Robin
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I make it to my room without slamming the door.

It takes effort. A stupid amount of it. My hands curl into fists at my sides, my breath coming in short, sharp exhales, but I don't let it show.

Because if I let it out now-if I let the anger and the ache and the humiliation rise to the surface-I might just break something.

I pace instead. Back and forth.

The image keeps replaying in my head. Javis. His filthy hands exactly where mine had been on Heather just hours ago.

The way she stood there, passive, letting it happen. Letting him touch her like she belonged to him. Like she hadn't just spent the afternoon pinned against a bathroom sink with my name caught between her lips.

I want to scream.

Instead, I sit on the edge of my bed, grabbing my phone, opening my notes app out of habit. I stare at the page, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

But the words won't come.

For the first time in a long time, my mind is too loud for lyrics. Too full of everything I can't say.

So I shove my phone under my pillow and lean back.

It feels like hours before I hear it. The softest knock.

I know who it is before I even open the door. I don't know if I passed out but the house is quiet and everyone seems to be in their rooms.

She's standing there, her face impassive in the dim hallway light, but I can see it in her eyes. The same thing I feel gnawing away at my ribs.

Guilt. Want. Frustration.

My stomach clenches.

I don't speak. I just step aside, letting her in, then shut the door behind her with a quiet click. I don't want anyone hearing this. Whatever this is.

She turns to face me, shifting on her feet like she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"I didn't mean for you to see that," she says, voice low.

I nod once. Not because I accept it, but because I don't trust myself to speak yet.

She swallows, exhaling hard. "Robin, I-"

"Heather," My voice is sharp. A blade between us. I don't want it to be, but I can't help it. "You didn't mean for me to see it? Or you didn't mean for it to happen at all?"

She flinches.

For a second, I almost regret saying it. Almost.

But then she shakes her head, her jaw tightening. "I don't owe you an explanation."

I let out a hollow laugh, stepping forward, closing the space between us. "No? You sure about that?"

Her eyes snap to mine, flashing with something that looks a lot like anger. "Robin-"

"You told me you didn't want to be with him." My voice is quieter now, but just as sharp. "You said it, Heather. And then you let him kiss you. How does that work, exactly?"

Her face contorts. "You think I wanted that?"

"I don't know. You looked pretty comfortable."

Her lips part, like she's about to argue, but then she stops. Breathes in slow. Breathes out even slower.

When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. "You don't get it."

I scoff. "Oh, trust me, I get it. You want to have your cake and eat it too. You want to play the perfect fiancée while sneaking around with me like it doesn't mean anything."

Her face twists. "That's not fair."

"No?" I cross my arms. "Then tell me what is fair, Heather. Tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do with you."

She doesn't answer right away. Just stares at me, like she's trying to find the right words.

And that's what kills me the most.

Because if she has to search for the answer, then maybe it isn't one she wants to admit out loud.

The silence expands. My chest feels tight.

And then she speaks, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

I close my eyes for half a second. God, I hate this.

When I open them again, she's still watching me, her expression softer now. Like she's waiting for me to make the next move.

I don't.

Because I'm tired.

I'm tired of this push and pull. Of wanting something I can't have.

I run a hand through my hair. "You should go."

Her lips part like she wants to argue, but I shake my head before she can.

"Seriously, Heather. Just-go."

Her jaw tenses. She hesitates.

And then, finally, she turns. Walks to the door.

But just before she opens it, she pauses.

"No."

"No?" I parrot.

Heather doesn't move even though she should, I just told her to.

But instead, she exhales and steps back in, closing the space between us.

My breath catches as she looks at me, her dark eyes are desperate and burning with something she won't say out loud. Something I feel more than I hear.

"Heather," I warn, but my voice hardly makes it past my throat.

She doesn't listen.

She presses in, hesitating just for a second, like she's giving me a chance to stop this. Like she's waiting for me to say no.

But I don't.

Because I can't.

Because the ache in my chest is too much, the heat in my skin unbearable, and all I want is for her to touch me, to remind me that this was real. That I wasn't just making it up in my head.

Then, before I can process, we crash together.

Her lips are on mine.

The kiss is frantic, messy, too much and not enough all at once. She fists my shirt, pulling me in like she needs this just as much as I do. Like she's been holding back all night, just barely keeping it together, and now that we're here, alone, the dam has finally broken.

I don't even realize we're moving until my legs hit the bed.

Heather doesn't stop.

Her hands are on me, sliding up my arms, my waist, my neck, like she's trying to erase everything else-Javis, the dinner, the way we sat through that stupid movie pretending we didn't want to do more than touch each other.

I let her.

I kiss her back just as hard, just as desperate, my fingers curling into her hair, pulling her even closer.

Because if this is the only real thing I get-if this stolen, forbidden moment is all I have of her-then I'll take it.

But it's not enough.

It never is.

Heather pulls back first, breathless, her forehead resting against mine. Her fingers still grip my shirt, like she's afraid to let go.

"I-" she starts, but she doesn't finish.

And I don't push her to.

Because we both know what she wants to say.

It doesn't change anything. It doesn't fix anything, just makes it harder.

I close my eyes, exhaling against her lips. "This is never going to stop, is it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think I want it to."

That shouldn't be enough. I shouldn't settle for that. I'm better than that, but fuck, for now it sounds like enough.

And I gladly take it along with her sweet plump lips.