquid confidence. “I bet I can flirt with anyone in this club tonight.”

Your cousins’ eyes widened, then slowly lit with amused disbelief.

Cam leaned back, grinning. “I’ll stake a hundred euros on that right now.”

Daisy nodded. "I'll match that bet… but only if you can get absolutely anyone to kiss you right now."

Cam wrinkled her nose. “Ew, not just anyone. Pick someone who is at least a seven out of ten. And you can’t just ask. You gotta work for it, like actually flirt.”

You hummed, considering the challenge. Technically, you were single, so it wouldn’t be cheating. And if you couldn’t even convince your cousins that you could be bold and spontaneous, how were you supposed to convince Matt?

You had to do this. Not just to prove it to them but to prove it for yourself.

“Okay. Game on.”

⋆˙⟡♡ All your confidence was slowly being chipped away with every failed flirtation attempt.

You went big for your first try: the tall, tan guy who looked like he belonged in perfume commercials or romantic erotica book covers. You walked up to him, determined to charm him and get him to kiss you. Only for you to stumble upon the first three words you said. In an attempt to save face, you just pretended to be looking for the toilet, too pussy to continue after fucking up your introduction.

You settled for another guy: someone who resembled Matt more, someone who looked like they could be a suburban guy. This one, at least, looked like he was a tourist too. There was less pressure to speak in your broken and barely practiced Spanish. But even your English failed you. 

"Hey," you smiled at him. "Are you here alone?”

The guy smiled. “I’m with friends.”

You hesitated, nodding. “That’s one thing we have in common then. We both have friends.”

“...Right.” The guy responded, unsure of what else to say as he looked at you with confusion. You stood still there for a moment, unsure of how to salvage the situation, before apologizing and walking away.

You were ready to give up when you made eye contact with another guy on the dance floor. Moderately cute, definitely fit, chest obnoxiously exposed, overly tan and hair gelled within an inch of its life. Basically a walking red flag, but at this point you were desperate.

He motioned for you to come over and dance with him. You gulped and nodded, trying to spread out the morsel of confidence left in your body. For a moment, it felt like shit was going well. You weren't speaking, which was good, because as verbose and well-spoken you were in your regular life, you seemed to have misplaced twenty IQ points on the plane ride to Spain. You followed the rhythm, dancing near each other.

You figured this could be your shot... until he touched your waist. That caused you to jump like a ghost and scurry off, uneasy over the physical touch from someone who looked like a herpes magnet.

You didn't have to look over to your cousins to know that those two were having the time of their lives watching you make a fool out of yourself. They were amazing girls who were always supportive of you but they did enjoy teasing you a bit. 

Those bitches, you thought as you dragged your feet to the bar, deciding that you should just settle for getting plastered instead of getting kissed. You figured you set too high a bar for your first night of spontaneity.

"Well, that was painful to watch." 

You turned around to see a girl walking up to you. She was tall, had light brown hair that was slightly curled, framing her beautifully chiseled face. If she wasn’t so intimidatingly pretty, you would've scoffed at her statement. "Excuse me?" You blinked.

"I've been noticing your little... attempts," she gestured lazily toward the dance floor. "I mean, I respect the hustle but... wow."

You sighed, resting your head in your hands that were propped up on the counter. "You noticed all of that, huh?"

You felt her step closer to you, resting her hand on the table space beside you. "Hard not to," she said with a low, teasing voice. 

A groan escaped your mouth, feeling a bit annoyed that this girl was all up in your busInéss but you knew she was right. "I'm just... out of practice, okay?"

The bartender set the shot of tequila you just bought in front of you. You quickly got it with a curt thanks and threw it back into your mouth. The taller girl looked at you with amusement. She smiled. "Yeah, clearly."

You turned to face her again as you set the shot glass back on the counter. This time, you got a better look at her... and she was even prettier when you took the time to notice.

She was tall and incredibly beautiful. Her muscular body was evident from her cropped vest top, which gave you a sight of both her abs and her sculpted arms. There was a small smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eyes that just added a bit more of an intimidation factor on top of all that. You gulped.

"What?" The girl asked you, raising her eyebrows as she noticed you staring.

You paused. "Nothing, you just look like someone who knows how to flirt." 

She laughed. Fuck, even her laugh is hot, you thought. "What makes you think that?" She asked. 

You shrugged in response. "I don't know. You tell me."

She shrugged back, mimicking you. "I guess I do okay when it comes to flirting." Her smile grew. "Better than you did, definitely. Not that that was hard to beat.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Well, if you're so good," you dared. "Show me how."

She laughed again. "Show you?"

"Yeah, like, teach me."

She paused, taking a moment to eye you up and down. Her eyes scanned your face, then your small top, your skirt, your legs. Her gaze made you feel tense... but not in a bad way. A small shiver ran up your spine.

You bit your lip, breaking the tension that you were suddenly feeling. "Okay, I'll be honest," you said. "My cousins actually dared me to flirt with anyone, and they're paying me if I do it successfully."

She raised an eyebrow. "The two girls in the corner?" She nodded her head towards them slightly. "Yeah, they've been cackling at you the entire time."

You groaned. "Fuck, I know. Those two are my best friends... but they could be such bitches."

She laughed. "And how much is the bet?"

"200 euros," you sighed, knowing there was no way in hell you were winning that bet anymore. Could've used that money to buy new sandals, you thought to yourself sadly.

The brunette whistled lowly. "Damn. They really didn't believe in you, huh?"

"Not even a little," you shook your head. 

The girl looked at them surreptitiously before looking back at you. She paused, biting her lip as if considering something. "Okay, fine," she smirked. "Split the cash prize with me and I'll teach you."

"A hundred euros for an impromptu flirting lesson," you scoffed. "Sounds a bit steep."

She shrugged. "I think it's a fair price, given your current capabilities."

You squinted, feeling a bit annoyed with the teasing but you sighed and nodded your head. "Fine, deal."

The tall girl smiled moving closer to you. She moved her hand, touching and fiddling with the necklace on your neck with your initials on it. You were a bit startled by the sudden gesture but you stayed put.

"Physical touch is key," the girl explained as she continued to touch your necklace. "It can be as subtle as touching their shirt or their arm..."

She paused, moving her hand from your necklace, slightly grazing fingertips along the skin of your collarbones before moving to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "Or, it can be as deliberate as this."

You gulped, looking away and nodding. You never thought of being attracted to girls before but suddenly, you were feeling a bit flustered already. Fuck, she is good.

Suddenly, the girl's hand was under your chin, tilting your head gently so that you'd look at her. Once your gaze met hers, she dropped her hand gently. "Also, eye contact is key," she said. "This makes the moment more intimate."

You nodded, feeling a bit hypnotized with the sight of her hazel eyes. They sparkled so slightly under the light from the dance floor, shifting colors as the club lights danced around the space. 

Alexia smirked. "See? I'm not even touching you and you already feel connected to me, right?"

You nodded. "Okay, is that it?"

She shook her head and chuckled. "No, you gotta ask them stuff too. Make it seem like you're absolutely interested in what they're saying even if it's a bunch of nonsense," she said. "Why don't we try it out? Just say a bunch of random crap and I'll show you."

You huffed a bit but acquiesced. "Uh, I don't know? Monkeys like bananas?"

The tall girl moved in closer and suddenly, her hand was resting on the curve of your waist comfortably as if that was where they always belonged. She bit her lip as a subtle smile grew on her face. "Yeah? Where'd you learn that?"

You felt yourself grow a tad flustered at the feeling of her body almost pressed against yours, her warmth wafting on to you. "Uh," your voice came out softer than you intended. "Grade school."

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," She moved in closer to you, so close that you could smell her shampoo. "Can you say that again?"

You gulped. "Uh, school..." you repeated.

She lifted her head back to her normal position, hand still on your waist. "See?" She said with a small smirk on her face, clearly enjoying how flustered you were by her.. "I'm pretty good at this, huh."

You sighed, nodding in agreement, unable to say anything more.

"Okay, you try."

"What? Now?" You said worriedly. 

She smiled. "I mean, practice... on me."

You paused. "Okay," you agreed. Slowly, you tried following her steps. You looked down on the hand on your waist, tracing it up with your gaze before your eyes settled on the tattoos on them.

You gently rested your fingers on her arm, tracing the outline of the tattoos, staring at them to admire the detail before looking up at her to look into her eyes. "These look so good," you complimented. "Where'd you get them?"

She smiled, silently impressed by how quickly you were picking up her lesson, integrating all three of her tips into one move. "Barcelona," she responded. "I actually live there."

You nodded, hand moving to graze her biceps a bit. "Yeah? What do you do there?" You asked. "Are you a bodybuilder or something?"

She laughed at your lame attempt at a compliment but she let it slide. "I'm not remotely buff enough for that," she responded. "But I am a professional athlete. Do you like sports?”

You paused. “Well, I used to watch my brother play Fifa when we were kids.”

She laughed. “Fifa, huh? You ever played?”

“God, no.” You were starting to get comfortable. “That was more of my brother’s territory.”

She hummed, eyes scanning your face again. “Do you mind if I pull you closer? I just wanna see how much you can take without getting completely flustered.”

You nodded, a little hesitant. Just moments ago, you’ve been easing into a sense of comfort, no longer completely on edge from her presence. And now, here she was, hands firm on your waist, guiding you closer. The warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume, the way your chest was nearly flush against her body. It was overwhelming. You worried for a second that she might actually feel the rapid beat of your heart with how close you were.

Awkwardly, you rested your hands on her arms, trying to steady yourself. Sensing your nerves, she gave your sides a reassuring squeeze, snapping you out of your thoughts. You met her gaze again.

"Relax," she murmured. "Don’t overthink it. You're doing great."

You nodder, feeling flustered but encouraged at the same time. "Uh, hmm," you paused before abruptly pulling away. "Would you like a drink?"

She smirked and let you break free from her grasp. "Didn't teach you that one but... I guess you're learning pretty quickly." She complimented. "Okay, I'll let you buy me a drink.”

With the help of some cocktails, you started to grow more comfortable with her, not tensing up so much whenever she’d touch your waist or said something a bit cheeky. You learned quite a bit about each other. You mentioned you were studying law, and that she studied Business Administration for sports. Even if your conversation was quite short, you could tell that she was very passionate about football. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she talked about it. 

This woman is insanely attractive, you thought as she passionately talked about her career. Is it even possible to be this interesting and this hot?

"You think your cousins bought it?" She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You furrowed your eyebrows together. "Huh? Bought what?"

She laughed. "I mean, this whole teaching lesson. I bet that from an outsider's perspective, it definitely looks like regular flirting." She explained. "You think they bought it?"

You paused, not understanding her statement before it finally sunk in. She was "practice flirting" with you to make it appear that you were actually flirting.  "Oh!" You exclaimed. 

You took a quick glance at your cousins and just with a microsecond of a look, you could tell that they were absolutely invested with the sight of you flirting with this gorgeous woman. 

"Fuck, you might be a genius," you chuckled, shaking your head.

She laughed. "Yeah, the easiest hundred euros I've earned."

You bit your lip. "Well... about that..."

"Don't tell me it didn't work," she muttered.

"It wasn't just a flirting bet..." you trailed off, gazing away from her, feeling too awkward to say it to her face. "The dare was actually to get someone to kiss me after I flirted with them."

There was a silence between you and you were almost too sure this girl would call you a lying perv who was just trying to get kisses but when you turned to look at her, she had a lazy smirk and a half-lidded expression on her face.

 She snaked her hand around your waist again. "Well," she said, her voice low. "Let's give them a show."

Before you could even process her statement, she was leaning into you, capturing your lips with hers. In shock, you initially had your eyes open but it didn't take you long to melt into the kiss, wrapping your hands around hers as you allowed her to liplock with you, eyes slowly fluttering shut.

Normally, you'd probably push off anyone who wasn't Matt but this kiss... it felt good. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the adrenaline. But kissing this beautiful stranger felt almost as good as kissing your boyfriend. Maybe even better.

You didn't even know her but she knew exactly how to respond to your kisses. She knew to kiss you gently first before slowly intensifying the kiss. And there was also a different edge to her kiss.

Her lips were smoother. Her tongue in your mouth felt less imposing, less obscene. It felt... so natural and yet so foreign. 

When you finally broke the kiss, you were breathing heavily. You looked into the girl's eyes, flickering in between them as you held onto her arms. She smirked, but she didn't say anything.

You wanted to lean in for another kiss. Fuck, you wanted more than just a kiss.

But as soon as that thought entered your mind, you were snapped awake and it was as if all the alcohol in your system evaporated in a second. You blinked, stiffening up slightly. "Uh, I gotta go collect the bet now."

You let go of your grasp from her, feeling yourself tense up in embarrassment at the sudden intimacy with a stranger, as you rushed back to where your cousins were sat at the opposite end of the bar.

⋆˙⟡♡ "GIRL, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Cam practically barked at you as soon as you made your way to the table. "THAT GIRL WAS SMOKING FUCKING HOT. GET BACK THERE."

"But why?" You groaned. "I already won the bet and it was getting awkward..."

"It was NOT getting awkward until YOU made it awkward," Daisy scolded, shaking her head. "Did you at least get her number?"

You bit your lip. "No..."

"Ugh, okay, her instagram?"

You shook your head. "I forgot to ask her name."

Cam chuckled. "Y'know what, I'll give you that," she nodded. "Got a kiss before you got a name. Baller move."

Daisy growned. "No, Cam, don't coddle this lame behavior," she scolded. "She needs to go back there and ask that girl out on another date.”

Daisy pushed you slightly. You looked back at her and frowned, wanting to remind her that you were older than her, but you just walked on back. Besides, this girl did give you one of the best kisses of your life. You might as well give it a shot.

But as soon as you got to the bar, she was gone. If it weren't for your cousins witnessing the whole thing, you'd probably think you encountered a ghost. You looked around the area, peeking through the crowd, even asking the bartender in your broken Spanish but she was nowhere to be found.

Fuck, maybe I am an idiot

⋆˙⟡♡ You stared down at the leather sandals that your bet money got you. They sure were cute... but not as cute as that girl from the bar.

Almost a week has passed and you've visited countless clubs, attended various parties, hit all the hot spots in Ibiza and you still couldn't get the tall, brunette girl out of your head.

Something about the way she kissed you, the way it felt better than th way Matt kissed, the way she held you — it was all so good that it practically imprinted on your brain.

Your cousins teased you about it, simulating a scene from Inside Out as if they were the emotions in your head discovering a new core memory after that kiss. It was as amusing as it was annoying. You couldn't blame them. You chickened out and that was a hundred percent your fault. You sighed. At least I got slippers out of it.

"She's staring at her dumbass sandals again," Daisy rolled her eyes as she set down the smoothies you ordered on the table. "Girl, move on. You're acting more mopey about this girl than you were about Matt."

Cam got her smoothie and shrugged. "I'd rather her be hung up on the hottest woman we've ever seen in our life than the balding personification of boredom himself."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smirk at the playful insult. "I just... feel like I had a chance to explore, y'know." You explained. "Explore that flirty side of me... and I completely fumbled it."

You groaned as you grabbed your smoothie. "I can't believe I'm only now finding out I like girls and instead of that making me cooler, it's making me mopier and lamer."

Your cousins looked at you with pity. "You're acting like she's the only girl ever," Daisy commented. "You proved to yourself that you can get a girl... why not use those skills to do it again?"

Cam nodded. "Yeah, maybe Ibiza is all about getting your lesbian on." She smiled then paused. "Maybe I should get lesbian too."

Daisy laughed. "Fuck it, let's all go lesbian!" She raised her arms. "Woooh! Lesbian holiday!"

⋆˙⟡♡ The concept of lesbian holiday was abandoned soon after. Later that night, Daisy found herself making out with a tanned guy who did not speak a lick of English, and every night, Cam seemed to find some random guy who would indulge her with drunken salsa dancing. 

Meanwhile, you were the only one who actually stuck to it – not that it felt like some noble commitment. Maybe it was because you were on a break from Matt, and this was your one chance to explore something you would have never let yourself consider. Maybe you were actually bi or something and just never realized it. Either way, you took advantage of the opportunity.

With the skills that stunning girl from the club taught you, you managed to almost perfect your flirting skills. It started off rocky but after a few nights out, you were practically a different person. 

And of course, you kissed girls – femme girls, masc girls, tall girls, short girls. Ibiza never seemed to run out of beautiful women..and yet none of them came close to her. 

No matter how many lips you tasted, nothing replicated that night with the tall, stunning Catalan. You’d go through the same motions of flirting as you did that night — the eye contact, the flirtatious touching, the feigned interest in whatever the other person was saying – but it just… did not feel the same. There were a lot of girls who were probably just as interesting and just as passionate about their careers but they never really made an impact on you. 

And, sure, plenty of those girls were great kissers. But the way she kissed you… it was something else. It felt like cliff diving, like free-falling, like discovering what kissing actually should feel like.

You wondered when you could ever feel that way again.

⋆˙⟡♡ Time moved fast, and before you knew it, your wild month with your cousins had come to an end. Now, you were on a yacht, sailing toward your future sister-in-law’s luxury resort in a nearby island.

The next month seemed more your speed:  private beaches, morning yoga, spa sessions. A welcomed change from Ibiza’s chaos, especially in the no more hangovers department.

You had done what you set out to do. Your Instagram was flooded with party clips, bikini thirst traps, and blurry videos of late-night adventures. You flirted, dance, and kissed with every pretty girl that caught your eye. There was no doubt that you had stepped out of your comfort zone — travelling and partying and making out with a stranger, things you’ve never done before — but all of it felt inauthentic. 

Perhaps Matt bought the illusion. Maybe even your cousins were starting to believe it too. But you knew it was what it was: just a façade. 

But now, it felt more than just that. You were beyond proving to Matt that you could be fun. You wanted to prove to yourself that you could be a complete, full person without him, without the safety net of your boring stability. 

And sure, you had learned things about yourself over the past month, like the fact that you hated flaming shots, that you could apparently do the splits while drunk, and that... you liked girls. But it still felt like you were only scratching the surface, dipping your toes in without truly diving in.

You had just over a month left in Spain before you’d be back in your same hometown, your same apartment, your same routine. And you knew yourself. Once you were back in your bubble, it’d be too easy to shrink back into old habits, to stop exploring, to let fear keep you from changing.

Maybe this was your chance... to get to know yourself in a quieter way, away from the sloppy make-outs with strangers, body shots and neon lights. Maybe being around your family again, seeing all of them together for the first time in years, would remind you of something you’d forgotten.

Maybe, in a different way, this next month could change you just as much as the last.

⋆˙⟡♡ You settled in pretty quickly with the help of the very hands-on staff of the resort. You knew from stories and photos that your brother's fiancé was loaded but you didn't know that she was this loaded.

The staff treated you like royalty, carrying your bags and escorting you. Not to mention that the resort itself was serene and beautiful; the kind of place you knew you could never dream of affording with your own money.

"Another smoothie?" The staff at the juice bar asked. 

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. Your cousins were late again. They agreed to meet up and head to your family lunch together but of course, those two were taking their sweet time curling their hair and applying their lashes. 

You sighed and shook your head. "No, I'm good, thank you."

As you were about to dial up Daisy, someone behind you spoke up.

“Hey, don’t you owe me a hundred euros?”

You turned around, and your stomach dropped. It was her.

The girl from the bar.

After days of scanning every club, every crowd, hoping you’d run into her again, here was where you found her. And she looked even better than you remembered.

She smiled as she slid onto the stool beside you, casually ordering a smoothie like this wasn’t completely throwing your brain into disarray. Her hair was in a low bun, strands falling loose around her face, and she wore a white linen vest and matching shorts. The sunlight caught on her skin, golden and warm. She looked incredibly stunning.

You realized you were staring. “Oh my god,” you breathed before you could stop yourself.

Her smile widened, amused at your reaction. “So, should I give you my bank details, or do you have the cash on you?”

Your brain short-circuited for a second before you processed the teasing lilt in her voice. You chuckled. "Cash good?"

"I change my mind," she smiled warmly at you. "No need to pay me."

You narrowed your eyes. “Huh?”

“The sight of you in that dress is already worth a hundred euros.”

Your breath hitched. You thought that after all that flirting practice that you would be more chill about this but apparently not, not with her. Heat crawled up your neck, flushing your cheeks but you managed to roll your eyes, trying desperately to play it cool. “You really are a flirt.”

She grinned, taking a slow sip of her smoothie. “Yeah… but only with cute girls.”

You swallowed, gripping your glass a little tighter. You tried to think of something clever, something equally flirty to say back, but your brain was a static mess.

She must’ve noticed the way your confidence wavered because she let the moment linger before speaking again. She chuckled. “I really hoped that I’d see you again after that night,” she admitted, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I was so annoyed I didn’t get your number.”

Your fingers curled slightly around your glass. There was something about the way she said it – so effortlessly honest – that made your stomach flip. You exhaled, your voice quieter when you spoke, meeting her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that kiss too.”

The brunette girl chuckled, tilting her head slightly. “Hmm. Are you just practicing flirting with me?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I mean it.”

That made her smile. It didn’t look teasing or naughty. It looked genuinely, like she was relieved you’d say so.

“Yeah,” she said, watching you. “I believe you.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing the condensation off your glass with your thumb. “I feel like such a wimp,” you admitted. “Sorry, but… yeah. It was a nice kiss.”

She hummed, like she was replaying it in her mind. You looked at her, noticed the playful glint in her eyes and the curve of her smirk. God, this woman is so beautiful. 

"You’re getting better at this, though.” She leaned in closer, brushing her knees against your deliberately.

You looked back at her, confused. “At what?”

She smirked. “Flirting," she answered, her tone back to a playful tone.

Your breath caught slightly. "Hmm?"

She tilted her head, eyes scanning your face like she was committing every detail to memory. “You actually held eye contact just now," she mused, clearly amused. "Last time, you could barely look at me without turning red.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to react. "I did not turn red."

She smiled like she knew she had you exactly where she wanted. “Mmm.”

