Abby

My eyes meet the green ones staring back at me in the mirror. I glance at the plain black dress that modestly hangs above my knees, its fabric gently hugging my body.

Absent-minded, I stare at my phone for what feels like the thousandth time this afternoon.

Simone's silence has been like a vampire's bite on every part of my body. I didn't expect this when I sent the text that has been gnawing at me for days now: I made out with Kenya the night of the barbecue. Just thought you'd want to know

I thought she might be upset or angry, but instead, there’s been nothing—no response at all. Not even a “?” or an “okay.” Just silence.

The two ticks at the bottom of my text show it has been delivered and opened. Is she too stunned to reply, or does she simply not care?

These questions have haunted me all afternoon, and now, to make things worse, Beth is dragging me to Simone’s house for dinner. I almost said no, but Beth insisted, saying it would be nice because her mom is in town.

My stomach churns because, despite my excuses, I couldn't tell Beth the real reason I didn't want to go. I couldn’t admit that seeing Simone and Zack together might break me.

“Hey, let’s move,” Beth calls from downstairs.

“Coming.”

“Your mother is so slow,” Beth says, adjusting the twins' hair.

The boys look adorable in their matching blue and white Mickey Mouse shirts, and black shorts, thanks to Beth. I can't help but smile as I spread my arms for them to rush into.

“You both look fantastic.”

“Thanks,” they reply in unison. I let them go and turn to Beth, who is wearing a red flowy dress and a lot of jewelry around her neck.

“Grab the wine; I’ll get the pie.”

I do as instructed, and soon we’re at Simone’s door. My heart hammers in my chest, I want to push the wine in Beth's hand and just go back home.

But my decision comes late because Zack comes to the door and smiles at us. I offer something close to a smile as he gets the wine from me —- he truly has no idea how much I hate him.

The tension is thick and suffocating as we sit at the dining table. Zack sits next to Simone and across from me, with Beth sitting directly across from Simone.

Simone’s mom, a poised and intimidating woman with darker skin than Simone's and short hair, offers a tight-lipped smile. She scans the room as if searching for something hidden.

I try not to look at Simone too much, but I can’t help casting sideways glances at her. She tries to act normal, laughing at Zack's jokes and making small talk with Beth, but I can see she’s uncomfortable. Her voice is strained, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Dinner is awkward. Simone’s mom makes a few snide comments about the food, mentioning the chicken is slightly overcooked and the potatoes are overly seasoned.

I notice the tight smile she gives before saying, “My bad.”

I want to step in and defend Simone, to say that the food is perfectly fine and her mom should ease up. But I stay silent. It’s not my place and Simone doesn’t deserve my saving. Not after what she did to me --- letting me watch while she got drilled.

"It's nice having kids around," Simone's mom comments.

My eyes snap immediately to Simone who shifts in her seat and Zack places a hand on top of hers. I swallow.

Zack smiles. Forced. "Yes, Mom, it does."

No one says a word after that but I'm curious if any of this means something deeply traumatizing for Zack and Simone or I'm just reading too much into it.
When dinner ends, I try to run to the door, giving an excuse about tucking the twins in bed despite them still actively telling stories to Simone’s mom.

Beth nudges me with her elbow and says with a not-so-subtle smile, “Why don’t you help with the dishes, Abby? I’ll clean up the table and put the kids to bed.”

Thank you very much, Beth!

I glare at her but she’s already starting to gather the plates. I begrudgingly take them from her.

I reluctantly head to the kitchen, where I find Simone already at the sink, looking frustrated as she washes the dishes. Her fingers grip the edge of the counter tightly.

I don't know whether to leave or stay until a plate slips from her hand and crashes to the floor.

She curses under her breath, barely noticing me behind her but before she can start cleaning up, I step forward.

“I’ve got it,” I say, picking up the broken pieces.

Simone continues with the dishes. When I dump the broken ones, I step next to her and start rinsing and drying them. We work in silence, with only the sounds of the running water and muffled conversation from the living room filling the air.

I want to ask if she’s okay, if she saw my text, or if things with her Mom are okay, but the words feel stuck in my throat. Instead, I stay silent.

When I rinse the last fork, I glance at Simone. For the first time tonight, our eyes meet----not by accident but intentionally.

Her gaze is intense and desperate. As if she is trying to send me a message without having to speak. A silent cry for help? Or more? I can’t tell.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she says softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

I nod, hoping she means what I think she does. I wait, my heart pounding with anticipation.

I don't know how she can possibly consider it but—

I wait.

Three minutes feels like forever, especially with a pounding heart and mind racing with anticipation.

I slip away from the kitchen, quietly making my way upstairs. The hallway is silent, the faint sound of laughter from Zack and everyone else fading downstairs. I hesitate, my hand on the bathroom door knob.

As soon as I turn it, Simone is there —- waiting for me. Her hand grips my wrist, pulling me inside quickly and shutting the door behind us with a soft click.

We’re inches apart now, her body pressed against mine despite the space in the bathroom. I can feel the heat and that lemon scent coming from her.

It's sweet, yet I'm sweating.

Simone's eyes lock with mine. Her gaze is fierce, almost dangerous. A warning. Don’t say anything. Just act.

I've never read anyone this good before.

I nod and immediately our lips crash with a force that makes my head spin. It’s like she’s pouring everything she’s been holding back the entire evening into this kiss—all the frustration, the anger, the guilt.

I feel the heat of her hands on my waist, hating the dress for being a barrier. She pulls me closer, as if she can’t handle the distance between us. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just us doing what we might regret five minutes later.

I kiss her back just as hard, my hands around her neck, pulling her closer, trying to lose myself in her, even if it’s just for a moment. Because right now, that’s all I have with her—a moment. I need this. Desperately.

“Simone,” I hear a voice in the hallway but Simone hears it too.

She pulls away from me, her breath short and sharp.

“Mom,” she says, trying to get a hold of herself. She eyes me and I nod — agreeing to not come out until further notice.

As her footsteps fade, I exhale deeply, adrenaline still rushing through me.

That was so fucking close.

+++

Eh.