Abby

When she lets her invitation out, I hesitate. I'm wondering if she means it or if it's a sick joke. But I see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, her teeth grating over her lip as if weighing whether she made the right decision or not.

“No,” I say, stepping toward her as I lose my grip on my thumping heart. "I'd love to scrub your back, and everywhere else you want me to."

I don't mean to whisper the last part, but I’m happy with the immediate effect it has on her. Her breath hitches slightly before she masks it with a deep sigh.

“My shampoo smells like lemons,” she says, and I want to laugh. She has no idea how much I’ve grown to love her lemon scent.

“I don’t mind.”

Her eyes darken just enough to make me understand she wants this as much as I do.

The walk up her stairs is in silence, and I wonder what she’s thinking about. I walk closely behind her as she pulls the shower curtains aside. I can’t help but feel like this is illegal—like she’s letting me into her most sacred place, where she lets no one else in.

I watch as she slowly drops her robe, gasping a little at the sheer nakedness beneath it.

Simone lets out a chuckle and steps into the tub.

I hesitate, but a second later, I'm  sitting on the other side of the tub.

“How was work?” she asks as if this is something casual and not a big deal.

I shake my head. “Tiring, but Milton’s getting me there.”

Simone nods.

Silence settles over us, the lemon scent from the foamy water wraps around my nose.

“Should we move to the shower?” Simone asks after a moment of comfortable stillness.

“Sounds good.”

The warm water streams over us when we step into the shower. Simone stands so close to me despite the space available. Her skin glistens under the steady spray, and I can’t believe I’m here again—after everything, after all the uncertainty I saw in her eyes earlier, yet she asked me to stay. And I did, without hesitation.

“Should I scrub your back now?” I ask, desperate for some distraction.

Simone stands with her back to me, her hair wrapped up in a shower cap. It’s mine that is wet, clinging to my shoulders. I watch the water run down her skin in hypnotizing lines, and all I can think about is how badly I want to trace those paths with my hands.

“Be gentle.”

Her muscles tense under my fingertips when I grab the soap and lather my hands. I move gently, my palms rubbing across her back in slow circles. I can feel her body start to relax with every touch.

Simone’s head tilts slightly to the side as I work, and my fingers drift lower, over her hips and waist. She lets out a quiet sigh, and the sound sends a wave of electricity through me. I lean closer, brushing my lips on her shoulder, then along her skin down to her back. I notice the shudder—not from the cold, but from me.

Warmth bubbles in my chest. I have this effect on her, and it’s gorgeous.

I pause, giving her time to stop me if she wants. But when she turns around to face me, I see it in her eyes. There’s no hesitation, no guilt—not right now. Just the two of us, the water gently hitting our feet, and this stupidly strong connection pulling me to her.

We don't say anything, we don't need to.

Our lips meet softly at first, like we’re both still testing the line we’ve crossed. But the kiss deepens. Her hands come up in a rush around my face, and everything else fades away. There’s no Zack, no guilt, no world outside this bathroom—only Simone, her touch, and her presence.

I pull away to breathe because I might actually be drowning under the shower. I’m breathless, and so is she. I rest my forehead against hers—the moment so intimate, it imprints itself on my brain.

The air is heavy with unspoken words, but for now, we choose to ignore them.

+++

After drying off, Simone offers me her sweater, and we settle on her couch wrapped in a cozy blanket. Simone suggests watching a movie. Something light.

I don’t decline, even though I’m more of a horror movie person. I understand she needs the distraction, an escape from the pending doom. So, I let her pick, and we settle into a romantic comedy—I don’t care to ask the title because our bodies leaning into each other is more important.

Her head rests on my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. It feels so natural, being here with her like this. I wish we could stay in this bubble forever.

But my phone buzzes in my lap, breaking the silence. I glance at the screen—Beth.

Bethyy: [Hey, where are you?]

Me: [I’m at Simone’s.]

Bethyy: [I’m coming over.]

My heart skips a beat, forcing me to sit up straighter. Simone stirs beside me, her eyes fluttering as she glares at me for moving.

“What’s going on?”

“Beth’s coming over,” I say, panic rising in my belly. I don’t want her to take this the wrong way, but I believe it’s what she would want. “We need to—uh, move apart.”

My heart’s racing to notice Simone’s expression, but she shifts to the other side of the couch, creating distance between us. We sit there awkwardly, trying to act casual despite the tension. The intimacy we’d shared moments ago now feels like a secret we’re fighting hard to hide.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Simone shoots me a nervous glance before getting up to let Beth in. I try to steady my breathing, but my heart is still racing as Beth walks in, her usual burst of energy filling the room.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Beth asks, glancing at me. “Movie night?”

“Yeah,” Simone chirps. “Abby’s idea.”

A blush rises to my cheeks. She’s doing terribly. Beth knows I don’t like romantic movies, but she just nods.

Beth flops down in the middle of the couch, oblivious to the elephant in the room. “So, how’s Zack?” Beth asks casually, looking at Simone.

Simone freezes for a split second, her smile faltering before she forces it back into place.

“He’s fine,” she replies, but her voice sounds tight like it’s taking all her energy just to get the words out.

Beth doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she does but decides not to push. We all know Simone has issues with her marriage, and Beth knows that very well. It’s wise not to trigger Simone.

Beth being Beth, starts rambling about her day at the gym and how this hot guy flirted with her.

“How many hot guys are at the gym?” I want to ask, but my eyes only dart between the two of them.

Simone seems to be struggling—her fidgeting hands, the way she avoids Beth’s gaze, all signs of the chaos going on inside her. I want to reach out and brush my hand over her soft skin, but I can’t. Not with Beth here. So, I stay still, my heart aching for Simone, hoping this conversation won’t last too long.

Eventually, Beth stands up, stretching her arms above her head. “Well, I should get going,” she says, completely unaware of the tension she’s leaving behind.

I follow her to the door, watching as she waves and walks off down the steps on the balcony. As soon as she’s out of sight, I exhale, letting out a breath. I turn to Simone, who’s standing by the couch, her shoulders slumped in relief.

I give her a wink, a small smile playing on my lips. She looks up at me, her cheeks flushing.

It hurts to end the day without her lips on mine.

But I have to remind myself, no matter how good this is, no matter how badly we want to ignore it, reality will come crashing down on us, and I might be the only one who ends up hurt.

+++

Hiiiiiiii.