You scoffed, but the pink dusting your cheeks betrayed you. “Don't be cocky now.”

She shrugged, taking a slow slip of her smoothie. “I don’t know. I think I have a pretty solid case.” She chuckled. “But yeah, you’ve been practicing without me?”

You bit your lip, hesitating just long enough for her to catch it. Her eyebrows lifted in amusement before she pouted at you, clutching her chest in mock heartbreak. “Aww, that look just gives it away,” she sighed dramatically. “And here I thought I was special.”

You rolled your eyes, but the growing heat on your cheeks told a different story. “Hmm… I didn’t say anything.”

You hated how much she was enjoying this... and how much it made you flustered. 

She tapped her straw against the rim of her glass, watching you with the kind of interest that made your pulse stutter. “So,” she said, dragging out the word, “what brings you here? Aside from fate bringing us together as destined lovers, of course.”

A breathy laugh escaped you, shaking your head. “Well, aside from that, I’m here for a wedding.”

Her eyes lit up. “No way. I’m here for a wedding too.” She said, eyebrows furrowing together in genuine surprise.

Your gaze snapped back to hers. "You're joking."

She leaned in just a little more, a smirk playing at her lips. “Would I lie to you?”

Your heartbeat quickened. “I don’t know yet.”

She chuckled, leaning back and shaking her head. “But yeah, I am here for a wedding.” She nodded. “My friend’s getting married and they’re treating us with a mini vacation. I genuinely don’t think I can afford to stay here for more than a couple days without going bankrupt.”

You furrowed your brows as it sunk in. “Wait, so you must be Inés’ friend?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could—

“Bunny, is that you?”

You barely had a second to react before a familiar voice cut through the conversation. You turned to see your brother Xavier making his way toward you, his face lighting up.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath before standing up just in time for him to pull you into a tight hug. It had been two years since you’d last seen him, back when he visited home.

Even though Xavier was seven years older and had left home to study in Spain for college, you had always been close. Growing up, he had been more than just an older brother; he was your best friend. He was the kind of brother who was incredibly protective but also very caring. When you were little, he was the one who carried you on his back when you got too tired to walk, who stayed up with you when you were scared of the dark. He helped you with your homework, even when he was busy with his own. He was your number one person, even after you met Matt.

Although, in the past couple years, you did grow apart only. When he finished med school and got a job, he was always busy or exhausted. Your late night calls practically stopped when you entered law school too, with your own schedule becoming just as hectic. The last time you two saw each other was when your dad passed, and that has certainly been too long.

“Did you get taller?” he teased, patting your head.

You rolled your eyes and wafted his hand away. The last thing you needed was your new crush seeing you get treated like a kid by your brother. “You’re a doctor, Xavier. You know the answer is no.”

He chuckled before his eyes flickered to the brunette girl. He furrowed his eyebrows together, looking at you then looking at her. "You didn't tell me you knew Alexia?" He said with an amused tone.

You blinked and turned to face the girl who looked just as surprised as you did. "Alexia?"

Xavier nodded. "Yeah, I told you about her over call. Alexia's my best man... or, best woman? Best lady?" He corrected, chuckling. "I told you about her. She's my friend who is an absolute football superstar."

You looked at Xavier then at Alexia. You cursed yourself mentally, thinking you should have guessed it sooner. Alexia did briefly mention being a football player and being from Barcelona. And now that you were looking back, you were starting to remember Xav and Inés’ posts with their friends where you must have seen Alexia from before. After all, she did seem familiar. But maybe you were too drunk then and too nervous now to piece those two facts together.

After med school, your brother secured a job as one of the resident doctors for Barcelona FC. He mostly worked with the men's team until one of the women's team's star players got injured, and he was assigned to monitor her recovery. Xavier told you about her a bunch of times before, mostly in passing, either bragging about his friend won all these awards or talking about the women’s team. You just never really tuned into it. 

“When you told me about your sister, I thought she was a kid,” Alexia said, eyeing Xavier. “Is she really named Bunny?”

You groaned, shaking your head. “No, Xavier just calls me that because I used to chew like a rabbit when I was little.” You corrected, rubbing your elbow awkwardly as you turned to Xaviewr. "Alexia and I just met now, actually, Xavs. I recognized her maybe from one of your photos and we chatted just a bit before you got here."

Alexia cocked an eyebrow up at your made-up story. "Yeah..." She responded, going along with it without questioning you. "Your sister's shy, huh?"

Xavier ruffled your hair again much to your annoyance. “Yeah, she’s not a loud motherfucker like me.” He slung an arm around your shoulders. “Anyway, as much as I’d love for you two to hang out, I gotta take Bunny to the family lunch. Her cousins who we're supposed to pick her up ditched her.”

Alexia nodded, her expression unreadable. “Right. We’ll catch up later.”

You hesitated before following Xavier, sneaking one last glance at her. She gave you a smile and a look that you knew meant that you had some explaining to do.

⋆˙⟡♡ "My poor, sweet, angel baby," your mother cooed in an infantilizing tone as soon as you entered the restaurant. She wrapped her arms around you and took you in for a hug. 

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows. "Damn, mom, you haven't seen me in a while too but your greeting for me was way less dramatic." He feigned offense. "Favoritism much?"

Your mother pulled away and glared at your brother. "Well, you're not the one who got broken up with, right?"

Xavier blinked and the smile fell from his face. "What?"

You bit your lip. On the walk to the restaurant, you two caught up with each other — law school, his job, wedding prep — but the one thing you purposely left out was Matt.

Xavier and Matt got along pretty well. They used to go on jogs together and play video games. Another reason as to why you held onto Matt for so long was because he got along so well with your family, especially Xavier. 

You had no idea how to tell him that you and Matt were on a break. Or that you weren’t even sure if the break would ever end. You haven’t figured it out yet.

“You didn’t tell me you and Matt broke up,” Xavier said, his voice softer now as he placed a reassuring hand on your back.

Before you could respond, your mother took it upon herself to answer for you. “Oh, Xav, it’s even worse,” she sighed as she took her seat, the two of you following suit. “They’re on a break.”

Your aunties and cousins tutted their tongues in disapproval.

“It’s like relationship limbo, Xav!” your mother went on, shaking her head. “Imagine the horror of a breakup but without the certainty. It’s tragic.”

Cam seated across from you, wiped her mouth with a napkin before chiming in. “Don’t worry, Auntie. Your daughter has been managing well under Daisy’s and my care.”

Daisy nodded, grinning. “She’s moved on! Never mind that bum,” your loud-mouthed cousin exclaimed. “It’s her time to flirt and be free! You should’ve seen her in the clubs, especially our first night here when we met this gi—”

You shot her a wide-eyed look, shaking your head violently in warning. daisy hesitated before clearing her throat and turning her focus back to her salad. “Never mind,” she muttered, exaggeratedly poking at her salad. “Forget everything I said.”

Xavier let out a small chuckle but didn’t look entirely amused. “So… are you guys actually broken up?” he asked, tilting his head as he looked at you. “Like, for real?”

You exhaled sharply, picking at the napkin in your lap. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s complicated.”

Xavier hummed, nodding slowly, but his expression was tight, like something about this didn’t sit right with him. He was always the traditional family guy. Not in a homophobic way, but in the way that made him sentimental about things that felt secure, structured. He liked the idea of you and Matt. Liked that Matt was a “good influence,” someone who pushed you to be your best, just as you had for him.

And now? Now it probably looked to him like you were throwing all of that away to mess around.

⋆˙⟡♡ Xavier pulled you aside after the family lunch. Even if you managed to dodge all the questions about Matt, you knew there was no escaping your brother. He was too… doting and protective, to say the least.

You sighed, already sensing where this was going. "Xavs, if this is about—"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he cut in, arms crossed. His tone was light, but the concern was clear in his eyes. Xavier studied you carefully. "So are you…okay?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yes, Xavs. I promise."

“Okay, cause I didn’t hear much about how you’re coping with it,” He didn’t look convinced. "And it’s just that Cam was saying—"

You groaned. "Ignore Cam."

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly not satisfied with that answer, but he let it slide. "Fine. But I just want to make sure you're coping healthily. And not just doing things to hurt yourself." His gaze flickered over your face, reading you. "Or others."

That last part made your stomach flip uncomfortably. You swallowed, shifting your weight. "I’m not."

"Good," he said, but he was still watching you, like he knew there was more you weren’t saying.

You tried not to fidget. Because if he knew, if he even had the slightest clue that you had kissed Alexia, that you had a crush on his best friend… how would he even react?

You cleared your throat. "Can I go now, or do you have more of your big brother wisdom to impart?"

Xavier huffed a small laugh but didn’t move. "Just… take care of yourself, Bunny. Okay?"

⋆˙⟡♡ Later that day, the rest of the family headed to go for a by-the-beach hangout but you just felt a little too out-of-it to join. You didn’t know why but maybe the fact that your entire family was now intrigued by your break was a factor.

You loved your family but they could be overwhelming. Plus, Cam and Daisy decided to ditch the whole gathering too after meeting a couple of the scuba instructors who looked exactly like their type. You figured that without them, you’d be the target of countless inquiries from your aunts and uncles.

So, instead, you decided to hit the bar which was on the opposite side of the beach. It was quiet, save from a few of what seemed like Xavier and Inés’ friends who were drinking beers and playing beach volleyball.

As you made your way toward the bar, your eyes immediately landed on a familiar brunette. A slow smile curled your lips before you could stop it. She was turned around, sitting on one of the stools with her phone in hand. She had changed into a light blue bikini, the sheer cover-up dress doing little to hide the toned lInés of her body. You bit your lip. God, she’s so fine.

Almost like she could sense you staring, Alexia turned her head, her lips already tugging into a knowing smirk. She pushed her shades to the top of her head to get a good look at you. "You planning on saying hi, or are you just gonna stand there and check me out like a creep?" she teased, reaching for her bag and pulling it off the stool beside her, signalling for you to sit beside her.

You let out a breathy chuckle, slipping onto the seat next to her. "You just looked so busy, Alexia," you said, letting her name roll off your tongue with deliberate ease.

She arched a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Yeah, bunny?" she murmured, her voice dipping just enough to make you feel a bit tense. "You know, the way your brother used to talk about you… I would have thought you were an actual innocent little bunny."

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah, you know Xavier. He’s protective and he genuinely still thinks I’m his baby sister.”

She hummed, bringing her straw in between her lips, taking a sip of her drink and not breaking eye contact. You felt your skin heat under her gaze, your fingers instinctively tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"So, uh," you started, clearing your throat, "you never mentioned that you’re one of the most famous football players in the world."

Alexia wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "No, no," she laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm definitely not. I mean, I might be a little well-known, but Xav probably hyped me up way more than I deserve."

“Hmm, so a million instagram followers isn’t famous, huh?” You shot her an unimpressed look.  Suddenly, it was your turn to tease her. “So, that means that I must be a total nobody with my 271 followers.”

She smirked. "Oh, so you've been stalking me?"

You leaned forward, tilting your head. "If checking your Instagram counts as stalking, then yeah, whatever." You pulled out your phone, unlocking it to show her the proof. "Also, I don’t buy the whole 'I’m not that good' thing when your pinned posts are literally you holding the award that practically says Best Football Player Ever.”

Alexia pouted dramatically. "No fair. Your account is private."

You chuckled and pointed an accusatory finger. “Hmmm, sounds like someone tried to stalk me too.”

"Guilty as charged," she admitted, resting her chin on her hand. "But can you really blame me? It’s not my fault my best friend’s sister is fine as fuck.”

You bit your lip, a blush growing in your cheek. Alexia smiled, incredibly pleased by your reaction. “So, are you gonna accept my follow request or…”

You rolled your eyes, scrolling through your notifications to approve her request. “Here. Happy?”

Alexia beamed, immediately checking her phone to check out your account. She whistled lowly as she clicked on the photo you posted days ago of just your torso in a tiny, yellow bikini. She liked the photo immediately. You chuckled as you watched her scroll through more photos, liking each and every single one of them. 

You were mildly relieved that you archived all remnants of Matt from your profile or else, you’d be figured out by now.

“I think I’m your number one fan now,” Alexia teased, looking back at you before her eyes fell lower to scan your body. “Kinda a bummer you’re not wearing one of those bikinis from the photo now.”

You smacked her arm playfully. “I seriously don’t know if you’re messing with me–”

“I’m not,” She cut you off. You looked to meet her eyes and while she had a playful smile, her eyes looked warm and sincere. “I genuinely think you’re cute. I’m not just teasing you.”

You paused before nodding, averting your gaze. Fuck, she’s so charming. I actually don’t even know how to respond to this. “Hmm,” you said before turning your head back to look at you. “You better not let Xav hear that though.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and let out a weak chuckle. “Xavier?”

“Yeah, you know him, he still acts like I’m his baby sister.” You said, purposely leaving out the fact that that main reason why you didn’t want him finding out was because your brother had just warned you earlier that day about messing around while on a break with Matt. “He’s just… protective. Last thing I need is him breathing down my neck the entire trip."

Alexia hummed, dragging her straw through her drink before glancing at you. "Well," she said after a pause, "that’s a bummer."

You tilted your head inquisitively. She smiled. "I was gonna ask him if it was okay to take his younger sister out on a date."

You blinked, brain short-circuiting “Oh… what?”

Alexia let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Well, if you don’t wanna go out with me since I’m your brother’s friend and all—"

"No!" you blurted, a little too loudly. You clamped your mouth shut, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. "I mean… no, I do wanna go out with you."

Alexia’s smile fully grew. “Good, cause that would’ve sucked if you said no.”

You smiled. “But… you gotta keep this from my brother, for now. He’s just extra tense about the wedding and he can be such a… bridezilla.” Alexia chuckled at your description, knowing fully well how much of a control freak Xavier was when it came to the wedding. You continued. “So, we can’t let him know… just for now. After the wedding, I’m sure he’ll cool off.”

Alexia nodded, understanding. “Okay, then that will make this more interesting.”

You forced a casual smile, relieved that she had bought your excuse. If she thought Xavier’s overprotectiveness was the only reason you wanted to keep this a secret, that was fine by you. You had a good feeling about the date, even with the circumstances. And surely, there was no way things would go wrong over just one date.

…Right?

⋆˙⟡♡ When Alexia said that she would pick you up from your hotel room at 5 in the morning, you didn’t know what to think or expect of that date. What was more intriguing was that she asked you to wear a swimsuit under your clothes. 

What kind of date is she taking me on? You thought to yourself, yawning as you put on a short, beachy dress on top of your bikini. Are we going to the Little Mermaid’s restaurant or something?

Tote bag in hand, you headed to the port where you agreed to meet Alexia. Your lips turned up to a smile when you saw her standing there in denim shorts and a crocheted white top. “We’re lowkey coordinating our outfits,” you remarked as you walked to her.

She chuckled. “You look stunning.”

A blush crept up your cheeks. "Yeah?" You bit your lip, glancing between her and the sleek boat behind her. "So… why are we here?"

She gestured to the fancy-looking boat behind her. “You mentioned yesterday that you haven’t seen much of the non-tourist sights in Ibiza when you were there with your cousins,” she said. “So, I figured we’d hitchhike on the bride’s boat going there.”

“What?” You said, unable to process what she just said.

"Inés’ bridal team has to pick up a few things in Ibiza, so I pulled some strings and got us on board." She gave a little shrug, like it was no big deal. "Hope you’re not prone to seasickness, because I kinda had the staff prepare breakfast for us too. Called in a special favor from Inés."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, she knows?"

Alexia chuckled. "Relax. I didn’t tell her about my secret date with her future sister-in-law." She shot you a wink before holding out her hand. "But we gotta hurry. I wouldn’t want us to miss any part of our itinerary today." 

You let her take your hand, heart skipping a beat, and let her lead you into the boat.

⋆˙⟡♡ The boat was spacious, the sea breeze light and refreshing as Alexia led you to a seating area with a cushioned booth and a small table. Waiting for you was a basket of empanadas and carafes of juice.

You slid into the seat beside her, eyeing the pastries curiously. "I’ve never actually had an empanada before."

Alexia’s head snapped toward you so fast you almost laughed. "Huh? No way. You’ve never had one?"

You shook your head, amused at how scandalized she looked. She grabbed a plate and served one for you. "That’s insane. Inés makes really good ones too. She usually makes some whenever I visit." She shared. “These ones are prepared by the hotel staff though.”

You took a small bite, eyes widening as you bit into the buttery pastry, humming with satisfaction. "Fuck, where has this been all my life?"

Alexia grinned. "Told you. You’ve been missing out."

You wiped a few crumbs from your lips, leaning back. "Story of my life," you muttered, more to yourself than anything.

She raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated before shrugging. "I’ve never been to Spain before. Actually… I don’t really travel at all."

Alexia looked surprised. "Really? That’s the total opposite of your brother. He’s been everywhere."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Yeah, well, Xavier always was the more adventurous one. I mean, I’ve always wanted to do the same but I guess, life just always got in the way…" You trailed off, leaving out the real reason: how much of that was because of your ex. How you turned down trips, stayed behind, convinced yourself that you didn’t need to see the world because love was enough.

And now that it was over, you were realizing just how much you had missed.

Alexia studied you for a moment, then nodded, looking out at the ocean. "I travel a lot for work, but nothing ever compares to Barcelona. That’s home." She glanced at you. "Maybe it’s the same for you? Love for your hometown?"

You exhaled, shaking your head. "No," you admitted. "I think I just didn’t know what I was missing out on."

She smiled, something warm and knowing in her gaze. "Well, then that’s more reason for me to show you a good time today.”

The moment stretched between you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken. Then, with a playful nudge, she gestured to the table. "Come on, cariño. Eat more of the empanadas before they get too cold."

⋆˙⟡♡ "I don’t know about this," you said, watching as Alexia swung a leg over the Vespa with effortless ease. You held the helmet between your hands, feeling iffy about getting on the motorcycle. “I’ve never really ridden a motorcycle.”

Alexia chuckled and gave you a playful look. “Come on, trust me.”

You hesitated, gripping the helmet a little tighter. The idea of speeding through unfamiliar streets made your stomach twist. But then you thought about what you had just been saying. You wanted to experience more, to stop holding yourself back. And here was your chance.

You met Alexia’s gaze, and even though you barely knew her, something about her made you feel safe. You exhaled, put the helmet on, and climbed onto the Vespa behind her.

She smiled, adjusting her grip on the handlebars. "Hold on, cariño."

As soon as the Vespa took off, your hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, unsure. But when the wind picked up and the city blurred past you, your instincts took over. Your grip on her waist tightened, and Alexia let out a quiet chuckle. You felt her laughter through your chest, warm and steady.

At first, the speed made your heart race. It felt even more frightening than a rollercoaster. As much as Alexia liked how close you were, clinging onto her for dear life, she felt like she was going to suffocate with how tightly you were hugging her waist. “Cariño, relax. I won’t be reckless, I promise.”

You took a deep breath before loosening up, hands still around Alexia. You straightened your back a bit before looking around, taking in the views around you. 

Alexia slowed the bike as you neared the farmer’s market. “Still full from the empanadas, cariño?” she called over her shoulder, her voice rising above the hum of the cars and the market’s chatter.

You looked at the farmer’s market and immediately spotted a booth that sold fresh smoothies. You could practically feel your mouth water at the sight of the seller slicing strawberries. “Never too full for a farmer’s market.”

Alexia laughed, pulling the bike to the side and parking it. She hopped off first, offering her hand to help you down. You hesitated, your heart picking up pace as she held your hand, guiding you gently as you dismounted.

A warm blush crept up your neck as she turned to you with a playful smile. “You don’t have to take my hand if you don’t want to,” she said, her tone softening. “I just don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

You glanced at the market. There weren’t even that many people. Sure, it was busy but you doubted you’d lose her that easily. Still, you played along, taking her hand in first, allowing her to fit her fingers in between yours. The warmth of her skin emanated against yours, causing your blush to grow.

“So, what do you want to try?” Alexia said as she led the way.

You hummed, looking around. “I kinda want a smoothie but maybe we should go around first? See what else they have to offer?”

Alexia nodded, agreeing, keeping you close and not letting your hand go as you two weaved through the stalls. The two of you tried some cheese, cured meat, bread, and a lot of other goods, humming in delight as you indulged in the free samples. Alexia seemed incredibly intrigued by cherry wine, even taking note of the name of the seller to buy from them later on. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed, though. Everywhere you looked, there were tempting options. What to eat? What to drink? The variety was endless, and you didn’t want to fill up on something just to find something even better a little further down the path. As you were lost in thought, your eyes landed on an ice cream stall. The warm afternoon sun was starting to set in, and suddenly, the idea of a cold treat felt like the perfect answer.

Alexia noticed your lingering gaze at the stall, chuckling a bit. “Never thought you’d have a sweet tooth,” she commented. “Want to get some?”

You nodded shyly, feeling caught staring longingly at the ice cream. She smiled back at you, hand still entangled with yours, leading the way once more and taking you there. The stall owner, a small tan lady with short curly hair, gasped as you two approached their booth. 

“La reina! En persona!” The woman gushed, clearly starstruck by Alexia.

“Ah, sí, sí,” she said, offering a warm handshake with her free hand. The vendor practically shook with giddInéss as she continued speaking quickly in Spanish, her words tumbling out as she gushed about how amazing it was to meet Alexia in person.

You stood there awkwardly, trying to follow the conversation, but your Spanish was rough at best. You caught a few words — novia and guapa —and your cheeks instantly heated up. You bit your lip as you felt your face grow warmer, gaze falling to your feet. 

You only looked up again when Alexia squeezed your hand, eyes fixed on you with a soft expression. She gave you a small smile before looking back at the lady. “No, aún no…” She responded in Spanish but continued in English. “But who knows? Maybe soon?”

The vendor yelped out, giggling like a schoolgirl as she bounced on her feet, speaking in fast Spanish that you could barely catch a word of. But her body language and the way she teasingly pointed at Alexia then at you told you all you needed to know. Alexia just chuckled as she watched you blush even more.

“Okay, now, what flavor do you want?” She asked you. 

