#bolona

“Ugh,” she scoffed, “you bitch.”

“Eat me,” she rolled her eyes.

Ilona huffed and crossed her arms. “You’re the worst and I can’t stand you,” she muttered, then, after a beat, added, “you wanna make out?”

Scarlett set her phone down and looked around. The coffee shop wasn’t crowded, but they weren’t completely secluded in their booth. “Someone could walk in on us…” She furrowed her brows. “I mean, not in on us… but still, you know what I mean.”

But Ilona didn’t flinch in the slightest. “And who gives a fuck? No one’s looking over here, and you’re being boring as shit.”

She arched her brow. “Well, how can I say no to such a compelling argument?” she asked dryly. Then, after another beat, she shrugged. “Fuck it, why not?” she decided, moving to sit on the same side of the booth.

“Finally,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. She wrapped her arms around Scarlett’s waist and pulled her close.

They kissed deeply, with the practiced ease that only came from doing this far too many times. They had mapped out each other’s bodies, had every inch committed to memory. Of course, there weren’t things they would ever confess. Because they still hated each other, obviously.

But the way they melted into the kiss, the way they gripped onto each other for dear life… Well, if anyone had seen them, it would no doubt look like a couple that was very much in love. And in reality, hate was much closer to love than it was to indifference, they were two sides of the same coin.

“I still hate you,” Ilona muttered against her lips.