You almost forgot about the ice cream because of the exchange. You looked inside the display to see huge containers with simple labels, all in Spanish. 

You blinked, momentarily forgetting about the ice cream, your mind still stuck on the exchange. When you finally looked at the display, you saw a bunch of large containers with simple labels, all in Spanish. You hummed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I have no clue. They all look so good.”

Alexia chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Would you mind if I chose for you?”

You  shook your head, not needing to think twice. “I’d prefer it either way,” you admitted with a shy smile.

Alexia continued talking to the vendor, and you watched the lady scoop generous amounts of ice cream into your cones. When it was time to pay, the lady was insisting that Alexia not pay, practically forcing Alexia’s money back to her pocket; the whole sight made you laugh. Alexia finally agreed not to pay but while the vendor’s guard was down, she slipped her money into the tip jar, throwing a cheeky wink at the lady.

“Okay, ice cream time,” Alexia said, smiling wide as she held up the cones slightly. “Fuck, these are heavy. I think she wants to give us a toothache.”

You chuckled and glanced at the flavors Alexia had picked. “Which one’s mine?” you asked, a little unsure.

“The strawberry and balsamic one,” Alexia replied, her smile widening as she nodded towards the cone in your hand. “I saw you practically lusting after those strawberries earlier, so I thought you might like this one.”

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Strawberries with balsamic… vinegar?” you said, voice cautious, not quite sure what to expect.

She laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Trust me, it sounds crazy, but it’s perfect. You’ll see.”

“Hmm, and what did you get?” You looked at her cone. “Looks like chocolate.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I got a basic flavor just in case you don’t like yours so we can switch.”

You couldn’t help but feel even more drawn to Alexia and the date had barely begun. She was just so unbelievably thoughtful, remembering you mentioning the strawberries from earlier, noticing you looking at the ice cream stall, even picking a flavor you would have never chosen for yourself. She just felt so confident about you liking it but still making sure to have a back-up plan in case you didn’t. It may have seemed like such a small thing but it said a lot about her to you.

Suddenly, you were thinking about Matt. You two were together for years and yet he had not ever displayed the same level of thoughtfulness as Alexia had, and you practically only just met Alexia.

Feeling a drop of ice cream reach your knuckles, you hurriedly licked up the drips on the side of the cone. A hum escaped your lips as you tasted the ice cream, eagerly eating more of it. Alexia smiled as she watched you, a soft gleam of pride in her eyes. “See, I knew you’d like it,” she said with a warm tone. 

“Mmm, s’good…” you said, having more of it. You paused, looking at her before offering. “Do you want to try some?”

She paused for a moment, looking at your face as if to study you before simply leaning in. You gently moved the cone towards her lips, watching as she took a delicate lick of the ice cream. It wasn’t seductive or sexual but something about it made your heart beat faster. You bit your lip as you watched her lift her head, lick her lips and nod approvingly. 

Alexia noticed your look, the redness of your cheeks, the way you were biting your lip and the bashful look in your eyes. She was about to tease you but before she could even say anything, you could hear the vendor giggling, a few meters away. The two of you turned to look at her and she just have you two a playful air swat and a head shake from behind her booth. 

“Looks like we got our first fan,” Alexia teased.

⋆˙⟡♡ After roaming a bit more around the stalls, you finally made your way back to the motorcycle. Alexia revved the engine, and you slipped on your helmet, even if you had been on the motorcycle early today, a part of you still felt nervous getting on it.

You asked as you two took the road, feeling the warmth of the noon sun against your shoulders. “Where are we off to?” you asked loudly, above the sound of the cars beside you.

Alexia kept her eyes on the road ahead. “It’s not too far,” she said. “You’ll know when you see it.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling yourself get a bit nervous. You weren’t someone who had ever done this kind of thing: travelling abroad with beautiful women, riding a motorcycle, allowing said woman to decide your fate for the day, taking you to places you have never even heard of before. It was all new to you. 

And yet, despite the nerve-racking uncertainty, there was this other new feeling bubbling up inside you. Excitement. It was the kind of excitement you never really knew you were capable of feeling. It wasn’t the excitement you’ve known, like the kind of excitement you got for birthdays, going to Disneyland, or prom. It felt much bigger than that.

Alexia shifted slightly, adjusting her grip on the handlebars, her posture relaxed. She didn’t seem nervous at all. 

The engine revved again, and Alexia’s voice broke through your thoughts, a little louder now to cut through the wind. “Hold on tight, cariño,” she shouted over her shoulder, giving you just enough time to adjust your grip on her before she sped up, zooming up the inclined road.

You yelped as you felt the speed, holding on tighter to Alexia. You could feel Alexia’s body vibrate with laughter, clearly amused by your vaguely frightened screams. Normally, you’d be a bit embarrassed holding onto someone like this but you were too anxious to care; you weren’t going to risk falling off and cracking your head.

“Relax, cariño,” Alexia teased, her voice cutting through the rush of wind. “You’re safe with me.”

And just like that, suddenly, you felt your body loosen up a bit, becoming more relaxed. You straightened up a bit, hands still wrapped around Alexia. Now that you calmed, you could finally appreciate the wind, the sight of the trees you passed, the sight of the ocean just peeking past the trees. It was beautiful.

You still had no idea where you and Alexia were heading but if this was the journey towards it, the destination must have been out-of-this-world.

⋆˙⟡♡ “There is no way in hell that I am jumping off of that, Alexia!” 

The Cataln laughed at you, gesturing with her hand for you to come over. “Come on, it’s really fun, I swear.” She urged with a wide smle. “Besides, we’re not jumping off here. We’ll take a few more steps down there and jump off that cliff.”

She pointed at a cliff that was significantly lower than the one you first encountered during your hike up from where you two parked. You sighed deeply, contemplating whether or not you would still go with it. On one hand, the thought of jumping off was already making your knees shake and your hands clammy. On the other, the hike up here was already enough to knock the wind out of your lungs… and you did say that you wanted to be more adventurous.

“If you don’t want to, we can just hike back down to the motorcycle,” Alexia offered with a shrug, seemingly unaffected by the walk up. “It’s no problem.”

“No problem for you, you’re literally a world-class athlete.” You joked, shaking your head. You took a deep breath and peeked once more at the cliff Alexia was pointing too. The jump did not seem that high. The water seemed calm too. “How many feet is that?”

Alexia paused, looking over to the cliff. “Uh, I don’t know in feet but maybe a little over 3 meters?” She responded. “It’s gonna be fun, I promise.”

“If you’re nervous, I can go first, break the surface tension a bit. That will make it easier for you to jump in after me, soften the impact.” Alexia offered, sticking her hand out to you for you to take. “We can also swim back to where we parked from down there.”

The sun beat down, making the idea of jumping and swimming in the cool ocean pretty tempting. You bit your lip, then carefully took her hand, nodding. Alexia smiled warmly and led the way down toward the smaller cliff.

Alexia went first on the way to the cliff, carefully making her way downthe rocks that were conveniently shaped like steps. You took a deep breath as you used one hand to hold on to the rocks and the other to grip Alexia’s arm tightly as you stepped down. Finally, you were on the lower cliff and being closer to the sea, you could hear the soft sounds of the waves beneath you.

You looked over at Alexia who was now taking off her clothes to reveal a small white bikini underneath and suddenly, the nerves were replaced by a flustered feeling. There is no way that I’ll ever get used to seeing her body, you thought to yourself.

She caught you staring and laughed. “I know I look good, but you’re going to have to change into your bikini too,” she teased. “Swimming in those clothes would be way harder.”

You nodded. “But where do we put everything?”

Alexia held up a black bag. “I brought a waterproof bag for exactly that.” She grinned. “Just toss your shoes and clothes in here.”

Feeling a little shy, you slowly peeled off your clothes. The hard rock under your feet made you wince as you slipped off your shoes. You stepped closer, reaching over Alexia to place your things in the bag.

She watched you with a smirk, her eyes lingering appreciatively on your body before letting out a low whistle. You swatted her arm playfully. “No teasing,” you warned.

She chuckled softly. “I’m not teasing. I’m just saying you look great.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Says you?”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. “You haven’t said anything yet.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Okay, fine. I think you look… sexy.” Your cheeks warmed as you admitted it.

Alexia laughed, clapping her hands together before rubbing them in excitement. “Gracias, cariño. Now, are you ready? I’ll show you how to jump without hurting yourself.”

“You’re telling me it’s going to hurt?”

She rolled her eyes, laughing again. “No! I said I’m going to show you how not to get hurt.”

She explained patiently, “Just step off the cliff and keep your legs straight and together. Don’t bend your knees or else, it’s gonna hurt a bit more when you hit the water…” She continued to explain, enacting how your position should be once you do jump. “Did you get that?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the nerves kick in. Never in your life would you have thought you’d end up where you were now: standing on a cliff in Ibiza, having a beautiful Catalan woman teach you how to jump off of it. The most daring thing you ever did in past dates was maybe eat deepfried frog legs in a state fair.

You looked over to Alexia who was walking to the edge, tightening her ponytail as she did. “I’ll go first just to show you how not scary it is.” She said, looking back at you. She smiled at your worried expression, finding it adorable you seemed with your hands grasping each other, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come closer, just to get a feel of it.”

You stepped cautiously as if every next step would cause the cliff to crumble. You took a sharp inhale, feeling the wind blow against your hair and trying hard not to focus on the sound of the ocean beneath you.

“I usually throw my bag or a rock first to break the surface tension,” you turned to Alexia who suddenly chuckled a large rock into the water, followed by the waterproof bag with both of your stuff in it . “Then as soon as I feel confident, I just jump.”

“You just do it?” You swallowed.

Alexia chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s easy.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit challenged. “Just watch me,” she said with a wink but before you could even react, Alexia stepped forward and jumped off.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. “Oh my god!” You exclaimed as you looked over the cliff. Before you could even realize it, Alexia was already down there, swimming up to the surface.

She flashed you a smile and shouted. “Come! The water is warm!” She swam backwards, allowing you ample space to comfortably jump into. “Just don’t think about it.”

The normal you would have backed out. You would normally think about the potential consequences — injury, drowning, scraping against a rock or whatever. But the reason you came to Spain was not to be the old you. 

It was to be spontaneous, to actually live the only life you have — something that you have not done in the past couple decades you existed. 

It was time to just let go.

And just like that, you stepped off.

The feeling was nothing like you have ever felt before; it was exhilarating, overwhelming, amazing. It only lasted a couple seconds before you felt your body crash against the water.

Then it felt like silence. Just being enveloped by the silence of the ocean. You slowly swam to the surface, quickly being met by Alexia who swam towards you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked as she threaded above the waves with the waterproof bag floating behind her.

You could not contain your laughs. “Oh my god!” You exclaimed. “I wish I could do that again.”

She laughed. “I told you it was fun,” she responded, now mirroring your enthusiasm. “We can go again, if you want!”

“Hell yeah, I wanna go!” 

⋆˙⟡♡ The waterproof bag Alexia brought along turned out to be a little less waterproof than you thought. Water somehow got into the bag and drenched most of your clothes, including your towels.

So, Alexia and you figured that it was best to lounge on the beach for a while and let the sun dry you. 

Alexia laid out her damp towel beside yours on the shore, signalling you to sit down as she ran over to a nearby shop to buy you two some bottled water. You dropped your bag on the spot beside the towel and sat down, immediately massaging your sore calves.

The adrenaline somehow got you to climb up that hill real fast multiple times before jumping off. At the time, you didn’t feel tired or strained due to the adrenaline from all the cliff jumping but now your calves were killing you.

But even if your legs hurt like hell and your arms felt like jelly from all the swimming and threading, you didn’t regret it a single bit.

It felt exhilarating, like nothing you felt before, like you were finally living. You came to Ibiza, wanting to show Matt that you could be fun. But now that you were actually having fun, doing things you never thought you’d do, he didn’t even enter your mind once while you were running up that hill or when you were jumping off or swimming back to the shore. He was pretty much forgotten.

It wasn’t even just because of Alexia. Sure, you loved your date so far and ever since you met her, you’ve practically felt infatuation like never before but the biggest part of being able to forget and move on from Matt so quickly was discovering what you've been missing out on. It felt like you were living life for the first time.

You looked over your shoulder to see Alexia returning back, a large liter of water in hand, bikini-clad body still damp and hair dripping wet, looking a shade darker now that it was wet. You smiled at her.

“They didn’t accept cards and I only had a couple euros on hand,” she said, handing you the large water bottle. “Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

You chuckled, opening the bottled water as she sat beside you on the towel, moving close to you, stretching her legs on to the sand. “Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know, indirect kissing or whatever,” she said with a lilt to her voice. “Maybe you’re the type to care about that.”

You chuckled, feeling more at ease with Alexia after the cliff jumping. You couldn’t help but think that she was beyond clever for planning all that to get you to be more at ease and open to her. Something about jumping and adrenaline, you thought.

“Why would I mind an indirect kiss when I’ve already kissed you?” You retorted before drinking from the bottle.

She chuckled. “I don’t know. You might run off again.”

You nearly choked on the water as you chuckled. You shook your head. “Hey, not everyone can be like Alexia, the expert flirter.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Expert flirter?” She laughed.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, exactly. It was so intimidating flirting with you for the first time. It was intense.” You opened up. “I’m honestly still a little bit intimidated by you, actually.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What? Why?”

You averted your gaze, handing the bottle for her to drink from it next. “I don’t know. You’re older, and apparently, a really famous footballer.” You started, pausing before looking back at her. “Doesn’t help that you’re actually so stunning, especially in that bikini.”

Her lips turned into a smirk. “Hmm, and I’m the expert flirter, huh?”

You chuckled and nodded. 

“I still don’t get it,” she said.

“What?”

“How you sucked so much at flirting when you look like that,” she responded, tone vaguely serious. “Don’t you ever flirt back home?”

You sighed, chewing on your lip, contemplating on whether or not you’d tell her about Matt. “Uh,” you paused, fidgeting with the sand beneath you. “I haven’t actually flirted much. Barely at all before I came here.”

It wasn’t the exact truth but it wasn’t a lie either. 

“I was in a really long term relationship,” you said, opening up just a bit more. “And, well, we broke up.”

“Oh, when?”

You paused. “A year ago.” You didn’t know why you lied but it just came out of your mouth. It felt like it would have been too awkward to correct it but also, it felt wrong that you were lying. 

She nodded. “Not so long ago,” she commented, face turning more serious. “Why’d you break up?”

You paused. “Uh, the feelings weren’t there anymore.” You paused, absentmindedly drawing patterns on the water bottle’s condensation. “Now, that I’m here. I’m starting to question if they were ever there in the first place. Part of me just feels like I settled because I felt comfortable.”

You looked over to Alexia and she had her eyes fixated on you, listening intently. You continued. “It was always stable, calm… stagnant. I don’t think I ever felt strong emotions during the relationship. I thought it was a good thing because that meant we barely ever fought but really, there just wasn’t any passion either.”

“Looking back, I feel like I was just staying because I thought that all relationships just… felt like that.” You sighed. “It felt like mechanically going through milestones together and I guess, eventually, we both just realized we were done living like that.”

“It was mutual?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

“Yeah.” Another lie. Well, partially. 

Because you figured that even if Matt was the one who initiated the break, you figured that you’d want to be the one to put the last nail on that coffin, completely turning that break into a definite break-up.

The two of you fell silent. Alexia seemed to not know what to say after you had openly talked about your past relationship. You didn’t mind it; there was really nothing more to say. You were just glad that you partially told her about your situation.

You grabbed your phone, thinking about shooting Matt a quick ‘let’s talk’ text but as you tried to open it, you realized that the battery was drained.

Alexia noticed. “Oh no, the sun must have gotten to it.” She said, “My phone battery always drains quicker whenever I leave it out under the sun. I should have warned you.”

You sighed but returned it back to the bag. “No problem, that just means you have to keep me entertained.”

Alexia smirked. “Yeah, want me to entertain you now?” She said moving closer to you, reaching over to tuck hair behind your ear, making you blush. 

Your eyes flickered to her lips involuntarily but you just chuckled, feeling a bit too shy to initiate a kiss “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

She smiled as she leaned back, resting her weight on her propped-up arms. “What do you wanna know?”

“Hmm… you take a lot of girls cliff diving?”

She laughed at your question. “No, no,” she responded, shaking her head. “It’s my first time doing this cliff diving date.”

“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” 

“I’m serious. Even ask Xavier,” she responded. “I haven’t gone on a date in months. I just never have the time.”

You nodded, understandingly. Of course, a footballer like her with her popularity would be busy. But you still couldn't comprehend how someone as stunning as her would be single. “So, when was your last relationship?”

“A year ago too,” she responded. “It was a pretty long relationship too – almost a couple years, I think? She ended things when she realized she was scared of commitment. That… honestly fucked me up for a while. Gave me trust issues.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling the guilt spread through your body. “Yeah? Why?”

She sighed. “Well, she lied to me.” She shrugged, seemingly unaffected by it. “She broke up with me, said she was scared of committing but then a month later, she was dating someone else. Some guy she knew back from college. Just felt like a major backstab.”

She sighed before looking at you again with a weak smile. “They’re engaged now.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” you responded. “I feel bad for asking.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m over it.” She shrugged, before moving over closer to you. “Besides, I’m kinda dating this hot girl right now.”

She bit her lip as she leaned closer. A blush crept across your cheeks, feeling your heart flutter as she did. “Yeah?” It was all you could muster to say. She just had the crazy ability to make you feel too stupid to say anything.

“Great kisser too,” Her eyes were practically fixated on your lips now, zeroed in on them. Even if you already shared that kiss at the club, you still felt incredibly on edge with her being so close. Perhaps it was the lack of alcohol or maybe it was the fact that you were even more attracted to her now.

Alexia’s lips curled into a small smirk. “The only problem is that she's a bit of an overthinker at times.”

You bit your lip, feeling called out.

“I don’t mind though. I can help her with that,” She said in a lower tone as she moved her hand to cup your face as she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers. 

All your muscles unclenched and all your thoughts just fizzled away. Suddenly, all you could focus on was her lips on yours. It started off slow, tentative as if she was testing out the waters before her hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss as soon as she felt you reciprocate.

You wrapped your arms around Alexia, pulling her in close as you tangled your fingers into her hair. 

God, I could do this all day.

⋆˙⟡♡ While your clothes had mostly dried, they still weren’t completely comfortable to wear. They’d also taken on a weird, musty scent from not being able to dry properly. And, every step made you wince a little, with the damp fabric clinging to your skin in all the wrong places. It was just not an ideal situation.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore,” you groaned loudly, tugging at the moist fabric of your clothes which had begun to cling awkwardly to your body. “This feels like wearing a cold rag.”

Alexia, equally uncomfortable, gave you a half-laugh, half-groan. “Remind me to never trust those ‘waterproof’ bags again.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Let’s head over to those souvenir shops, pretty sure they’d have something decent. Just pick out whatever you want. I’ll pay.”

With that mutual agreement, the two of you wandered through the line of souvenir shops near the boardwalk. Most of the stores were packed with overpriced towels and tacky magnets… exactly what you'd expect from tourist trap shops. But tucked between all the novelty junk were racks of clothes. Mostly polyester shirts with tacky designs or corny phrases, and mostly overpriced… but at least, they were dry. That was all you needed.

You grinned as your eyes landed on a rack filled with bootleg football kits. You pulled out a clearly fake Spanish national team shirt with the logo slightly wonky and the color being a tad brighter than the original. 

“Would you be mad if I got one of these?” you asked, holding it up with a small smirk on your face. 

Alexia averted her attention from the rack of beachy, button-up shirts and looked over, immediately laughing. “Mad? No. But if you seriously want one, I’ve got like, a dozen at home. All legit. All worn in actual matches.” She said with a small shrug. “If I sign it, you might even get a couple hundred euros off of it.”

You chuckled and looked back at the dupe in your hands. “If you sign this, I bet it would fetch me five euros at least.” You joked before returning it back to the rack. As you hung it back, something caught your eye: a white jersey with golden details. 

“Okay, I’ve made my decision,” you announced, feigning innocence. “I really like this one. It’s got that classic, retro charm.”

Alexia barely glanced up at first, focused on looking at a rack of overpriced crocheted tops. “Yeah? Which one?”

You turned slightly as you held the shirt, keeping the logo out of view, but letting her catch just enough of the white fabric. “It’s cute, right? The crown on the logo makes it look regal.”

Her attention snapped fully to you now, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Wait… show me the front.”

You bit your lip to suppress your smile and slowly lifted the hanger up, revealing the shirt in all its glory. A Real Madrid jersey.

The effect was instant. Alexia shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows as she walked over to you.  “Ay, por favor, not that.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “What? It’s a nice shirt,” you said, looking back at it to pretend like you’re analyzing the details. “I mean, white goes with everything.”

She strode over and plucked it from your hands. “Absolutely not, you can pick anything else. Not this.”

“What?” you said, letting your voice rise with exaggerated hurt. “You said I could choose whatever I wanted!”

“I obviously didn’t think you’d pick that when I said it,” she said, hanging the jersey back on the rack. “I’ll buy you the Spanish knock-off instead. Dios mio, I’ll buy you all these ugly dupes before I buy that one.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and you laughed at her reaction. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you.” 

Alexia looked at you and shook her head slowly. “Oh, I can’t believe you,” she said with a tone of slight annoyance and amusement. “You’re just like Xavier, always messing with me.”

She reached over, pinching your cheek. “If you weren’t so cute, I would have been annoyed.” She teased. 

You shrugged and gave her a cheeky grin.

Alexia chuckled before taking your hand in hers. “Come on, I think I saw the perfect dress for you inside anyway.” She said, flashing you a playful smile. “Let’s get away from these ugly kits.” 

You beamed, comfortably settling your fingers into hers. 

⋆˙⟡♡ “This is just ridiculous,” you said as you looked at yourself in the mirror, clad in a white shirt-dress which had the illustration of a cartoon body with comically large boobs, an impossibly tiny waist, and huge hips. It supposedly gave the illusion of you having the body of a sexy cartoon lady.

Alexia exited the dressing room, wearing virtually the same thing except the cartoon body on hers was wearing a yellow bikini while yours was wearing a pink bikini. “It’s so stupid but I love it.”

You laughed at the sight of the two of you in the mirror. “What if a fan spots you and you’re wearing this horrendous shirt?”

She shrugged. “A real fan would embrace me for who I am — huge cartoon tits and all.” She joked, making you laugh. 

“Come on, let’s pay for it so we can get dinner sooner. I’m so hungry from all the swimming.”

⋆˙⟡♡ Originally, Alexia planned for the two of you to check out a more upscale bistro nearer the city center but you two eventually figured that you would rather spend more time together by the beach. 

Besides, you were pretty certain that the restaurant manager would not be pleased if you two showed up dressed in shirt-dresses that had big-breasted cartoon bodies on them.

So, instead, you settled for one of the restobar with an outdoor area by the boardwalk. The place also had a band playing some older songs, mostly in Spanish. Alexia and you sat side-by-side, angled toward the band and the ocean.

She took a slow swig of her beer, pausing before turning to face you. “So,” she began, “if you would give this date a score, what would you give me?”

Confused, you looked over to her. “A score?”

“Yeah, like a grade or a rating. Out of 100.” She grinned.

You chuckled lightly and took a bite of your sandwich as you thought it over. “That’s rough,” you commented, wiping some of the sauce off of the corner of your mouth. “I think… maybe an 89? Or an 87?”

Alexia gave you a crooked smile, lifting her eyebrows. “Not bad, I guess.” She said, nodding. “Why not 100?”

You let out a laugh. “Well, I have to leave some room for improvement, right? You might just end up outdoing yourself next time.”

Suddenly, the Catalan perked up, straightening her posture and eyes suddenly wide and bright. She was like a puppy who just saw a tennis ball. “Next time?” She repeated, practically beaming. “So you do wanna go on more dates with me, huh?”

You chuckled at her reaction. “Well, duh,” you shrugged. “I’ve got a huge crush on you and this has been the best date of my life. Of course, I want more of you.”

Her brow arched, lips curling into a playful smirk. “You want more of me?”

You playfully smacked her on the arm as you rolled your eyes. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Alexia laughed at your playful smack. She flashed you a genuine, warm smile and the way her eyes just sparkled as they gazed into yours… it was insane how much this woman made your heart beat so fast.

“Yeah, uh, I do wanna go out with you more,” you said, your voice quieter now, looking down at your sandwich awkwardly.

Her smile widened and her cheeks grew red. She looked almost flustered which was something you didn’t see much. She always was the more confident, bold one but now she was red in the cheeks and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Guess I gotta plan on some more dates then,” She said, locking eyes with you again.

⋆˙⟡♡ After you shared another drink, Alexia and you decided it was time to rush back to the dock to make the boat back to the island. The staff had prepared blankets just in case the cold sea wind nipped at your skin but you two opted to share one inside, sitting impossibly close as you draped the smooth blanket on top of you two, feet flirtatiously grazing each other beneath it.

You went back to your room almost with a pep in your step. If life was like a classic cartoon, you felt like you would have floated back to your room on a cloud with hearts in your eyes. You kicked off your shoes, humming the same song from the bar as you padded toward the bathroom.

You blushed as you rinsed off the saltwater and sweat from the day, smiling like a fool as you towel-dried your hair. You couldn’t stop grinning. You replayed everything as you took a bath and brushed your teeth. 

After you finished getting ready for bed, you sank onto the edge of your hotel bed, still feeling warm and giddy, now wrapped up in the hotel robe. You reached over for your phone, which you finally were able to charge after leaving it drained all afternoon, and finally lit up the screen.

Your smile faded almost instantly.

The screen was bombarded with text notifications… from Matt.

The first message startled you — an “I miss you” — and saw another one that started with “I know it’s late but…”

That was enough for you to toss the phone to the far edge of the bed, not wanting to deal with that mess right now. You rubbed your hands down your face and flopped backward, hair still slightly damp against the pillow.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, exhaling hard. After your wonderful date with this girl who just made you feel things you never ever felt all those years with Matt, you just didn’t want to deal with drama right now. You weren’t going to let Matt ruin this feeling. Not after you’re realizing how much you’ve missed out, and how much you’ve realized about yourself.

“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself. “I’ll deal with it later.”

For now, you just wanna relish in this feeling, pushing all thoughts of Matt to the back of your head for you to sort out later on. 

⋆˙⟡♡ The next few days felt like a dream.

Alexia and you took advantage of the activities that the resort had to offer. After all, Inés did say this was an all-expense paid trip and you both figured you’d rather spend all of that on jetskis and paddle boards instead of wasting it on overpriced margaritas by the pool.

So, you and Alexia did it all. You went paddleboarding. You went snorkeling. You tried one of those inflatable rides wherein you both had to hold on to the flimsy straps on the inflatable as a speedboat skidded through the ocean, swerving in an attempt to get you to fall off. Basically, if the resort offered it, you two were there. 

And well… you kissed a lot too. On the boats. By the beach. In a small cove at the edge of the resort. Every hidden nook, tucked away, you kissed her.

You made sure you were in the more remote, hidden parts, not wanting your brother or anyone else in the family to find out about it.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed or anything. It just felt right to keep this relationship private for now. There was something intoxicating and thrilling about knowing that Alexia belonged only to you. She might have been Barcelona’s star player, your brother’s best friend, or everyone’s idol. But now, she was just yours.

You giggled helplessly when Alexia hovered above you on the sand, her hair falling into her face as she pressed light, teasing kisses along your neck.

“Alexia! Stop, it tickles!” You said, giggling while trying to push her away.

Alexia giggled, planting a few more feathery kisses around your neck and jaw before returning back to rest on her own beach towel beside yours. “Sorry, cariño, you’re just so yummy-looking right now.”

You rolled your eyes at her and put your sunglasses back onto your face, feeling the sun hit your eyes now that Alexia’s shadow wasn’t covering your eyes. “You say that when your stomach literally looks like a chocolate bar,” you teased back, playfully poking her abs.

Alexia chuckled. “This? Please, this is nothing. This is my off-season bod,” she said with a head shake. “You should see me during the season, when I get to work out everyday. That’s when I get really fit.”

You bit your lip, blushing. It was hard enough sitting beside her like this – half sun-drunk, half overwhelmed by how attractive she already was. The idea of her being somehow even more toned left you speechless.

Alexia smirked at your reaction. She paused, propping herself up on one elbow, scanning your face before saying. “I can’t wait to take you back to Barcelona.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Take me back?”

Her brows furrowed, lips twitching into an embarrassed smile. “Does that sound too possessive? Sorry. My English. I meant that I want you to come to Barcelona.”

The soft stumble made you laugh. You reached out, cupping her cheek. “I’d love to visit you,” you admitted.

She leaned into your hand with a low hum, letting you caress her cheek. “Hmm, you want to?”

You nodded with a smile. “I have a break from law school anyway so I definitely want to spend that time with you.”

Her eyes brightened. “How long is your break?”

“Well, the earliest one I think is Thanksgiving? So, a little less than a week.” You said, trying to recall the academic calendar in your head.

Alexia looked at you with an offended look. “A week? You can’t possibly visit me for just a week?”

You chuckled. “I mean, I could always come back for Christmas. And isn’t a week enough to see Barcelona? It’s not exactly huge.”

“Hmm, let’s see. You’ll need one full day to recover from your flight.” She kissed your cheek gently.

“Two days for the tourist spots.” She kissed your other cheek.

“A day for shopping and food,” she continued, dropping a kiss onto your forehead.

“Another for your brother. He’ll want time with you too.” A kiss beside your ear.

“And then of course, I want you to meet my family and friends.” She moved to the other side, pressing her lips softly to the other side. You were giggling by then, heat spreading through you.

Finally, she met your gaze, biting her lip before her voice dipped lower. “And I’d need one whole day.” She leaned in to capture your lips in a gentle peck. “Just us. You, me… and my bed.”

You made a face, shoving slightly at her shoulder. “You’re so gross, Alexia.”

She feigned innocence, smirking all the while. “What? I only meant cuddles and Spanish movies. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at how easily she unraveled you.

Alexia flopped back onto her towel, arms folded behind her head. “Maybe I should just visit you before the season starts.”

“There’s not much to do back home,” you admitted with a shrug. “It’s definitely no Barcelona.”

“I don’t care,” she said simply, turning her head to look at you. “I’m not going for the city. I’m going for you.”

You looked at her, analyzing her face. Alexia looked sincere and genuine, saying it so casually as if it wasn’t a big deal. You bit your lip, mostly flattered that she was becoming this interested in you.

But also, scared. 

It was easy being with her when you were here on some remote island in Spain, away from reality. But you had no clue how this relationship would play out in the real world where responsibilities, judgement, and ex-boyfriends existed. 

Alexia must have caught your worried reaction and your hesitation because her tone softened. “I mean, only if you’d want me there.”

You swallowed hard, then laughed at yourself for even doubting. Alexia made you feel things you didn’t even have words for yet, things that made your chest ache in the best way. “Of course,” you smiled. “I’d love to have you over.”

She returned your smile, before leaning in again to capture your lips. 

⋆˙⟡♡ Even if you and Alexia have technically only been dating for a short period, you’ve grown attached and clingy to her, wanting to spend every day and second with her.

But wedding duties came. 

Alexia had to go to your brother’s bachelor party while you had to go to Inés’ bachelorette.

⋆˙⟡♡ The boys chartered a yacht back to the main island to party at one of the big, high-end clubs. The entourage was a mix – players and staff from the club, a couple family members, Xav’s med school friends. Alexia knew most of them well enough to be comfortable being the only girl in the group, yet she couldn’t bring herself to relax. The loud music, the lights, the drinks… it all felt distant. In her mind, all she could focus on was her yearning to go back to the resort to be with you

Still, her quiet detachment went unnoticed. The others were too busy scanning the dance floor, competing over who was getting attention from the pretty girls at the bar.

“She’s definitely looking at me,” Lewandowski boasted, tipping his drink toward a girl across the room. “I’m the famous one here. It’s obvious.”

One of the staffers snorted. “Please. This isn’t the pitch. It’s a club. Looks are what matter.”

“Come on, bro, look at me.” Lewa countered, gesturing at himself.

Xav laughed at the banter ongoing about which of the guys was getting flirty smiles and looks  from the pretty, long-legged blonde at the bar. “You guys are blind,” he commented. “She’s clearly checking Alexia out.”

Everyone looked at Alexia who looked completely off guard, previously just spacing out as she stared at her glass of whiskey. “Me?”

The group chuckled. Xav nodded. “Yeah, go on, try and wave at her. Let’s test it out.”

Alexia frowned but acquiesced anyway, raising her hand in the smallest, most reluctant wave paired with a tight-lipped smile. Unexpectedly, the girl giggled and whispered something to her friend before biting her lip and waving back. The entourage practically hollered at the reaction, realizing that Xav was right.

“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Marc, one of Xav’s med school friends, urged, half-shoving her off her stool.

Alexia chuckled, cheeks warming, but shook her head. “No thanks. I’m seeing someone.”

Xav looked shocked. “Wait, huh? Since when?”

Alexia’s lips curved into a smirk and she shrugged, taking a swig of her drink, letting Xav wait for her answer. The rest of the crew shifted their attention elsewhere, more interested in the booze and the other girls than Alexia’s current relationship status.

“Just recently, seeing how it goes.” She said as she put her glass on the counter. She flashed Xav another lopsided smile, feeling a bit cheeky knowing that she was talking about his sister.

“You never told me,” Xav said with a shocked tone but flashed her a smile. “It’s good though. After… everything with your ex, it’s nice to see you giving someone a real chance again. She must be something special if you’re turning down blondes in a club.”

Alexia gave him a small shrug and a smile, not wanting to let him in on more of the details.

Xav playfully nudged her. “No, I’m serious ‘cause weren’t you just talking about flirting with other girls before the wedding?” 

Alexia responded to his inquiry with a head shake paired with a small eyeroll, forgetting she did mention kissing some girl (which turned out to be his sister) at a club in Ibiza. 

“So, this new girl really must be something, huh?” Xav asked again.

Alexia sighed and felt her cheeks warm.  “Yeah, this girl… she’s really great.” 

Xav seemed happy but tilted his head in confusion. “So, who is she?”

Alexia smirked, shrugging. “Just someone I met recently.”

He looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Is she someone I know?”

She just looked at him with a blank expression. His eyes widened as the silence stretched a beat too long. “Please don’t tell me it’s one of my cousins cause if it is, you gotta end it. Those girls are a mess.”

Alexia chuckled and shook her head. “No, no… I can assure you it isn’t them. I met them and I don’t thonk they’re my type. No offense.” She paused, pouring herself another drink from one of the several hard liquor bottles the group ordered. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t approve either way.”

Xav narrowed his eyes but didn’t push further. Deep inside, he thought it must be one of Inés’ Instagram influencer cousins or something. Little did he know, it was someone much closer to home the truth really was.

⋆˙⟡♡Across the island, the girls had gathered for something far tamer. Inés had never been the type for wild nights. She preferred green smoothies to tequila shots, yoga mats to dance floors. She was one of those holistic girlies who was more into health and well-being than anything else. So instead of a typical bachelorette party with male strippers and alcohol, her “last hurrah” was a yoga session followed by sound healing.

It wasn’t bad, exactly. 

The air was soft, laced with the subtle scent of the burning incense, the steady rhythm of waves carrying through the gigantic open window. You stretched and bent alongside the others, breathing through the motions. It was calming, if you let it be. (Daisy and Cam, however, looked as though they were being tortured, exchanging eye-rolls and pained expressions with every new pose. You were certain they’d rather be sneaking onto the boys’ yacht than holding some kind of “hip-opening pose.”)

And while you found some comfort in the stretches, you couldn’t fully commit either. 

Your mind kept slipping away, drifting inevitably back to Alexia. You felt like a silly highschooler with a crush. The instructor kept telling you to clear your mind and to let all thoughts go but even when you thought you finally succeeded, suddenly you’d be seeing an image of Alexia in your head. Or those beautiful hazel eyes. Or the sensation of her lips on yours.

By the time the sound healing began, you had resigned yourself to your distraction. You lay down on your mat, eyes closed as the instructor struck her bowls, sending gentle vibrations through the space. Your body was beginning to loosen and your mind was softening… until a buzz at the edge of your mat snapped you back. It was your phone.

Your eyes perked up and you surreptitiously grabbed it while the instructor was making her rounds with her bowl on the other side of the room.

It was a text from Alexia.

“Hey, meet me at the beach once you’re free?” 

You smiled, glancing at the instructor, biting your lip. Quietly, you got up and silently but swiftly made your way out of the room. Being seated right by the door made your escape easy, almost comically so. By the time the next bowl rang through the room, you were already gone.

⋆˙⟡♡ You ran over to the beach which was dark and windy. The area was completely vacant with everyone either asleep or in one of the stag parties. 

Goosebumps crawled through your skin as the cold wind nipped at your exposed arms.

You immediately saw Alexia who was sitting on one of the beach lounge chairs. You smiled, making your way to her.

She must have heard your footsteps because she immediately turned around, flashing you a grin. “That was quick.”

You chuckled, catching your breath a bit. “Yeah, I ran out of sound healing while the instructor wasn’t looking.” You responded. 

Alexia chuckled before standing up to take your hand with hers, quietly leading you closer to the shore. 

“How did you even get here?” you asked, glancing at her in disbelief. “I thought you all were partying on the main island.”

“I couldn’t take being away from you, so I had to swim back,” Alexia teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Right. I totally believe you swam all the way back in the middle of the night.” You responded sarcastically. 

“Claro. I’m a professional athlete so it was easy.” she shot back proudly, with a playful smile on her face. 

As you shook your head, a cool breeze swept across the shore, raising goosebumps on your arms. 

Alexia’s gaze flickered down, and without a word, she shrugged off her blazer. She held it open, waiting. “Here, let me.” You hesitated, but the warmth of her expression made you give in. You slipped your arms through, and her hands lingered just a second too long on your shoulders as she adjusted the fabric. You smiled, a quiet “thank you” slipping from your lips.

“Better,” she said softly, before reaching for your hand again, glancing at the matching athleisure set you were wearing. “I like your outfit but it kinda reminds me of something Inès would wear to pilates.”

You chuckled, walking closer to her, feeling the sand sink slightly with every step. “She all sent these gift bags to our rooms before we met for her bachelorette and this set was a part of it.” You responded. “Must have cost her a lot of money. I can’t believe my brother bagged a sugar momma.”

Alexia chuckled. “Oh, he’s really lucky.” She paused. “But with you, I think I got luckier than him.” 

You rolled your eyes, bumping into her slightly. “You’re so corny.”

You looked at her as she shrugged and chuckled, before locking eyes with you. “I’m not lying.” She chuckled before moving closer to you, taking your hand with hers. She smiled and something about it was just so intense and intimate that it made your heart clench a bit.

You averted your gaze. “So, uh, why are you here again? I’m pretty sure all the guys are still partying it up tonight.”

“Well, yeah, the guys are glued to the clubs tonight so I doubt they’ll be home before tomorrow.” Alexia answered. “I’m just here cause I asked the boat guy if he could drop me back real quick. Told him I forgot my maintenance meds or something just to convince him.”

You laughed. “I’m surprised Xav let you go so easily. Or that he even believed you.” You said, knowing fully well what your brother is like. 

“Oh, please. Xav got wrecked the second one of the guys poured half a bottle of vodka down his throat. He won’t even notice I’m gone until tomorrow… maybe not even then.” Alexia said.

That made you laugh, the sound carrying across the water. But then your smile softened, a different thought slipping in. “Still, you ditched a whole night of fun to come back here.”

Alexia glanced at you quickly before falling silent for a moment, gaze eventually falling to the ground, watching the sand sink underneath your feet. “I told Xav I was seeing someone, you know.”

You froze mid-step.

Her lips quirked into a small smirk, squeezing your hand a bit to comfort you. “Relax. I didn’t tell him it was you.”

“Okay, good. For a second, I thought you snitched on me.”

“Not yet,” she teased before pausing. “Still, I do wonder what he’d think about us. He seems protective of you.”

“He is, which is why I really want to wait it out. I just know he’d have a lot of questions and concerns.” you admitted quietly. “But then again… he loves you. Even before I knew you, he spoke very highly about his polite, talented, and passionate best friend. He thinks the world of you so I don’t think it would be a problem.”

Alexia smiled at that, though she was quiet for a moment before finally asking. “But how about you?”

You turned your head. “Me?”

“Yeah. What do you think about me?” She looked at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. Her gaze was soft but almost pleading, as if asking you to let her into your thoughts.

The question caught you off guard, and you let out a nervous laugh, letting go of her hand to brush the hair that flew into your face as the wind blew against it. “What do I think…?”

You exhaled, thinking.

“Well,” you began slowly, a smile growing on your face. “I think you’re kinda crazy.”

She chuckled.

You continued. “But then again, I must be crazy too for letting you drag me into cliff-jumping, jet skiing, and all that crazy stuff that I never thought I’d ever do before.”

You hummed. “I think you’re confident and you carry yourself with a lot of self-assurance but also have this soft side,” you looked at her and she just gave you a head tilt to go on. “Well, my first impression of you was certainly…something to remember. But I also liked seeing you blush and get a bit shy with me.”

“I don’t get shy,” she denied but the slight flush on her cheeks gave her away.

You chuckled.

“I think you’re sweet, too.” You said. “You actually listen when I talk, and you remember the little things I say, which… most people don’t.”

“Hmm,” Alexia said. “That’s it?”

“And well… I think you’re beautiful.” Now, it was your turn to blush. “I like your eyes, the way they look almost golden under the sun. I like your laugh and how contagious it is. I like your smile…. I just… I think about that smile as I fall asleep.”

You looked at Alexia shyly, trying to see her reaction. She tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Sounds suspiciously like you’ve got a crush on me.”

You smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself too much.”

You paused, “And you? What do you think about me?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation.

“I like you,” Alexia said firmly, looking at you. “I really like you.”

The words landed so direct that you blinked at her, taken aback by the candor. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her voice steady. “And I don’t mean that in just a ‘summer fling’ or ‘find you sexy’ kind of way. I mean… sure, it started that way a bit.” She said honestly. “But now, I know for certain that. I like you a lot. I want to know you better. I want this to be more than just for the summer.”

Your heart thudded so hard it drowned out the waves. She was looking at you nervously now, waiting. “What do you think about that?” She asked.

You were speechless. It felt like your brain had no clue how to respond. It might be the lack of actual romantic experience or the intensity of all your emotions but you just blanked. Luckily, your body knew exactly how to respond. 

Before you could even realize it, your arms were wrapped around her neck and you were kissing her. 

You kissed and made out a lot but this time, it was different. It had the same intensity and passion as your first kiss in the club but this time, there was a tenderness and intimacy to it. Alexia deepened the kiss, holding you flush against her body.

By the time you two broke apart, you both were breathless, foreheads pressed against each other. Even if your brain was still going haywire, leaving you completely unable to say anything more, words didn’t seem necessary.

Not much more was said after the kiss. Alexia just asked if she could go back to your hotel room with you and you nodded, grabbing her hand as you two made your way back to your room.

The moment the room door clicked shut behind you, Alexia’s restraint vanished. 

Her hands slid over your body, tugging her blazer off of you with a sharp pull and letting it crumple to the floor. She pressed you against the wall, lips finding their way back to yours while her hand held your waist firmly.

A shaky breath escaped your mouth as you felt her body press against you, lips now travelling from your jaw to the base of your neck, wrapping themselves around the round of your collarbone. Her hands were just as demanding as her lips, tugging at the waistband of your leggings with impatient insistence. She kissed and nipped at your throat even as you wriggled free of the fabric.

Before you had time to steady yourself, with one swift motion, Alexia picked you up, hooking her arms beneath you. You gasped and your legs instinctively wrapped around her waist as she carried you to bed. She lowered you onto the sheets gently, crawling over you again, claiming your lips with a kiss as her hands found their way to the base of your sports bra. She peeled it off of you, struggling slightly as the athletic fabric clung to you, but that barely slowed her down. She was determined to see you bare before her, clad in just the thin fabric of your underwear.

Alexia scanned you with lustful eyes, biting her lip as she took in the sight, pupils blown wide. “Dios mio…” she whispered, voice thick. “I’ve wanted to see you like this since the moment I met you.”

Your cheeks warmed. You reached for her, tugging her down with your arms again, your lips meeting hers desperately. She allowed you to help her tug her vest top over her head, leaving her topless, the warmth of her skin pressed to yours.

Before you could even react, her mouth was back to attacking your neck, kissing you with a roughness that caused you to moan louder. Her lips found their way down to your breasts. She placed a kiss on your right breast before carefully taking it into the warmth of her mouth. 

You gasped as you felt her carefully roll it around her tongue before sucking slightly. Her hand found your other breast, mirroring the action of her mouth, twisting it with her fingertips and pulling slightly. 

You could feel your body move involuntarily, bucking your hips at the sensation, yearning for more of her touch. 

Alexia chuckled against you, the low vibration against your skin making you shiver. She pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin. “Paciencia, mi amor.”

God, I love it when she speaks Spanish.

She pinned your hips gently with her hands, forcing you to stay still as she looked down at you with hungry eyes. Her expression was intense, wild but still calculated, like a predator savoring the moment before the strike.

Alexia kissed you again deeply, tongue sweeping across yours. You felt her hand slide down, finding their way to your inner thigh, pinning it down slightly to keep your legs from clamming shut. You whimpered as she drew careful patterns on your inner thigh with her thumb, teasing touches as she moved up closer to your core.

She hummed against your lips as her hands found its way to your heat, feeling the moist fabric of your underwear clinging delicately to your wet core. You moaned as you felt her fingers gently move up and down, feeling the friction tickle your clit slightly.

“Please, Alexia, please.” Your voice cracked, tone sounding more desperate than you intended. You bit your lip and looked at her with pleading eyes, clutching her arms. “I want you… por favor, cariño.”

The Spanish slipped from your tongue awkwardly, but it made her freeze. Alexia perked up at the use of Spanish, feeling touched but also smug seeing you so riled up and impatient beneath her. “Tranquila, cariño,” she whispered. “Te voy a hacer sentir bien.”

She gave you one more gentle kiss on the lips before planting more kisses down your body, lingering slightly with a tenderness that caused your breath to hitch each time. She was deliberate and slow as if she wanted you to feel every second of her devotion, a sharp contrast from the impatience she was showing a while ago. A part of you felt like she was only slowing down because she liked hearing you whimper impatiently underneath her. It felt like she was teasing you.

Her hands rested on your hips as she moved closer to your core. She smiled before she planted a kiss on the wet fabric of your underwear, causing you to shiver. “Fuck, I don’t know how I can control myself.” She murmured against you, words vibrating softly against you.

“You don’t have to,” you responded quickly. “I can take it. I want you.”

Alexia looked up to you, her eyes dark but also soft. She looked pleased to be allowed access to you like this. There was gratitude in her gaze, as though you’d just entrusted her with something precious. You nodded quickly, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

You never had much experience before this. 

Of course, Matt and you had your fair share of sexual encounters but it left you vaguely unsatisfied every time. After your first time together, you were convinced that sex was something men enjoyed more than women. It became something you never really craved or wanted; you only ever acquiesced to Matt’s request whenever it was his birthday or whenever he begged. And, for the longest time, you thought all your friends were lying about the kind of sex they were having, thinking to yourself, “Surely, it can’t be all that.”

But god, were you wrong.

Alexia had barely touched you and yet, you were finally seeing what you were missing out on. She hooked her fingers gently at the edges of your underwear, pulling them down carefully, before setting it aside on the edge of the bed.

She lowered herself, leaving kisses from your neck to your collarbones to your stomach. 

“Look at me,” she ordered in a low but gentle voice. “Look at me while I show you how much I want you.”

You bit your lip and looked down at her, meeting her eyes. Suddenly, a gasp escaped your mouth as you felt her lips around your throbbing clit, carefully wrapping her lips around it before sucking it gently. You struggled to keep your eyes open as she continued, now drawing firm but slow circles with her tongue.

Alexia could have devoured you. You felt it in the restrained strength of her grip, the hunger in her eyes but she held back, choosing instead to take her time, to actually savour you. She wasn’t just trying to consume you nor to simply satisfy her own prurient desires. Instead, she wanted to give, to worship, to cherish you with every movement. She wanted to make you feel desired in a way that left no doubt in your mind about her feelings for you.

This was another way of her showing you that she wanted you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging, urging her closer to your core. Your hips shifted restlessly, grinding against her mouth as frustration bled into your desperation. She smiled against you, the curve of her lips sending another shiver straight through you, before she picked up her pace, her tongue working you more intently.

Then her hand slid lower, teasing along your entrance, the soft pads of her two fingers pressing gently until you were trembling again. You gasped, your head tilting back, and when she finally pushed inside, you moaned out, a bit overwhelmed by the sensation.

Alexia thrusted into you slowly, almost measured, all while her tongue continued its careful movement around your clit. Every flick of her mouth, every thrust of her fingers seemed designed not to overwhelm you. She was careful not to go too rough with you, even if she just wanted to absolutely ravish you.

“Feel good?” she asked softly, pausing just long enough to glance up at you. Her lips glistened with your nectar.

You nodded frantically. “Y-yes, Alexia.” You responded with a slightly strained voice. “You can go faster.”

“Hmm?” Her voice vibrated against you, making your core clench. “Faster?

“Yes, please, Alexia.” You begged, breath catching as you tangled your fingers in her hair. “I want more.”

And just like that, something shifted in her. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Her restraint was replaced by hunger. She pressed her mouth harder against you, her tongue moving faster, a tad messier, while her fingers drove deeper, curling until they found that tender spot that made your entire body jolt. The white sheets bunched beneath your fists, bed shifting as Alexia thrusted faster and rougher into you.

“Alexia!” Her name tore from your lips.

She answered with a satisfied, muffled sound, her pace only growing more urgent, eating you out as though she couldn’t get enough of you, as if only you could satisfy her hunger. Every thrust of her fingers pushed you closer to the edge, every flick of her tongue causing the warmth to build up in your stomach, the tension in you growing tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You couldn’t say any more. Suddenly, you were coming undone. You couldn’t form a coherent thought as the pleasure rippled inside you. You looked down at Alexia who was smiling widely, looking incredibly satisfied with herself. You felt a blush creep across your cheeks, a bit embarrassed by how fast you came.

“Oh my god,” you covered your face. “I - I didn’t know I’d finish that fast.”

Alexia laughed at your meekness, feeling endeared by you. She moved up to you, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Cariño, it’s fine. It’s more than fine.” She chuckled. “I thought it was cute. You must like me a lot to orgasm that fast, huh?”

You giggled but still felt embarrassed. “I just… I just don’t think anyone has ever made me cum that fast…” you paused, hestitating.  “Actually, I don’t think anyone has made me cum ever.”

Alexia’s eyes widened. “You’re joking with me.”

You shook your head.

Her laugh was warm, disbelieving. She pressed a trail of quick, teasing kisses along your neck. “So that was your first orgasm?”

“Well… not my first.” You shifted, clarifying. “The first one someone else has ever given me.”

She smiled, looking extremely pleased with herself. “Hmm… well, are you ready for your second?”

You chuckled but bit your lip, giving Alexia a look that told her everything she needed to know.

⋆˙⟡♡ “Good morning, guapa.”

You blinked your eyes open, feeling the warm sun fill the room as Alexia opened the curtains. She was dressed in a robe and her hair was tied up into a bun.

You smiled groggily, still sinking into the warmth of the sheets. “Why are you up so early?” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep, furrowing your brows as the bed suddenly felt too big and empty without her beside you. “You’re not the type to cuddle after sex?”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head as she turned toward you. “We literally cuddled all night. What are you talking about?” She smiled. “Besides, I wanted to make sure we’d have breakfast, so I ordered room service.”

That woke you a little more. You shifted onto your side, propping your cheek against your hand. “Hmm. What did you order?”

“Well, I noticed you went back for seconds on the french toast at the buffet the other morning,” she said as she headed to you, sitting at the edge of your bed. “So I ordered that. And since I didn’t know what you’d want to drink in the morning, I just ordered a small variation of drinks.”

“You’re actually an angel.” You reached up, cupping her cheek gently with your palm. Her skin was warm against your hand, and she leaned into your touch without hesitation.

She carefully got into bed with you, resting her head on your bare chest as you wrapped an arm around her, tangling your fingers in her hair. You and Alexia certainly had a long night, to say the least. It was intense, intimate but never vulgar or impersonal. It felt almost vulnerable giving yourself to her over and over again, allowing her access to you.

You didn’t regret it one bit. 

The attraction with Alexia might have started a bit shallow. When you kissed her at the bar, you already felt that initial sexual attraction but back then, you wouldn’t have expected thst there would be to be more to it. Part of you was happy that you were a coward then, chickening out from pursuing her any more than just a kiss. If you gave in earlier, you weren’t so sure you’d feel the way you were feeling now.

You placed a kiss on Alexia’s forehead, soft and tender.

“I enjoyed last night,” you whispered. 

She hummed. “I did a great job?” She looked at you with a small smile.

You nodded. “Well duh.”

Alexia hummed back, smiling. “So, how about we have a little more fun before room service arrives.”

You playfully swatted her, making her chuckle.

Before you could add anything more, the room’s doorbell chimed.

“Saved by the bell.” Alexia stood up slowly, brushing her hair down. “You stay in bed. I’ll get it for you.”

You watched her walk to the door, your heart doing a funny little flip. You had just spent the night with the most beautiful person ever. And now, she was about to bring you breakfast in bed. You couldn’t stop smiling, overwhelmed with the thought: wow, how is this my life right now?

You heard the door open.

“Where did you go last– wait, huh? Did I get the wrong room?” The muffled voice from the door said.  “No, wait, I know you! Aren’t you that hot girl from the club?”

You recognized that voice. Your stomach dropped as you sat bolt upright, clutching the duvet to your bare chest as you crawled to the edge of the bed, peeking at the door. Your cousin Cam was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised and a grin spreading across her face.

Shit. You were in so much trouble.

⋆˙⟡♡ You tightened the robe around yourself, heart hammering as Cam leaned against the wall outside your hotel room, arms folded. Her eyes were narrowed, but she looked more entertained than angry.

“So,” she said finally, tilting her head toward the door. “That’s the girl from the first night, isn’t it? The one who we had to pay you like, what, a million euros to kiss?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Cam…”

“Don’t even try to deny it.” She raised her brows. “I’d recognize that face anywhere. That was the face you were practically swallowing at that club.”

You winced, contorting your face in disgust. “God, can you not say it like that?”

Cam smirked. “So? Are you going to explain why the girl from the club is now ordering room service in your hotel suite?” She gushed, eyes widened. “I’m kinda impressed, cuz. You literally ran away from her in the club but now, you’ve quite literally been inside her cooch!”

You smacked her for her language. “Oh my god, shut up, Cam!”

She giggled. “How did you even get her here? I’m surprised they let a random girl into the resort.”

You hesitated a bit. “…Because it’s not just some random girl. It’s Alexia.”

Cam blinked. “And that means… what exactly? Should I know who that is?”

You ran a hand through your hair, groaning. “She’s Xav’s best friend.”

That landed like a bomb. Cam’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding. The same Alexia who he was yapping about before? Like the soccer player?””

You nodded, crossing your arms cautiously.

“No, you’re actually kidding.” She laughed in disbelief, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Of all the people on this island, you managed to hook up with his best friend?”

You winced again. “It’s not like I actively targeted his best friend specifically.” You groaned. “You knew we met at the bar and then we got along hanging out here and I don’t know, okay? It just… happened.”

Cam looked like she just connected the dots. “Is that why you were rushing out of the sound healing last night?” She asked. “I can’t believe you left me and Daisy with that bowl-clanging lady while you were out here doing the nasty with your brother’s best friend.”

“I… I don’t know. She just told me that she bailed on the guy’s bachelor party and that she wanted to see me again and I don’t know.” You sighed. “It was just so unexpected.”

She paused, nodding. “So, it’s not just a hook-up?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“So, you’ve actually been dating?” She asked.

You nodded again, sighing.

“Damn, I wanna see how Xav would react to this.” Cam asked with a small smile on her face.

“Cam, He cannot know.” You replied promptly. “You absolutely cannot tell anyone, especially not Xav.”

Cam sighed and just looked at you. “He’d freak out if he found out now, at his wedding of all places. That man is a Bridezilla.”

You bit your lip, lowering your voice. “…So you won’t tell?”

She studied you for a moment, then smirked. “Well, duh. I’m not saying a word but I just know this is going to blow up on your face.”

“Cam,” you warned, giving your younger cousin a dirty look, asking her with your eyes to take you seriously.

“What?” She shrugged. “It’s true. I mean, come on. You’re sneaking around with his best friend. At his wedding week, in the same hotel. And, right after he gave you that speech about making amends or whatever with Matt. It’s a mess, girl.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands. “You’re not helping.”

Cam nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “Hey, on the bright side? At least she’s hot.”

You dropped your hands to glare at her. “That’s your takeaway?”

“Well, that and the fact that Daisy can never know,” Cam added quickly. “Because if she finds out, you’ll have the entire extended family updated by lunch.”

“Exactly. So this stays between us. No one else.” You emphasized. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not gonna let anyone know until after the wedding.” She responded with an eye roll. “If anything, you kinda owe me twice now. One, for kinda setting up the conditions that landed you that absolute hottie, and now for keeping this all under wraps.”

You nodded. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

⋆˙⟡♡ “So, luckily, she agreed to keep it a secret until the end of the wedding.” You shared with Alexia as she chuckled, shaking her head as she ate another bite from her own plate of french toast. 

You continued. “I’m just glad it was Cam who caught us and not Daisy… that girl would have blabbed already if it were her.”

Alexia nodded, a small smile on her face. “So, you’re really not gonna tell your brother until after the wedding?”

You gave a quick nod and took a sip of water, trying to sound casual. “Yup. That’s the plan.”

She pouted. “But what if I want to dance with you during the party?” She said with a teasing tone.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “We can dance but we gotta keep it lowkey, you know. I can’t have him suspecting anyway.” You said. “Not until all the festivities are over, at least.”

“Hmm.” She tapped her fork against the plate, thinking. “You do know that your brother already filed a leave from the club, right?”

You shook your head, tilting it slightly. “No, why?”

Alexia sighed, brushing the crumbs from her robe with the back of her hand. “Uh, he mentioned that Inés wanted their honeymoon in France since her family owns some kind of château there. Then he said maybe Germany after that for Octoberfest or whatever. Knowing them…” she chuckled, “…it probably won’t stop there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up honeymooning for half a year if no one stops them.”

You bit your lip, the thought sitting heavy in your chest. “Uh… then I guess we just tell him after they get back. I just don’t want him all bothered or irritated while he’s still in that post-wedding glow or whatever.”

Alexia hummed in acknowledgment, but her nod was distracted, almost absent. She reached for her coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug as if grounding herself. You watched her carefully, trying to read her expression. 

A part of you wanted to reassure her and comfort her that you weren’t keeping her a secret because she didn’t mean something. If anything, it was the opposite. You didn’t want your brother or other people thinking that you were treating her like some rebound, especially since you literally just ended your last relationship.

“Alexia?” You said carefully. “You good?”

She gave you a tight smile. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

⋆˙⟡♡ As the wedding came closer, there were more activities set for everyone: family bonding, drinks by the beach, dinners with the entire wedding crew. It was all fun and nice but it also meant that you and Alexia had less alone time together.

You two could get away with a casual conversation or walking together to grab some drinks. But whenever Alexia’s hands routinely slithered around your waist, you’d have to shoot her a look and carefully move away from her touch, not wanting anyone else to notice.

Today, there was yet another lunch with the entire family and all the other guests, this time in the open restaurant by the beach. Tables were arranged with a mix of both families. By some lucky twist, you and Alexia were seated at the same table.

She leaned in close, her perfume mixing with the ocean air, and slipped a hand onto your lap beneath the tablecloth. You looked around but everyone seemed too busy lining up for the food to notice her moving closer to you. “Hmm, you look really pretty.” She gushed, eyeing your face, gaze lingering too long on your lips.

You blushed, whispering back, “You don’t look so bad yourself.” You let your eyes sweep her over. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, strands framing her face, and the backless brown dress she was wearing clung in all the right places. She looked absolutely stunning.

She smirked at you, leaning closer. “Yeah? Funny thing: I actually forgot to finish my makeup.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Really? It looks really nice.” You said, looking at her face. “Not that you need any make-up to look good anyway.”

She chuckled, eyes glinting mischievously. “Mm, yeah… except I forgot to put on lipstick.”

You arched an eyebrow, not even noticing that she didn’t have lipstick on. “Oh?”

Her smirk deepened as she leaned even closer, voice low and eyes now fixated on your lips. “Yeah. Mind helping me out with that?”

“There you two are!”

You jumped, nearly knocking over your glass of water. Both your heads snapped up to see your brother walking toward the table, brows knitting as he caught your guilty expressions.

“You two good?” he asked, confusion flickering in his tone.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, Alexia was just asking me if her breath smelled.” You blurted out the first excuse as to why you were so close to each other. You chuckled nervously, cheeks burning. “She’s all good, if you’re wondering.”

He chuckled hesitantly, a bit confused. “Oookay, well, I’m sorry I have been a bit MIA lately. Groom duties, y’know?” He said. “But hey, you two seem like you’ve grown close. That’s great.”

You nodded. “Yeah, Alexia’s been… great.”

There was a pause, then he clapped a hand on the back of Alexia’s chair. “Anyway, I gotta make more rounds. Alexia, am I seeing you later? The guys from the club were saying there’s a local match on the main island. They kinda want to go on the yacht and head over there to watch.”

 Alexia nodded politely. “Maybe. I’ll see how I feel. Got a little seasick on that last trip.”

Xav chuckled and nodded, remembering the bachelor’s party when Alexia went home earlier because she said she got “seasick” on the way there. “Well, fair enough, just text me. And you –” he turned to you, ruffling your hair. “I’ll see you later, bunny.”

When he walked off to head on to the next table to make some small talk with the other tables, you slumped in your chair. “Fuck, that was close.”

Alexia smirked, unbothered. “Hmm. You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if he found out.”

You groaned softly. “You have no idea. Seriously. Don’t even joke about it.”

She tilted her head, clearly holding back something but letting it go for now. She sipped her water before glancing at you with mock seriousness. “For the record though… I really did forget my lipstick. Come with me to the bathroom?”

You nodded, grabbing your clutch and followed Alexia into the ladies’ room. You fished inside your clutch before pulling out a tube of lipstick. “I only have this one.”

“That’s fine.” She nodded, stepping closer. You handed it over to her but she shook her head. “Put it on me.”

You giggled nervously but you agreed anyway. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yeah, I’m twelve which makes you a pervert.” Alexia teased.

“You’re so inappropriate.” You rolled your eyes at her as you uncapped the lipstick and stepped close, steadying her chin with your hand. You carefully applied the lipstick on her but faltered a bit when you felt her arm slip around your waist, tugging you closer. 

You swiped a little too much on her bottom lip. “Wait, hold on, let me blot –”

Before you could grab the tissue, she caught your wrist. “No need.” Then she leaned forward, pressing playful kisses along your neck, smearing the lipstick and making you squeal.

“Alexia!” you laughed, swatting at her shoulders. “Not here, please. It’s gonna stain!”

She hummed against your skin, completely unbothered, her lips dragging further down toward your collarbone.

At first, it was sweet and funny but then, reality hit you. She knew you two had to head back out soon. Lipstick marks all over your face and neck would raise more than just a few questions. The nervousness in your chest twisted into irritation.

“Alexia, stop.” You said with a sterner voice, as you pushed her shoulder a little firmer.

She froze, blinking at you as if testing whether you were serious. When she saw that you were, the playful warmth drained from her face. She pulled back slowly, widening her eyes just slightly, and then gave the smallest shake of her head, like she couldn’t believe you’d ruined the moment. The mood instantly shifted.

You frowned and groaned. “Come on, Alexia, I told you…”

“Told me what?” She said, voice low but still sharp. “That I can only kiss you or hold you when no one’s looking?”

You looked at her, suddenly taken aback by the sudden outburst. 

“Look around, there’s no one here. And I still can’t kiss you?” She sighed. “Why do I have to be some secret anyway?”

Alexia shook her head, looking at the mirror to wipe off a bit of the lipstick that smudged off to the sides of her lips. “I understand not wanting to shock your brother but honestly, I think it’s a bit silly.” She said, candidly. “He’s not going to drop dead because his adult best friend and his adult sister are dating. Sure, he’s stressed right now, but he’s not irrational.”

You leaned against the counter, exhaling hard, running both hands through your hair. The thing was… she wasn’t wrong. She just didn’t understand the whole picture. You had only just broken things off with your ex of nearly a decade. Your family was just learning, still partly convinced it was just a short parting, a momentary falter. They’d think you were just using Alexia as some rebound. You couldn’t help but go back to what your brother said during the first day here about not involving anyone or hurting anyone’s feelings.

It wasn’t just about them, though. It was her. The last thing you wanted was for Alexia to think the same: that she was just the rebound, a distraction from your break-up. Maybe that first kiss had been exactly that but so much has changed since then.

But still, you understood why she’d be upset

“You’re right,” you said quietly, forcing yourself to meet her gaze in the mirror. “I’m sorry, Alexia. I like you. I want this. I really do.” You took a deep breath. “I promise I’ll tell him… during the reception. Okay?”

Her brows rose, skeptical. 

“I swear. We won’t have to hide after that.”

That softened her. She smiled, tugging you by the waist and kissing you gently. Suddenly, a toilet flushed behind you. You both froze.

Slowly, the stall door creaked open.

And out stepped your mother.

⋆˙⟡♡ Alexia excused herself after you signalled for her to go, giving her a look and a subtle tilt of the head that said go, i’ll talk to you later. She hesitated for a moment, wanting to get a word in, but ultimately decided it was best to leave it up to you and your mom. So, politely, she excused herself and stepped out.

Your mom didn’t seem all too bothered. She headed over to the sink, turning on the tap. “That Alexia girl’s real nice, isn’t she?” She said it so casually. “You know I’ve watched her play, when I visited Xav after dad died. She’s a great player.”

You just looked at her incredulously as she reached over the soap dispenser and lathered her hand. “Sorry, by the way,” she added. “I should’ve said something when you two entered but I was taking a dump.”

You chuckled awkwardly. “Look, mom. About what you saw…”

She raised her brows, shaking excess water off her hands before grabbing a towel. “Let me guess,” she said, completely unfazed. “You like Alexia. You two have been seeing each other, started dating a little, and you’re terrified your brother will have a meltdown about it if he finds out that his little sister, who he treats like a child and who just broke up with her boyfriend, is dating his best friend, who also just broke up with her ex.”

Your lips parted in surprise, and you could only nod. “…How’d you know?”

“I’m a mom.” She rolled her eyes lightly, like it should’ve been obvious. Then she gave you a pointed look. “And, well… I like to gossip. You two should be more careful because the staff were also starting to talk about you two galavanting about together. Alexia isn’t exactly incognito. She’s literally a famous athlete so people talk.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

You sighed. “Mom, I know it looks like I’m rushing into things or whatever.” You started, wanting to rush before she got into a lecture. “But Alexia… she’s different. She’s amazing and I just… I feel like I’m seeing the world for the first time when I’m with her. Like everything finally makes sense.”

“I know it might seem soon to say that.” You paused. “But, trust me, I actually like her.”

Your mom hummed, fishing into her bag to grab her own lipstick. “You know, dear,” she said. “I never liked Matt all that much anyway. He was a little too boring for you.”

You blinked at her, head jerking up. “Wait, what?”

She gave a half-shrug, flicking her hand dismissively. “Don’t act so surprised.” She said. “Of course, I’ve always found him boring. I only liked him because I thought you liked him… which was why I was so upset when you said you two were on a break. I just thought you were upset.”

You nodded, understandingly. She continued, “Had I known that you were already taking interest in someone else, someone who actually excites you and makes you happy,” she stepped closer with a piece of paper towel, wiping the lipstick marks off your neck. “Then, I wouldn’t have been all too sad about you and Matt parting. If anything, it’s kinda exciting if you do end up dating Alexia. I’d have an excuse to drag you along with me to Barcelona.”

You chuckled, feeling a bit relieved that your mother seemed approving of the relationship. Your mother paused and looked you in the eyes. “But listen,” she said, tone growing more stern. “You need to sort that situation out with Matt first. I know a break is a break, but you gotta make sure there aren’t any loose ends. If Alexia’s who you really want, you need to settle things first before you pursue her. It’s what she deserves.”

You nodded. “I will,” you promised, though your voice wavered. “I’m just worried about Xav.”

“He’ll be fine,” she said, shaking her head. “You know how he is – romantic, traditional, very big on commitment and working things out like your father. But he loves you. He’ll be fine… or at least, he’ll come around. Besides, he can’t dictate what you do with your life. You’re not actually his pet bunny, y’know.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was just being nervous about it.”

She smiled knowingly. “He’s not as neurotic now as he was before. Inés softened that man up, trust me. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You felt relieved and also a bit ridiculous for caring too much about what your brother would think. Sure, he might worry and give you a whole lecture about commitment again but it was such a little thing. Alexia deserved to explore your relationship together publicly instead of keeping it all under wraps.

⋆˙⟡♡ The very next morning, you planned on telling your brother.

You stood outside your brother and future sister-in-law’s private villa, rehearsing what you were going to say to him under your breath. You hadn’t told Alexia about your plan; this was something you needed to do alone. You were the one who had pulled her into this mess, and you owed it to both of you to clear a way forward. But standing there, pacing on the stone path in front of the villa’s entrance, your stomach tied itself in knots.

“Chiqui!” 

You jumped and turned around to see Inés in a linen dress, her dark hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She tilted her head as she looked at you, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing out here? Did Xavi rope you into helping with some wedding thing again?” She groaned. “I swear, that guy is too anxious about everything.”

You chuckled nervously, shaking your head. “I… uh…” 

She furrowed her eyebrows together, stepping closer to her. “Is everything okay?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, but the word stuck in your throat. “Yeah, I…” You stopped, closed your eyes briefly, then sighed. “No. Actually… I don’t know.”

Inés didn’t press, just slipped her hand gently around your wrist and steered you toward one of the woven hammocks strung between two posts by the villa. She sat down first, then patted the spot beside her.

“Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, cautiously, you asked, “So… you know Alexia, right?”

Inés blinked, then let out a laugh. “Of course I know Alexia. We hang out with her all the time. And every single time she has dinner at our house, she asks for an extra serving of empanadas to take home.” She shook her head fondly. “Why? Did something happen?”

Your chest tightened. You took a steadying breath. “Well, yeah… about Alexia. I, well, I–” You swallowed. “I like Alexia.”

Inés tilted her head, a little confused. “Yeah, that’s great. Xav has been saying that you two would get along.”

You shook your head and chuckled. “Uh, I mean… I actually like her.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, finally realizing what you meant. She changed her tone to a more excited tone. “Oh, well, that’s amazing actually.”

You looked up at her.

“Alexia’s great. She’s really nice, passionate, and responsible.” She nodded. “Xav always told me Alexia was also really great to the people she dated. She’s loyal and she loves to take care of people. Funny girl, too. I can totally see that working. Why? Are you thinking of dating her?”

You bit your lip. “I kinda… already am.”

Inés looked shocked again but still kept the chipper tone. “Well, even better.” She said with a shrug. “I mean, it’s a little unexpected, sure. I wouldn’t have put you two together in my head. But unexpected doesn’t mean bad. It doesn’t make it any less great.”

She caught the way your shoulders remained tense, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. Inés reached over, laying her long, slender hand gently over yours in a comforting gesture.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I get it. But you don’t have to worry so much.”

You exhaled, your voice small. “Yeah, but… you know how it looks. I just broke up with Matt. Everyone’s still adjusting to that, and… Xavi was so close to him. He already gave me this whole lecture about commitment and not dragging anyone into a mess. I just—” Your voice cracked. “I’ve always looked up to him. And if he disapproves, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Inés nodded slowly, her expression understanding. “I get it. Honestly, I’d be a little anxious too.” She squeezed your hand. “But listen, Xavi is like that because he means well. And right now, he’s wound up tighter than usual because he’s been planning this entire wedding basically on his own.” She smiled ruefully. “My fault, really. All I did for planning was buying my dress and booking my hair and makeup. Everything else was Xavier’s doing.”

You shared a laugh. 

“But it’s fine,” Ines continued, more serious now. “I support you. I think you and Alexia could be really good for each other.”

You felt a little bit more relaxed, nodding gratefully. 

But then, Inés hesitated, her smile faltering for a bit. “But, chiqui… I think you should wait to talk to him. At least for now.” She nodded, eyes filled with thought. “I need to speak to him about something first, okay?”

Your stomach dipped. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Before she could answer, the villa door swung open. “Hey, Bunny,” your brother greeted warmly, stepping out. His face lit up when he saw you. “What’s up?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Inés giving the smallest shake of her head as if to say not now.

“Xav, come inside with me,” she said quickly, slipping her hand onto his arm. “I need to talk to you about something. Your sister can wait a few minutes.”

“What is it?” He looked confused.

“We just have to go inside now.” Inés said, tugging his arm.

“Okay, okay, but bunny,” He said, gesturing at someone to follow you. “Look who just dropped by.”

You looked behind him. Xavier stepped aside, showing who was lurking behind the villa door. Your stomach plummeted. 

It was your ex.

Matt gave you a lopsided smile. “Surprise, babe.”

The dormitory smelled faintly of candle wax and old linen. Rain tapped softly against the high windows overhead, though the storm had weakened sometime during the night. Around her, the other sisters still slept beneath pale blankets, their breathing uneven and heavy with dreams.

Natasha envied them sometimes.

Not their faith.

Their ease.

The first bell rang.

Several sisters stirred immediately.

A groan sounded somewhere near the far wall.

“Oh, merciful Lord,” Sister Yelena muttered into her pillow, “if devotion requires consciousness before sunrise, I fear I shall never become holy.”

A few sleepy laughs spread through the room.

Natasha lowered her gaze to hide the smile threatening her mouth.

“You say this every morning,” Sister Marta whispered while tying back dark curls beneath her veil.

“And every morning I am correct.”

Yelena finally sat upright, glaring at the bell tower as if personally betrayed by it.

“You’re awake already?” she asked Natasha incredulously. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“A while.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“She doesn’t sleep,” Sister Marta said solemnly. “I’m convinced she simply powers down for an hour and waits for dawn.”

Natasha stood, smoothing her robes calmly. “Maybe God favours discipline.”

“Or maybe,” Yelena leaned in dramatically, “God fears you.”

More laughter.

Warmth flickered briefly through Natasha’s chest.

Small moments like this existed carefully within the monastery—quiet pockets of humanity hidden beneath ritual and restraint. Most outsiders imagined convent life as endless silence and prayer, but silence became unbearable without companionship to soften it.

Even Natasha understood that.

Sometimes.

The sisters dressed together beneath dim lantern light, exchanging murmured complaints about chores, weather, and aching knees from prayer.

Marta nearly walked into a bedpost while half asleep.

Sister Yelena snorted loudly enough to earn a warning glance from Sister Agnes.

Natasha watched all of it quietly while fastening the sleeves at her wrists.

She noticed things.

Always had.

The way Sister Marta rubbed at her shoulder when storms approached because old injuries ached in the cold.

The way Sister Yelena spoke more loudly whenever she felt uncertain.

The exhaustion beneath Sister Agnes’s eyes that prayer no longer seemed to fix.

Patterns comforted Natasha.

People became easier to understand when observed carefully enough.

“Sister Natasha.”

She glanced up.

Yelena tossed her an apple stolen from yesterday’s supper.

“You forgot breakfast again yesterday.”

“I was working.”

“You are always working.”

Natasha caught the apple easily. “Thank you.”

“See?” Marta whispered dramatically to Yelena. “Emotion. Gratitude. She does feel things.”

Natasha rolled her eyes faintly, which only encouraged them further.

By the time they entered the chapel together, dawn had barely begun staining the mountains beyond the stained glass windows.

Candles flickered across ancient stone.

The abbey was old enough that no one remembered who had first built it. Some parts dated back centuries further than recorded history, buried beneath newer walls and renovations like bones beneath skin.

Natasha loved those older places most.

The forgotten halls.

The sealed doors.

The silence hidden beneath the monastery’s daily rhythm.

Morning prayer began.

The sisters bowed their heads.

Natasha recited every verse perfectly from memory.

But midway through the litany, she became aware of something strange.

Not a sound.

A feeling.

As though someone stood directly behind her.

Watching.

Her shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“…deliver us from evil…”

The sensation deepened.

Cold prickled slowly across the back of her neck.

Natasha resisted the urge to turn around immediately. Instead, she listened first.

No footsteps.

No breathing.

Nothing except prayer echoing softly through the chapel.

Still—

Someone was there.

She looked.

The back of the chapel remained empty.

Only darkness gathered between the pillars.

Natasha frowned slightly before forcing herself to face forward again.

Fatigue, perhaps.

The storm had disrupted everyone’s sleep.

Yet even after prayer ended, unease lingered beneath her ribs.

As the sisters rose from the pews, Yelena bumped lightly into Natasha’s shoulder.

“You look haunted.”

“I’m fine.”

“That answer usually means the opposite.”

Natasha almost responded but stopped.

One of the candles near the altar had gone out.

Thin smoke curled upward into still air.

Mother Superior noticed it too.

Her expression tightened briefly before she crossed herself.

“Storm pressure,” Sister Agnes murmured.

No one argued.

But Natasha continued staring at the extinguished candle long after the others had moved on.

The monastery settled into routine as morning passed.

Laundry.

Scripture study.

Kitchen work.

Natasha spent most of the afternoon repairing damaged texts in the library alongside Marta, whose true calling in life seemed to be complaining softly while doing meticulous work anyway.

“This ink is older than civilization,” Marta muttered, squinting at faded lettering. “If I inhale enough dust today, tell them I died beautifully.”

“You say that every week.”

“And one week I shall be right.”

Natasha smiled faintly without looking up from her work.

Rain hammered against the tall windows harder now.

The storm had returned by midday with unnatural force. Wind bent the trees beyond the cliffs violently enough that several younger sisters began whispering about divine warnings again.

The abbey disliked storms.

It became restless during them.

Doors creaked without wind.

Floors groaned at strange hours.

The older sisters crossed themselves more often.

By evening, even Mother Superior seemed unsettled.

“The western halls are to remain locked tonight,” she instructed during supper. “No one is to wander after prayer.”

Yelena leaned toward Natasha immediately.

“The western halls,” she whispered ominously. “Where ghosts and ancient sins reside.”

“Or storage.”

“That is far less interesting.”

“The answer is usually the less interesting option.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “One day your practicality will ruin my appreciation for drama.”

Natasha took another bite of bread.

But quietly she thought about the feeling from the chapel again.

Watching.

Waiting.

When evening prayer ended, Mother Superior stopped Natasha near the chapel doors.

“The keys,” she said softly, holding up the pair between them gracefully.

“You trust me too much.”

Natasha accepted them.

“I trust your discipline.”

Not the same thing.

The western corridor lay beneath the oldest section of the monastery.

Few sisters liked going there after dark.

Natasha had never minded it before.

Lantern in hand, she descended the narrow stone staircase alone while thunder rolled somewhere beyond the mountains.

The air grew colder underground.

Older.

The corridor stretched ahead beneath low arches blackened by time.

Ancient paintings lined the walls, saints fading slowly into shadow until their faces became impossible to distinguish from the dark surrounding them.

Natasha locked the first door carefully.

Then the second.

Rain battered the monastery above her.

Another step.

Another lock.

Then—

silence.

Complete silence.

Natasha stopped instantly.

The storm had vanished.

No thunder.

No rain.

No lantern crackling in her hand.

Nothing.

A sharp chill slid slowly down her spine.

Her breathing sounded suddenly too loud.

The corridor behind her remained empty.

But every instinct inside her screamed that she was no longer alone.

Natasha’s grip tightened around the lantern.

“Who’s there?”

No answer.

Then the lantern dimmed.

Not flickered.

Dimmed.

As though darkness itself pressed against the flame.

Fear struck hard and immediately this time.

Real fear.

The kind that hollowed the stomach.

Natasha stepped backward instinctively.

Something moved at the far end of the corridor.

Not fully visible.

A shape.

Too large.

For one impossible second, she thought she saw the outline of horns emerging from the dark.

Then the shadow moved again—

closer.

Natasha’s breath caught sharply.

Every survival instinct she possessed surged violently to life.

Run.

The thought hit with terrifying clarity.

Run now.

And for the first time in years—

Natasha panicked.

She turned immediately, lantern shaking in her grip as she hurried back down the corridor. Her footsteps echoed too loudly against stone, breath quickening despite every attempt to steady it.

Behind her—

nothing.

No footsteps.

No pursuit.

That somehow frightened her more.

The staircase appeared ahead.

Natasha climbed it quickly, nearly missing a step before forcing herself to slow down. By the time she reached the upper halls again, her pulse hammered painfully against her throat.

Warm candlelight greeted her.

Voices.

Safety.

Several sisters still lingered near the kitchens preparing tea before bed.

Sister Yelena looked up first.

“There you are,” she said. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.”

A lie.

Marta frowned immediately. “Sister.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Too sharp.

The room fell quiet.

Natasha lowered her eyes a moment later, regaining control.

“…I apologize.”

Yelena stood slowly. “Did something happen downstairs?”

Natasha almost answered immediately.

Yes.

Something is down there.

Something was watching me.

But the words stopped before reaching her mouth.

Because even thinking them sounded insane.

Instead, she shook her head once.

“Just tired.”

The sisters exchanged uncertain glances.

Natasha rarely lost composure.

That frightened them more than if she had screamed.

“I’ll bring you tea,” Marta said softly.

Natasha nodded absently.

But even surrounded by candlelight and familiar voices, she could still feel it.

Watching.

Patient.

-///-

Natasha said nothing that night.

And not during breakfast the next day, nor morning prayers.

Not while Sister Marta complained bitterly over burned porridge or while Yelena attempted to steal dried figs from the kitchens and nearly got caught by Sister Agnes in the process.

Natasha moved through the day exactly as she always did.

Measured.

Calm.

Controlled.

Only the slightest shadows beneath her eyes suggested otherwise.

Several times, she caught herself listening too carefully whenever corridors fell quiet.

Once, while shelving texts in the library, she turned abruptly after sensing movement behind her, only to find empty space.

The feeling remained.

Not constant.

Intermittent.

Awareness without presence.

As though something had noticed her specifically.

And was waiting.

By evening, the storm returned again.

Harder this time.

Rain struck the monastery windows violently enough to rattle the glass. Wind moaned through ancient stone like something grieving beneath the mountain.

The sisters crossed themselves more often.

Even supper felt subdued.

“The livestock outside the eastern village were found dead this morning,” Sister Agnes murmured quietly near the end of the meal.

Yelena frowned. “From the storm?”

“No marks on them.”

Marta immediately muttered a prayer beneath her breath.

Mother Superior silenced further discussion with a single glance.

But unease spread anyway.

Natasha kept her eyes lowered toward her untouched bread.

No marks.

The words settled unpleasantly in her chest.

That night, the western halls remained locked.

Mother Superior assigned Sister Beatrice to check the lower storage rooms before compline.

Beatrice was older than most of the sisters, practical and sharp-tongued enough that even Yelena feared her disapproval slightly.

If anyone could walk those corridors without trembling, it would be her.

Natasha watched Beatrice take the lantern and keys without complaint.

Something cold tightened slowly beneath her ribs.

“Mother,” Natasha said carefully, “perhaps I should go instead.”

Mother Superior looked surprised. “Why?”

Natasha hesitated too long.

“Because I know the corridors better.”

Beatrice snorted softly. “And I know how to lock a door without getting lost in thought.”

A few sisters smiled faintly.

Natasha did not.

Mother Superior shook her head once. “It will not take long.”

Beatrice disappeared down the staircase alone.

The monastery settled into evening prayer.

Rain battered the chapel roof overhead.

Minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

Natasha became increasingly aware of every sound around her.

Candles flickering.

Pages turning.

Yelena whispering softly beside Marta.

Her pulse began climbing slowly.

Mother Superior noticed first.

“Sister Natasha?”

Before she could answer—

a scream tore violently through the monastery.

Every sister froze.

The sound came from below.

Another scream followed immediately.

Frantic.

Broken.

Several younger sisters gasped in terror.

Mother Superior stood instantly. “Stay here.”

But Natasha was already moving.

She reached the staircase first, lantern clutched tightly in one hand as she descended into darkness two steps at a time.

“Sister Beatrice!”

No answer.

Only ragged sobbing echoed faintly through the corridor below.

Natasha rounded the corner sharply and nearly collided with Sister Beatrice stumbling toward her.

The older woman looked unrecognizable.

Her face had gone completely bloodless. Tears streaked wildly down her cheeks beneath a look of absolute animal terror.

The lantern had vanished.

“Sister—”

“Don’t let it touch me,” Beatice choked out immediately.

Natasha grabbed her shoulders before she collapsed outright.

“What happened?”

Beatrice’s hands shook violently against Natasha’s sleeves.

“There’s something down there.”

The words came out barely coherent.

“In the dark—I saw—I saw—”

Her breathing hitched painfully.

Natasha felt her own pulse spike hard beneath her skin.

“What did you see?” she asked quietly.

Beatrice stared directly into her eyes.

And whispered:

“Horns.”

The corridor suddenly felt much colder.

Behind them, Mother Superior and several sisters reached the staircase landing.

Beatrice broke immediately upon seeing them.

“It looked at me,” she cried. “God forgive me, it looked right at me—”

Mother Superior crossed herself sharply. “Bring her upstairs. Now.”

The sisters hurried Beatrice away carefully while she continued sobbing prayers under her breath.

Natasha remained still in the corridor.

Watching the darkness beyond the lantern light.

Watching it watch her back.

Because now she knew.

She had not imagined it.

-///-

Fear spread quickly through the monastery after that.

No one slept properly.

Natasha noticed something important.

No one asked exactly what Beatrice had seen.

They were afraid to know.

The younger sisters whispered prayers long after. Several demanded the western halls be sealed entirely. Some suggesting they moved further from the halls. Sister Agnes insisted they request a priest from the nearest village by morning.

Mother Superior agreed and gathered the sisters after supper.

“Until Father Victor arrives,” she said calmly, “the lower halls will remain under supervision. No one is to go there alone.”

Silence followed.

Then Natasha spoke.

“I’ll go.”

Several heads turned immediately.

Mother Superior frowned. ‘’Sister—’’

“I know the corridors best.”

“That is not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

The question came too quickly.

Too directly.

Mother Superior studied her carefully.

Natasha kept her expression neutral despite feeling every eye in the room settle onto her.

Finally, Mother Superior sighed quietly.

“You will not go alone.”

“I don’t need—”

“You will go with Sister Agnes.”

Argument rose instinctively inside Natasha before she forced it down.

“…Yes, Mother.”

Sister Agnes looked far from pleased.

The following night, they descended together carrying lanterns and scripture.

Natasha remained acutely aware of Agnes beside her the entire time.

Every footstep.

Every nervous prayer.

Every trembling breath.

Nothing happened.

The corridor remained silent.

Empty.

The doors locked normally. The shadows stayed motionless against stone walls.

No extinguished flames.

No presence.

No horns waiting in darkness.

Sister Agnes nearly laughed in relief by the time they returned upstairs.

“You see?” she said shakily. “Storm nerves. Fear spreads easily.”

Natasha said nothing.

Because the entire time they had walked below, she had felt it.

Watching from somewhere deeper in the dark.

Waiting patiently until she returned alone.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You are a prodigy. There's no other word for it — not when you graduated Stanford Med at twenty-four, not when you completed your residency at Georgetown University Hospital with recommendations that made seasoned physicians twice your age look mediocre by comparison. You’ve challenged men who literally tower over your frame, men who dismissed you with condescending smiles until you diagnosed what three other doctors missed. Men who learned, quickly, that height means nothing when you're brilliant.

You did what your father insisted — got the degree, made his considerable investment count, became one of the best cardiologists in the country before most people finish figuring out their lives. The pride in his voice when he introduces you at dinner parties makes your skin crawl.

So out of pure, delicious spite, you accepted the one job that would make your uptight, country-club family absolutely lose their minds: official doctor for the WWE.

The look on your father's face when you told him was worth every penny of that Stanford tuition.

Now you sit at your medical station — hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that makes you look even younger than you are, curious eyes that still light up at interesting cases — and wrestlers twice your size shuffle in with injuries they're trying to downplay. You've been mistaken for an intern at least six times this month. Some of them see the petite frame, the neat clothes, the loving smile you've perfected over years of bedside manner, and think "easy."

They learn.

You don't do men. Never have. You're everything one would expect from a nerdy, well-educated girl who spent her teenage years in libraries instead of parties: polite to a fault, laser-focused on work, with a gentle demeanor that puts patients at ease.

Which makes your current problem so much worse.

Rhea Ripley is chaos in fishnet and leather.

The wrestler is everything you shouldn't want and absolutely do. Tall — so tall you have to tilt your head back to meet her eyes, which does something to your brain chemistry you refuse to examine. Muscular in ways that make your mouth go dry when she flexes. Beautiful in that devastating, dangerous way that feels like standing too close to a fire. Gothic aesthetic that speaks to every forbidden thing you pretended not to want in high school — all leather and fishnet and dark confidence.

Dark hair that you want to run your fingers through. Pretty blue eyes that pin you in place like a butterfly in a collection. And honestly, all those piercings and tattoos make it really, really hard for you to think straight when she's around. The tongue piercing especially. You try not to stare at it. You fail constantly.

It's so unfair.

And Rhea seems to enjoy that.

She started visiting the medical office a lot. For anything, really.

"Doc." The door opens without knocking — it never does with her — and Rhea fills the doorway like she was designed specifically to make your heart malfunction. "Hit my head pretty hard out there. Think you should check for concussion."

You glance up from your paperwork, and your pen nearly rolls off the desk. She's still in her ring gear — leather and fishnets and all that skin — with a light sheen of sweat that catches the fluorescent lights. Her hair is slightly messed from the match, eye makeup smudged in a way that should look disheveled but instead looks effortlessly hot.

This is unfair. This is so unfair.

"Let me see." Your voice comes out steadier than you feel, and you're proud of that. You gesture to the examination table, reaching for your penlight with practiced efficiency.

Rhea moves — and God, the way she moves, all liquid confidence and barely contained power — hopping up onto the table with ease that makes the muscles in her arms flex. You are a professional. You are a trained physician. You are absolutely not staring at her biceps.

"Where did you hit it?" You step closer, and immediately her scent hits you — sweat and leather and something darker, more expensive. Perfume, maybe. Or maybe she just naturally smells like every bad decision you've ever wanted to make.

"Right here." Her hand comes up, fingers threading through her dark hair to indicate a spot on her temple. But she's watching you, not her own hand. Those blue eyes track every micro-expression on your face with unnerving focus. "Took a pretty nasty bump. Thought I should let the best doctor in the building take a look."

The compliment makes warmth bloom in your chest. Stop it.

You reach up — and you have to reach up, she's so much taller even sitting down — fingers gentle as you part her hair to examine the area. Your gloves are on, professional barrier in place, but you can still feel the warmth of her scalp. "I don't see any visible trauma. Does this hurt?" You apply gentle pressure.

"Mm." The sound she makes is ambiguous. "Maybe check again? Just to be thorough."

You check again. Because you're thorough. Not because she asked in that low voice that does things to your concentration.

Three days later: "Doc, I think my ribs hurt. That spear looked brutal, right? Probably should get an X-ray or something."

You press carefully along her ribcage, counting, feeling for displacement or fracture. She's not wearing her leather top this time — just a sports bra that should be illegal in a medical setting — and you can feel the defined muscle under your hands, the way her breathing shifts when you hit certain spots.

"Does this hurt?" You press a little firmer on the left side.

"Yeah." But she's smiling, that dangerous smile with the dark lipstick that you're starting to see in your dreams. "Maybe a little lower? Think it might be worse there."

It's not. You check anyway. Professional obligation.

The following week: "My finger twisted during that finish. The Riptide, you know? Think you should tape it up for me."

You examine the finger in question — her right index, already wrapped in the tape from the match. There's no swelling. No discoloration. Full range of motion when you test it gently.

"Ms. Ripley." You look up at her, and that's a mistake, because she's very close and very focused on you and your brain short-circuits for a solid three seconds. "Your finger is fine."

"You sure, Doc?" She flexes it experimentally, and the movement draws your attention to her hands. Large hands. Strong hands. Hands with rings on several fingers that you definitely should not be thinking about. "Feels a little weak. Maybe you should check again."

"I've checked three times."

"Fourth time's the charm?"

You try to maintain professional composure. You're failing, and you both know it, but you try.

"Is there an actual injury," you ask, slowly, carefully, "or are you just coming here to waste my time?"

The smile that spreads across her face is absolutely wicked. "Would I do that, Doc?"

"Yes."

"Fair." She doesn't move from the examination table. Doesn't stop looking at you with those pretty blue eyes that make your stomach flip. "Maybe I just like having your hands on me, Doc. Ever think of that?"

Your brain makes a sound like a computer crashing. "I — that's — you can't just — "

"Can't just what?" She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and now she's at your eye level and even closer. The tongue piercing glints when she speaks. "Say what I'm thinking? Come on, Doctor..." Her eyes flick to your ID badge, "...you're smart enough to know why I keep coming here."

You were always trying to keep it professional. But it's getting harder and harder — especially when she looks at you like that, like she's thinking about doing decidedly unprofessional things and doesn't care who knows it.

"You need to stop," you whisper, and you're not sure if you're talking to her or yourself. Your hands are still holding hers, you realize. When did that happen? "I could lose my job."

"For what?" Her thumb brushes across your knuckles, barely there, technically innocent. "I'm just making sure I get the best medical care available. Can't help it if the best doctor happens to be absolutely gorgeous."

Your face is on fire. Actually on fire. You're going to spontaneously combust right here in the medical office and they'll find nothing but a pile of ash and a stethoscope.

But she’s already coming down from your examination table, smiling bright. 

“See you later, Doc.” And then she's gone. Leaving only her dark and delicious scent behind.

(…)

It's just another day.

Another shift in this fluorescent-lit office that smells like antiseptic and the faint musk of athletic tape. Another parade of bodies that treat pain like a suggestion rather than a warning. You've taking care of the patient you had to take care of — some big guy named Bert who somehow managed to hit his head on the ring floor during what he insisted on calling "just another Tuesday." The gash wasn't deep, thankfully, but head wounds bleed like a bitch and he'd looked pale enough that you'd made him sit still for a full thirty minutes while you cleaned and dressed it properly.

Then he'd started getting a little too convinced — voice dropping to what he probably thought was a seductive register.

“Come on, sweetie. Just a drink after work. I’m sure you could use it.” He's smiling and you wish you could roll your eyes.

"That's a no, Bert," you'd said firmly, snapping off your gloves with perhaps more force than strictly necessary. "Take these aftercare instructions, follow them, and get lost."

He'd been mid-protest, some speech about how he was a nice guy and you should give him a chance, when the door swung open without so much as a courtesy knock.

Rhea.

She walks in — all sweaty from her match, eyeliner slightly smudged at the corners, hair wild, smile absolutely radiant — striding into your office as if she'd been personally invited. As if she owns the space and you're just borrowing it.

"Hey, man." Her voice carries that particular quality of amused disdain she reserves for men who don't know when to quit. She doesn't even look at him, eyes fixed on you instead, and there's something possessive in her gaze that makes your stomach flip. "You're going to have to step over my dead body to get our doll here to go out with you before I do."

The endearment — our doll — hits you like a physical thing. Your face flames instantly, heat crawling up your neck and spreading across your cheeks in what must be an absolutely mortifying display.

The big guy actually laughs, seemingly unbothered, and claps Rhea on the shoulder as he passes. "Didn't know the doc was already taken, Ripley. My bad." He shoots you a wink. "Good luck with this one."

And then he's gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a decisive click that feels far too final.

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts, crossing your arms over your chest in what you hope looks like annoyance rather than the defensive gesture it actually is. "I'm not spoken for," you mutter, more to the room than to her. "Jesus Christ. Working with a bunch of brainless brutes is stressful."

Rhea leans against your examination table — your examination table, the one you've been working at for months, and somehow she makes it look like a throne — and the smile that spreads across her face is absolutely devastating. Her black lipstick is still flawless despite the match, not a smudge or crack in sight. Purple eyeshadow brings out her blue eyes in a way that should be illegal. She's still in her ring gear — all leather and fishnets and carefully calculated chaos — looking like the beautiful, disastrous mess that she is.

And she's looking at you like you're something to be devoured.

"Don't I deserve an award for my victory tonight?" Her voice is playful, teasing, but there's an edge underneath that makes your pulse quicken. "Took down Charlotte clean. One, two, three."

You snort — an inelegant sound that would make your mother despair — and busy yourself organizing supplies that don't need organizing. Anything to avoid looking directly at her. "You're lucky you still have a whole skull after that moonsault. I saw the replay. That landing was sloppy."

"Sloppy?" She sounds genuinely offended now, and you risk a glance up to find her actually pouting. It's even more disconcerting when she's still all made up like this, still dressed like she could step back into the ring at any moment. The contrast between the dangerous exterior and the almost childish expression is doing something complicated to your brain chemistry. "That was art, Doc. Pure art."

"That was a concussion waiting to happen," you counter, but your voice has lost its sharp edge. "You're reckless."

"I'm effective." She pushes off the table, takes a step closer. You should move. You should maintain professional distance. You should —  "Don't I at least deserve dinner with the good doctor for such a beautiful fight? My treat. Anywhere you want."

The offer hangs in the air between you, tempting and dangerous and everything you shouldn't want.

But you're on shift. You're supposed to be professional. You've spent years building walls between yourself and anything that might make you lose control, and this — she — is a wrecking ball aimed directly at your foundation.

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm working."

"Hmm." Rhea doesn't look discouraged. If anything, her smile widens, sharp and knowing. She tilts her head, studying you like you're a puzzle she's enjoying solving. "That's fine. I can wait."

There's something in her tone — a certainty, a confidence that borders on arrogance — that makes you bristle. "Wait for what, exactly?"

She takes another step closer. You're acutely aware that you've somehow backed yourself toward the wall, that the examination table is blocking any easy escape route. Trapped. You're trapped in your own office with a woman who looks like every fantasy you've ever had and a few you didn't know you were allowed to have.

"Eventually," Rhea says, voice dropping to something lower, rougher, "they all end up in the same place."

Your mouth is dry. Your palms are sweating. Your brain — your brilliant, Stanford-educated, prodigy brain — has apparently left the building entirely because all you can do is stare at her and ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"What place is that?"

Rhea moves so quickly you don't have time to react. One moment she's three feet away, the next she's right there, so close you can feel the heat radiating off her skin, can smell leather and sweat and whatever that dark, spicy scent is that clings to her. Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, and she doesn't touch you — doesn't lay a single finger on you — but you're caged anyway, trapped between cold plaster and the furnace of her presence.

She leans in, lips so close to your ear that you feel more than hear her next words.

"Underneath me." Her breath is hot against your skin, and you actually shiver. "Begging me to stop."

A laugh escapes you — humorless, shocked, your face so red you can feel the heat radiating off your own cheeks. Your heart is hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape, and you're pretty sure if you checked your own pulse right now it would be dangerously elevated.

"You're — " Your voice cracks embarrassingly. You swallow hard, try again. "You're going to be disappointed then, Ms. Ripley."

Because you're not that girl. You've never been that girl. You're careful and controlled and you don't do spontaneous or reckless or anything that might result in you losing your grip on the perfectly constructed life you've built.

Except Rhea's still there, still so close, and when she pulls back just enough to look at you — really look at you, blue eyes dark and intense and focused entirely on your face — the smile that curves her lips is absolutely wicked.

"Will I now, Doc?"

It's not really a question. It's a challenge.

And God help you, but something in your chest responds to it like a match to gasoline.

Your breath hitches — a sharp, audible inhale that sounds far too loud in the suddenly too-small space of your office. You should say something. Should push her away. Should remind her that this is wildly inappropriate and you're at work and she's technically a patient and there are approximately seven thousand reasons why this cannot happen.

But then Rhea's hand comes up — slow, deliberate, giving you every opportunity to stop this — and her fingers trace along your jawline with a gentleness that seems completely at odds with everything else about her. The touch is feather-light, almost reverent, and it makes every nerve ending in your body stand at attention.

"Tell me to stop," she murmurs, and there's something in her voice now that wasn't there before. Something serious beneath the teasing. "Tell me to stop and I will, Doc. I promise."

You open your mouth. The word "stop" should come out. It's right there, sitting on your tongue, ready to restore sanity and professional boundaries and everything that makes sense in your carefully ordered world.

What comes out instead is…

"I — "

She kisses you.

Oh.

Oh, that's — that's not — you can't — 

Rhea Ripley is kissing you, and your brain simply ceases to function. It's not gentle, not tentative, not any of the things a first kiss is supposed to be according to the romance novels you definitely don't read during overnight shifts. It's claiming and confident and absolutely devastating. Her lips are softer than you imagined — and God, you've imagined, lying in bed at night trying desperately not to — and she tastes like mint and something darker, something that makes your head spin.

Her hand slides from your jaw into your hair, fingers tangling in the ponytail you'd tied so carefully this morning, and she angles your head exactly how she wants it. Taking control. Taking everything.

You make a sound — something between a whimper and a moan that you'll be mortified about later — and feel her smile against your mouth.

"There she is," Rhea breathes against your lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "There's my girl."

My girl. The possessiveness in those words does something catastrophic to your ability to think clearly.

She kisses you again, deeper this time, and your hands — traitorous things that they are — come up to clutch at her shoulders. You can feel the muscle beneath, still warm from her match, slightly damp with sweat. You should be disgusted. You're a doctor, you know about hygiene and bacteria and all the reasons this is a terrible idea.

Instead, you dig your fingers in harder and kiss her back like you're drowning and she's oxygen.

Rhea makes a pleased sound low in her throat — a rumble you feel more than hear — and then her hand is leaving your hair, trailing down your neck with deliberate slowness. Her fingers trace your collarbone through your medical scrubs, and even through the fabric the touch burns.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, and whatever she sees on your face makes her eyes darken. "Open your mouth, baby."

Your brain catches up for half a second. "What — "

But she's already moving, and somehow — somehow — her fingers are at your lips. Two fingers, index and middle, pressing gently against your bottom lip.

"Open," she repeats, and the command in her voice is undeniable.

You shouldn't. This is insane. This is so far beyond appropriate that you can't even see appropriate anymore, it's just a distant speck on the horizon of terrible decisions you're making.

Your lips part.

"Good girl," Rhea breathes, and the praise sends a jolt straight through you, lighting up neurons you didn't even know you had. Her fingers slide into your mouth — slowly, giving you time to adjust, to pull away if you want to. They taste like leather and salt and something uniquely her.

"Suck," she instructs, voice low and rough and absolutely wrecked, and oh God, you do.

Your lips close around her fingers and you suck obediently, hollowing your cheeks, and the sound she makes — this choked-off groan that seems to come from deep in her chest — makes you feel powerful in a way you've never experienced. You, the nerdy doctor who looks twelve, bringing a woman like her to her knees.

Well. Metaphorically. She's still very much standing, still very much in control, and her free hand — 

Her free hand is suddenly on your hip, gripping hard enough that you feel it through your scrubs, and then her leg is moving between yours. Pressing. Pushing your legs apart with confident pressure until her thigh is flush against you, exactly where you're suddenly aching.

"Fuck," you try to say around her fingers, but it comes out muffled and desperate.

Rhea's grin is absolutely feral. "That's it, Doc. Just like that." She pushes her thigh harder against you, and you can't stop the way your hips jerk forward, seeking friction, seeking more, seeking anything she's willing to give. "Look at you. So fucking pretty when you're desperate."

Desperate. You're desperate. You've somehow become the kind of person who would dry-hump a wrestler's leg in your office during work hours while sucking on her fingers like — like — 

Her fingers slide deeper, almost to the back of your throat, testing your limits, and you take it. Your eyes water slightly but you take it, and the absolutely wrecked expression on Rhea's face makes it worth it.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters, and her accent is thicker now, rougher. "You're going to be the death of me."

She's building a rhythm now — her thigh pressing between your legs, her fingers sliding in and out of your mouth in a mockery of something else entirely, and you're trembling. Actually trembling. Your legs are shaking, your hands are fisted in her top so hard you might actually tear the fabric, and you're making sounds that would humiliate you if you had any capacity left for shame.

You don't.

Shame has left the building along with common sense and professional ethics.

Your hips are moving on their own now, grinding against her thigh with increasingly desperate movements, chasing something you can feel building in your core like a tightening coil. You're close. You're actually close, in your office, in the middle of your shift, with Rhea Ripley's fingers in your mouth and her leg between yours and — 

She stops.

Everything stops.

Her fingers slide out of your mouth with an obscene wet sound. Her leg moves away, leaving you suddenly, devastatingly empty. Her hands leave your body entirely, and the loss of contact is so abrupt it's almost painful.

You make a sound — a whine, high and pathetic and so needy it should embarrass you.

Rhea steps back. One step. Two. Putting distance between you with visible effort, her chest heaving, her pupils blown so wide her eyes look black.

"What — " Your voice is wrecked, hoarse in a way that has nothing to do with medical explanations. "Why did you — "

"Because," Rhea says, and her voice is strained, rough, like every word costs her something, "if I don't stop now, I'm going to fuck you on that examination table, and you deserve better than that for our first time."

First time. The implication that there will be others makes your stomach flip.

She's backing toward the door now, never taking her eyes off you. You're still against the wall, legs trembling, face flushed, lips swollen and wet. You must look absolutely destroyed, and from the way she's looking at you — hungry and possessive and barely controlled — that's exactly what she wanted.

"I'll pick you up at eight," she says, hand on the door handle. "Wear something nice. Or don't. Actually, don't care what you wear. I'm taking you to dinner, and then — " She stops herself, jaw clenching. "Eight o'clock, Doc. Don't make me wait."

And then she's gone.

The door closes behind her with a soft click, and you're left alone in your office — trembling, worked up, so desperately aroused you can barely think straight. Your lips are swollen, sensitive. You can still taste her on your tongue. Between your legs, you're wet, aching, throbbing with unfulfilled need.

Your phone buzzes. A text message.

Unknown Number: This is Rhea. Don't even THINK about finishing without me. I'll know. See you at 8, baby. -R

You stare at the message. Look down at yourself — at your wrinkled scrubs, your unsteady hands, the visible tremor in your legs.

What in the actual…

"Fuck," you whisper to the empty room.

You have four more hours on your shift.

It's going to be the longest four hours of your entire life.

authors note: this is my first masterlist and i cannot emphasize enough that i do not know what i'm doing!! but! it will be updated as we go. regardless, thank you for enjoying it as much as i have enjoyed writing it <3

tags will be listed on each part ✨

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

part vi

part vii

part viii

part ix

part x

part xi

part xii

part xiii

part xiv

part xv

part xvi - coming soon!

you can also find me on ao3 - persephonesbarnes 🌙

You tried to push the thought away– tried to hold onto something, anything. But the longer you sat in the dark, the more your grip began to slip.

The exhaustion was too deep now, sinking into your bones. Your head lulled slightly to the side, the weight of it too much to hold up.

The bruises, the cuts, the ache deep in your ribs– it all blended together. Pain had been a constant companion for days now, so much so that it felt like a part of you. Like breathing. Like blinking.

You could barely tell where one wound ended and another began.

Your thoughts blurred. Memories twisted. The shadows in the corners of the room moved if you looked at them too long. The cold stone beneath you began to feel softer, warmer. Your lashes fluttered, too heavy.

If you just closed your eyes for a moment…

Just a moment.

The dark wasn’t so bad.

It was quiet here. It pressed down on you, seeping into your skin, curling around your ribs like a vice. The air was thick– too thick. Damp. Heavy with something bitter, metallic.

Smoke?

Your vision was swimming, the blurred edges of the room warping into something else entirely. Dirt. Packed thick beneath your fingernails. Filling your nose, your mouth. The damp walls of the cellar blurred, shifted– it became stone. Then it became the earth.

Somewhere, in the distance, you heard the muffled crack of an explosion. The ground beneath you shuddered, and for a moment, your breath hitched as panic clawed up your throat. 

No, not here. Not again.

Your fingers twitched against your restraints, but the movement only sent a sharp, splintering pain up your arms. You barely registered it. Your mind was already slipping further, dragging you back.

Back to the war.

Back to the moment everything collapsed.

The tunnel shook violently, a deep, shuddering roar of earth breaking apart. Someone screamed, sharp, panicked, before it was swallowed by the dust.

You were thrown against the dirt wall, your ears ringing so loud the world became muffled. Your lungs burned, choking on the thick air, dust coating the inside of your throat.

Move. Get up. Get to them.

Your body responded before your mind caught up, your hands blindly searching through the darkness, the only source of light now a dim, flickering lantern hanging from a bent nail in the wooden beams overhead.

Men were buried.

Buried alive.

You could hear the groans, the coughing, the desperate scraping of fingers against dirt. But one voice cut through it all.

Sharp. Ragged.

“Get the fuck off me–”

Your stomach lurched as you stumbled toward the sound.

And then you saw him.

You didn’t know it at the time, but Thomas Shelby laid, pinned beneath a collapsed beam, his face half-covered in blood and dirt. His breaths were ragged, sharp, labored. 

A different kind of panic surged through you.

You dropped to your knees, hands immediately pressing against his shoulder, assessing the damage. “You’re alright,” you murmured, voice hoarse. “Just hold still.”

Tommy let out a rough, breathless laugh. “Not sure I’d call this alright, love,” he had said. 

Your fingers trembled as they ghosted over his side, pressing against the warmth of blood soaking through his uniform. You forced yourself to focus.

The tunnel was still shifting, the wooden supports creaking under the pressure, dirt spilling from the cracks above. You didn’t have time.

A sharp snap jolted through the air– another support beam groaning, giving way.

You grabbed the front of Tommy’s uniform and shook him. “We have to move. Now.”

He gritted his teeth, trying to push himself up, but the pain hit him fast. His body tensed, his jaw locking, his breath coming too sharp.

Your hands pressed against his ribs, trying to still him. "You're bleeding."

He let out a low huff, the ghost of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips despite the blood smeared there. “Well, you’re the nurse.”

The tunnel groaned again.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t think. You just moved. Hooking your hands under his arm, you heaved, ignoring the burning in your muscles, the way the earth beneath you shook as more dirt rained down.

Tommy let out a strangled groan, his body half-collapsing against you as you pulled him free.

And then, a deafening crack. The lantern snapped from its post, shattering against the ground. The sounds of earth groaning, collapsing. The shouts of men, frantic and panicked. The crushing weight of dirt swallowing everything whole. And the tunnel went dark. 

Suddenly, you felt a sharp, stinging slap across your cheek. 

Your breath hitched, your body tensing on instinct, but your limbs were too weak to react. The pain in your ribs burned, sharp and unrelenting, as your vision swam back into the dimly lit room. Not in France. 

Campbell loomed above you, his lips curling into something cold. “Still with me?” he murmured, tilting his head.

You blinked slowly, your mind still half-stuck somewhere else, the sound of collapsing dirt still echoing in your ears.

Campbell hummed, brushing his fingers against his coat. “Thought I lost you there for a moment.”

Your stomach churned. Because for a brief second, you wished he had. 

Your body felt like it was failing. Not just from the beatings, not just from the bruises blooming beneath your skin like storm clouds. Something deeper. Hot. Burning.

Every breath hurt. A dull, twisting agony settled in your ribs, making it harder and harder to fill your lungs. Campbell was still speaking, still taunting, but his voice was distant, warped like sound traveling through water.

Your head lolled slightly against the back of the chair, your vision flickering at the edges.

A fever. Possibly an infection. 

Campbell sighed, stepping closer, his shadow stretching across the dimly lit room. “Oh, dear,” he murmured, feigning concern. “You don’t look well.”

You forced yourself to swallow, but even that made your throat ache.

He crouched slightly, examining you like an animal on display. “You can feel it, can’t you?” His voice dipped lower. “The way your body is starting to shut down?”

Your stomach twisted, nausea rolling in sharp waves. You clenched your jaw. You wouldn’t answer him.

Campbell hummed, as if your silence only amused him further. “I have to say, you lasted longer than I expected. I’ll give you that.” He straightened, adjusting his coat. 

Campbell let out a soft tsk. “And here I thought we had more time together.” He leaned down, his voice dropping into something mockingly gentle. 

A sharp wave of dizziness crashed over you. The room tilted. Your ribs screamed in protest as your body lurched, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you gasped for air. 

Campbell smirked. “Oh, my dear,” he sighed, shaking his head. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”

He tapped two fingers against your bruised cheek, his touch mocking, cruel. “What do you think? A few more hours? Another day? What will give out first?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with delight. “Your body or your mind?”

Campbell sighed, as if bored. “Not much left in you now, is there?” His fingers drifted to your pulse point, pressing just enough to feel the weak, rapid flutter beneath your skin. “I wonder how much longer this little heart of yours will keep going before it just–”

Suddenly, a sharp thud echoed from outside the door, causing Campbell to still. 

His head tilted slightly toward the sound. Another noise. A shuffle of boots. A low murmur.

Campbell exhaled through his nose, straightening his coat as he stepped away from you. His eyes flickered toward his men– two of them, positioned near the walls.

One of them, a burly man with a scar splitting his lip, turned toward the door, brows furrowing. “You expecting someone, sir?”

Campbell shook his head. “No. Go look.”

The two men near the wall exchanged a look before nodding, moving toward the door with practiced caution.

The cold air rushed in as one of them cracked the door open, peering into the dimly lit corridor beyond. You could hear the faint shuffle of movement outside, something just out of reach, something not quite right. They slipped through the door, their shadows stretching long against the floor. 

A long, tense silence followed. But it was quickly interrupted by a gunshot– sharp, violent, deafening.

Your sluggish, fevered mind barely processed it before another one followed.

Then another. Closer this time. Shouts erupted from the corridor– panicked, frantic, then cut short.

Campbell’s entire posture stiffened. His gaze flicked toward the door, then to you, calculation spinning behind his eyes. 

Then, he moved.

Before you could react, before your battered body could even try to resist, his hand fisted in the collar of your shirt and yanked you forward. 

A sharp, searing pain exploded in your ribs, your legs buckling under the weight of your own body as Campbell hauled you out of the chair. 

A sharp, metallic click rang in your ears, the sound of a revolver being cocked. And then, the cold, unmistakable press of steel against your ribs.

He barely let you find your footing before dragging you toward the back entrance.

“Change of plans,” he muttered, voice tight with something dark. “Walk,” he ordered, his grip tightening, the barrel of the gun digging harder into your side.

Your boots scraped against the floor, legs barely cooperating as he kept moving, his grip unyielding, brutal.

Your vision swam, the fever weighing you down like molten iron, but you understood.

He wasn’t going to let you be found. 

He was taking you with him.

The hallway was long and dimly lit, the flickering light from an overhead bulb casting warped shadows against the damp, crumbling walls.

Campbell dragged you forward, his grip iron-tight, fingers digging painfully into your upper arm as he pulled you through the corridor. Your legs barely cooperated, heavy and sluggish beneath you, the fever turning your body into something unresponsive, something weak.

You stumbled, your boots scuffing against the floor again. He let out a sharp snarl of frustration.

“Keep up,” he snapped, jerking you forward so hard your vision blurred.

You tried– tried to force your feet to move faster, tried to keep pace, but your body wasn’t working the way it should, your ribs screaming with every step.

You tripped again, your knees nearly buckling. Campbell let out a curse and yanked you forward.

“Useless,” he hissed. “Absolutely fucking useless.”

Before you could brace for it, he shoved open the back door, the damp night air crashing into you like a wave of ice.

The alley beyond the mill was narrow and dark, the air thick with the smell of wet brick and sewage. The second your boots hit the pavement, your legs gave out. Your body collapsed to the ground, hitting the cold stone with a dull thud. You barely had time to breathe before Campbell’s rage erupted.

“Get up!” he bellowed, his voice sharp, enraged, echoing off the alley walls.

You tried to push yourself up, but your arms trembled violently beneath you, the fever and exhaustion dragging you down.

A shadow loomed over you. Then, a hand fisting in the back of your shirt. He yanked you up with brutal force, your body jerking limply in his grip. The sudden motion sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you, the fever making your vision swim.

And then– a blinding, shattering pain as Campbell slammed your entire body against the back alley wall. Before you could brace yourself, your head snapped whipped to the side, colliding with stone. 

A sharp crack echoed in the side of your skull, white-hot agony splintering through your mind. Your body seized, the impact sending a violent shockwave through you. For a moment, everything flickered. The world blurred, warped, then tilted sideways. 

Your ears rang. The taste of copper flooded your mouth. Somewhere in the distance, Campbell was saying something. Laughing. Mocking. But you couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even tell if you were still upright or if you’d already started to collapse.

A slow, creeping warmth trickled down your temple, thick and wet– blood. 

Campbell was on top of you before you could even react, his weight pressing you down into the pavement. The fear was worse than the pain. 

“Ah,” Campbell murmured, his breath hot against your face, his hand pinning your shoulder down hard. “So this is how you want to play it?”

Your chest rose and fell too fast, panic clawing at your throat. And your head– God, there was a brutal, relentless pounding throbbed at the base of your skull, each pulse like a hammer driving nails into your brain.  

The nausea curled hot and sour in your stomach, your vision tilting, shifting, like the ground itself was unstable beneath you. 

He let out a low, breathy chuckle, shifting his weight deliberately against you. 

“You always were stubborn,” he murmured, voice mockingly soft as he pressed you further into the ground.

Then, his other hand moved. Lower. Fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt.

And then– a sharp, violent tear. The sound ripped through the night, a shock of cold air hitting your skin as the fabric split beneath his grasp. You struggled, grasping at the ground, your body desperately trying to fight back, but he was too strong.

His knees caged you in, his weight an immovable force. The smell of whiskey and sweat and gunpowder filled your nose. 

And then– you felt him. Hard. Pressing against you. 

Your lungs seized. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

No.

A wave of sickening nausea rolled through you, worse than the fever, worse than the pain. It was raw, visceral, a deep, twisting horror in your gut. Panic exploded in your chest, clawing at your ribs, making your breath come in short, desperate gasps.

You thrashed– screamed. But exhaustion and sickness kept you pinned.

Campbell just laughed. His weight shifted, his hips pressing harder against you, grinding down just enough for you to feel the shape of him through his trousers.

Your stomach turned.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, his fingers dragging slowly, deliberately over exposed skin. “You should’ve learned by now, I like it when you struggle.”

A choked sob caught in your throat. “Get off of me!” you screamed, with everything you had left. 

Campbell leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Fight all you want,” he murmured, grinding his hips against yours again, pressing you further into the ground. “No one is coming for you.”

Your body betrayed you, freezing, seizing up. Your heartbeat hammered against your ribs, a wild, erratic drumbeat of terror and helplessness, but you couldn't move. Your vision blurred, spots of darkness creeping into the edges.

You wished for it.

For death.

For an end.

Because this– this was worse. Because this was the moment that would break you.

And if Tommy really wasn’t coming, if no one was coming– 

You didn’t want to survive it.

As Campbell’s hands pressed harder, as his hot breath ghosted against your throat, as he ground his body against yours– for the first time since the war, you prayed.

Not for rescue.

Not for mercy.

For the darkness to take you before he could.

But fate had other plans.

Because the gunshot rang out before the darkness could take you– A brutal, deafening crack ripped through the night.

Campbell’s entire body jerked violently.

Blood splattered warm across your face.

The force of the bullet sent him reeling, his body twisting as he collapsed onto the ground beside you, his weight finally off you.

You sucked in a ragged breath, chest heaving, trying to scramble away, but your body barely cooperated. Your ribs screamed in protest, your vision swam, and you barely managed to drag yourself back a few inches, your torn clothes hanging off your trembling frame.

Your breath was still coming too fast, too shallow, panic coiling tight in your gut.

John Shelby stood at the edge of the alley, gun still raised, his chest rising and falling sharply. 

“I got him!” he yelled back toward the street, voice urgent, shaken. “I fucking got him!”

Then, John’s eyes landed on you, and his expression shifted into a look of pure horror.

Before you could react, Campbell let out a wet, guttural wheeze. He was still alive. He lay on his back beside you, blood pooling beneath him, his lips parting as he sputtered, a faint, broken chuckle escaping through the pain.

Your body shook, too weak to move further, too weak to do anything but stare. Your head throbbed violently, the relentless pounding deep in your skull making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Warmth trickled down your face, sticky and thick, pooling at your brow, slipping into your lashes. Blood.

Yours. His.

You couldn’t tell whose was whose at this point. But it blurred your vision, staining everything red, the world twisting in and out of focus.

Campbell gurgled beside you, sputtering, his own life spilling out onto the ground.

And then– you vaguely heard another pair of footsteps. Your vision swam as you tried to process what was happening.

But Tommy moved past you without a word, his boots splashing through Campbell’s blood. And then– he was on him. Tommy dropped to his knees, straddling Campbell’s chest, and the first punch landed hard. 

A sickening crack. Then another. And another.

Campbell’s head jerked violently with every hit, his body already too weak to resist, but Tommy didn’t stop.

His knuckles split, blood smearing across his skin, but the pain didn’t register. Only rage. Only vengeance.

Punch after brutal punch, his body moving with sheer force, years of fury and hatred pouring into every single blow. Campbell coughed, his chest rattling, but the laughter was gone now.

Tommy didn’t stop– he didn’t hear the voices shouting behind him.

Just like you didn’t hear John moving toward you. Not until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

The instant his touch met your skin, you flinched violently, every nerve in your body igniting with panic.

“Get off me!”

Your voice was wrecked, hoarse, barely more than a raw, desperate gasp. 

Instinct overruled recognition. It didn’t matter who it was. Didn’t matter that the danger was gone.

All your body knew was fear.

John immediately pulled back, his hands up, his face twisted with something between concern and horror. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” he said quickly, voice low, soothing. “It’s just me, yeah?”

But your body wouldn’t stop trembling. “J-John?” you whispered.  

He nodded slowly, causing your breath to hitch. It was a sharp, ragged sound. John stared at you– helpless. Because even though he was right there, even though you were safe now, you sure as hell didn’t feel safe.

Before you could apologize for shouting at him, Arthur was rushing over, breath coming heavy, taking in the scene before him in one sharp glance.

Tommy was still on top of Campbell, still swinging, his knuckles covered in blood, Campbell’s and his own.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the back of Tommy’s coat and hauled him off.

“Enough, Tom. He’s gone!” Arthur barked, his grip tight, unyielding. “It’s done! It’s fucking done!”

Tommy struggled, still burning with rage, his body coiled so tight he was shaking.

And then, through the chaos, he heard you just as you let out a choked, broken sob.

The sound cut through him like a blade. His body stilled. And for the first time since he entered the alley, he turned. 

The second Tommy saw you, bleeding, trembling, gasping for breath, everything else ceased to exist. 

He rushed to you, dropping to his knees so fast the gravel scraped against his boots.

You were barely sitting up, your arms shaking under your own weight, your ripped clothes hanging loose. Your chest heaved, every breath sounding like a struggle, your eyes wide, unfocused. And your head– a relentless, pounding ache throbbed behind your eyes, radiating from the gash at your temple, the warmth of fresh blood slipping down the side of your face.

The pain was blinding, suffocating, like your skull was splitting open with every ragged breath you took. 

The world tilted, the edges blurring, but then– Tommy’s hands found your face, cradling it gently, his thumbs skimming over your bruised, bloodied skin, his own fingers shaking.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice was low, urgent, breaking at the edges. “Where are you hurt?”

You just stared at him. Mouth parted. Silent. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form words. Couldn’t breathe through the wreckage of everything that had just happened.

Your body shook violently.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, panicked.

His hands swept lower, skimming down your arms, across your ribs. His eyes scanned you, sharp, assessing, taking in every injury, every wound, every fucking thing Campbell had done.

And then– his gaze caught on the blood trailing down the side of your face.

His jaw tightened. Gently, carefully, he reached up, his fingers threading into your hair. You barely reacted, too exhausted, too lost in the haze of pain and fever.

Tommy’s fingers found the gash hidden beneath your hairline, and when he brushed against it, you winced.

His breath came sharp, uneven. “Shit,” he murmured, his thumb ghosting over the wound, careful not to press too hard.

The blood was still fresh, still warm, mixing with the dried streaks smeared across your skin– his blood, your blood, Campbell’s blood.

He swallowed hard, his grip gentler now, soothing.

His voice softened, just slightly. “Love,” he murmured, so quiet, like he was afraid you’d break apart completely. “I need you to tell me where it hurts.”

Your lips trembled. You tried, tried so hard, but the words wouldn’t come. A choked, ragged croak escaped your lips instead. And then, you sobbed. Not loud. Not even fully. Just a small, broken sound, barely more than a breath.

And Tommy felt something inside him snap. Your sob barely left your lips before he was moving again. Carefully and deliberately, his arms slid beneath you, one under your knees, the other around your back, securing you against his chest. The second he lifted you, a sharp, searing pain tore through your ribs, and you let out a broken cry.

Tommy’s hold tightened instinctively. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair, his breath shaky, uneven. “I know. I’ve got you.”

You barely registered anything else– not the cold night air, not the distant sound of voices, not the way your torn clothes left you far too exposed.

Only him and his warmth, his heartbeat against your ear– the scent of gunpowder and whiskey and home. He tucked you closer, pressing your cheek to his collarbone, his jaw resting lightly against your temple. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice low, steady, even as his own hands trembled. “Let’s get you out of here.”

His grip never wavered as he turned toward his brothers. “Arthur, get the car around.”

Arthur nodded without hesitation, already moving, disappearing down the alley. 

Tommy’s gaze snapped to John. “Get rid of the body.”

John’s face was still stricken, pale, but he gave a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

And just like that, it was done.

Tommy didn’t wait. Didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate. He just walked. Carrying you out of the alley, away from the wreckage, away from everything Campbell had done to you.

For the first time in two days, you were leaving hell behind.

The car skidded to a stop in the road, the tires grinding against the wet cobblestone as Arthur threw it into park.

Tommy shifted your weight in his arms and carefully maneuvered you inside the cab, one hand bracing the back of your head as he lowered you onto the seat. The second your back hit the worn leather, a sharp burn tore through your ribs.

You let out a weak, pained whimper, your fingers gripping at nothing. 

Tommy grimaced. “I know, love,” he murmured, tucking his coat around you, his hands gentle despite the war still raging behind his eyes. “I know it hurts.”

His voice was soft, quiet, but his hands were steady as he pulled the car door shut beside you and settled in.

Arthur didn’t ask questions. He just pressed his foot to the gas, and the car lurched forward, pulling you both away from the alley, away from the blood, away from Campbell.

The city lights blurred past the window, but you could barely focus.

Everything hurt.

A relentless, burning pain curling under your ribs, along your bruised skin, up into your aching skull. Tommy’s hand found yours, his fingers wrapping around your weak grip.

His voice was low, firm. “I need you to stay awake, yeah?”

You blinked slowly, sluggishly. The fever was still there, your body aching, and the familiar pull of unconsciousness was beckoning, dragging you under.

Your head throbbed. The relentless pounding pulsated behind your eyes, radiating from the gash hidden beneath your hair. Everything felt heavy.

Your skull, your limbs, your chest, it was all too much.

The world tilted, the sounds around you muffled, distant, like you were already slipping away.

But then– Tommy’s fingers tightened. “Stay with me,” he said again, his voice rough with something he wasn’t ready to name.

You swallowed, tried to focus on him and breathe through the pain. But every inhale set your ribs on fire. Every bump in the road made your skull feel like it would explode. 

Tommy’s jaw clenched. “Tell me what’s hurting.”

Your lips parted, but it took a moment to force the words out.

“Head,” you murmured. 

His grip on your hand tightened slightly. You took another shallow breath.

“Ribs,” you rasped.

Tommy’s expression darkened. His throat worked as he swallowed. “What else?”

You were slipping, exhaustion weighing you down.

“Can’t–” Your breath hitched. “Can’t breathe deep.”

Tommy’s stomach twisted. He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to steady himself. Trying to stay in control.

You blinked sluggishly, the movement slow, wrong. The world was fading at the edges. Shapes weren’t holding. Shadows bled into one another.

And then, the realization hit.

A choked, panicked breath left your lips, your fingers grasping weakly at his coat.

“Tommy–” your voice was small, fractured.

His hand tightened around yours. “I’m right here.”

You swallowed, struggling to get the words out.

“I–” Your voice shook. “I can’t see.”

Tommy stilled.

The words hung between you, heavy, suffocating. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, your breath quicker now, uneven.

“I–” your fingers curled into his shirt, desperate. “It’s– it’s dark, I can’t–”

“Shh.” His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing over your temples. “It’s alright, love. You’re alright.”

But he was shaken. You could feel it in the way his hands trembled just slightly against your skin.

Tommy’s grip on you tightened. Not hard. Not painful. Anchoring.

But it didn’t matter– because you were slipping.

Your chest tightened, panic crawling up your throat like ivy.

“Tommy,” you whispered, voice fragile, breaking. “I’m scared–”

Tommy reacted instantly. His hands left your face and slammed against the front seat.

“Arthur. Drive faster.”

Arthur, still gripping the wheel, snapped his head toward the rear view mirror.

“Tom–”

“Drive the fucking car, Arthur!”

The urgency in Tommy’s voice was razor-sharp, slicing through whatever hesitation lingered in the air.

Arthur gritted his teeth, pressing his foot down hard.

The car lurched forward, tires grinding against wet cobblestone as they sped through the streets of Birmingham.

“Where the fuck am I going?” he asked.

Tommy barely looked at him.

His gaze was locked on you, on your pale face, on the blood that hadn’t stopped dripping from your temple.

His jaw clenched. “The bloody hospital.”

“Tom–” He hesitated, throwing a quick glance his way before shifting his focus back to the road. “You just killed a bloody police officer… You really think that’s a good idea?”

Tommy’s head snapped up.

His eyes were burning.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a good idea.” His voice was low, dangerous, barely contained. “She needs a hospital.”

Arthur muttered a curse under his breath, but he didn’t argue.

He just drove.

Tommy held you tighter, his grip firm but careful, like he thought you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

His touch was the only thing grounding you. His voice, low and steady, was just a murmur at the edge of your consciousness. You couldn’t make out the words anymore.

The pounding in your skull was pulling you under. The world was tilting, slipping.

Your eyes fluttered, your breath hitching as a deep, creeping tiredness settled into your bones.

And then– his touch. Tommy’s thumb brushed against your temple, rubbing soft, soothing circles into your skin.

A quiet comfort. A silent promise.

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