I stepped out of the dressing room slowly, smoothing the blouse down over my hips.
Lina turned, looked up from her phone—and her reaction was instant.
"Oh, my God," she said, half-laughing, half-gasping. "You look hot."
I gave a modest shrug, but I didn't hide the satisfaction.
"No, seriously," she said, standing to walk around me. "That color is perfect. And the neckline? It's just enough. Sexy but not screaming for attention."
I met her eyes in the mirror.
Her reflection beamed. "I'm just saying… if you don't rip the price tag off and keep it on until we get home, I'm disowning you."
I stepped out of the dressing room slowly, smoothing the blouse down over my hips.
Lina turned, looked up from her phone—and her reaction was instant.
"Oh, my God," she said, half-laughing, half-gasping. "You look hot."
I gave a modest shrug, but I didn't hide the satisfaction.
"No, seriously," she said, standing to walk around me. "That color is perfect. And the neckline? It's just enough. Sexy but not screaming for attention."
I met her eyes in the mirror.
Her reflection beamed. "I'm just saying… if you don't rip the price tag off and wear this home, I'm disowning you."
I chuckled softly. "You just want me to distract people while you shop."
"I want to admire my gorgeous sister in that blouse on the way home," she said, poking my side. "Sue me."
The compliment warmed me more than it should have. Not because I needed her validation—but because I believed her. Because for once, the mirror and her words weren't lying.
I looked… good.
Better than good.
I looked like someone worth touching.
Lina clapped her hands. "Okay, let's pay before I max out my restraint. And then, brunch. Somewhere with real coffee and bread I'm not allowed to eat."
"Lead the way," I said, still admiring the cut of the blouse as I followed her toward the register.
The silk moved as I walked. Whispering against my skin. Teasing the air.
And every time I caught a flicker of myself in the boutique mirrors, I saw someone I almost remembered.
Almost.
The café was one of those sun-drenched, marble-tabled places with minimalist cutlery and overpriced everything. Lina insisted the avocado toast here was "spiritual." I didn't argue.
We were seated by the window, the city bustling beyond the glass—couples with takeaway cups, girls in sunglasses, laughter that didn't carry any weight. Our table gleamed in the morning light. I sat back, fingers loose around my second coffee.
The blouse shimmered faintly in the sun.
I could feel it.
Lina leaned forward, sunglasses perched on her head. "Okay. So. I haven't told you this yet, but…"
I looked up.
She smirked. "David is so good in bed."
I blinked. Froze. Just for a moment. "Lina."
"What?" She laughed. "I'm serious. Like, stupid good. It's unfair."
I took a slow sip from my cup to hide the way my stomach curled. It was burning hot, but I didn't flinch.
She kept going, oblivious. "He's really attentive, you know? Like, not just selfish college-boy horny. He takes his time. Listens. It's… yeah. Honestly, I think I've ruined myself for anyone else."
My pulse thudded in my neck.
I swallowed.
That low ache I thought I'd quieted in the shower began to stir again—this time lower. Deeper. Hotter. And somehow colder, too, in the cruelest corners of my chest.
Lina leaned back, grinning. "Sorry, too much?"
I smiled, faint. "A bit."
She giggled behind her glass. "You should see your face."
I didn't want her to.
I looked down at the table.
The silverware gleamed. A breeze moved through the open door behind me, brushing the back of my neck. The silk of my blouse rippled ever so slightly.
I imagined his hands on Lina again. Her body. Her voice. I imagined her saying the same things in his ear that I whispered in the dark—alone, ashamed.
He listened to her.
Took his time with her.
Was careful with her.
And I had to hear about it secondhand, pretending to laugh, pretending to care, pretending to be whole while heat pooled between my thighs like a secret I could never tell.
Lina's voice broke through again. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I said automatically, dabbing at my mouth with the napkin.
"You've been weird all day."
"I'm not used to sunlight and overpriced toast."
She smirked. "Well, get used to it. You're wearing the blouse. You don't get to brood when you look that good."
I gave her a faint smile.
But the truth was—
I didn't feel good.
I felt hollow. Hungry. Wrapped in silk and envy and the unbearable knowledge that he had tasted her… while I could only imagine.
Lina's phone buzzed against the table.
She glanced at it and groaned. "Ugh. Work. Two minutes."
She slid out of her seat, pressing the phone to her ear before she even stepped away.
I watched her disappear around the corner of the café patio, the swing of her hips careless, her laugh too light for someone who had just said that to me.
The silence she left behind was sharp.
I looked down at my own phone, screen still dark. No new notifications. No texts. No one checking in.
I tapped it awake anyway. My thumb hovered. Hesitated.
Then typed in his name.
David K.
No privacy settings. Of course not. He was too young to care who watched.
I tapped his profile.
Photos filled the screen—sunlit, simple, the kind of curated ease that didn't have to try hard. He looked like the kind of man who lived well without knowing why.
There was one from a beach trip. Shirtless. His hand around Lina's waist, her bikini top crooked from a moment of play. Both smiling. Both alive.
The caption was short: stole her from the sun ☀️
It wasn't poetry.
But it hurt.
I kept scrolling.
A photo of him in a white T-shirt, head tilted back, eyes closed—lit by that perfect end-of-day gold that photographers chase.
I stared at it too long.
Then tapped the photo.
Zoomed in.
His neck. His jaw. His lips.
That was the mouth Lina kept talking about.
The mouth that "took his time."
The one that made her say she was ruined.
I swallowed thickly, thumb trembling.
My reflection stared back at me in the black edges of the phone. Tight-lipped. Hollow-eyed. Dressed in silk like it meant something.
I locked the screen and set the phone down like it had burned me.
Because it had.
Lina returned a minute later, exhaling like she'd just put out a fire.
She dropped back into her seat, adjusted her sunglasses on her head, then turned toward me with an expression that made me uneasy before she even opened her mouth.
She stared.
Not casually.
She looked at me.
Up and down. Eyes lingering.
Then she grinned—wide, unfiltered, half-playful, half-serious.
"God…" she said, shaking her head a little. "I wish I was a man."
I blinked. "What?"
She leaned in, still grinning. "I'd fuck your brains out."
A short, throaty laugh followed—casual. Effortless. Like it was the kind of joke you say to your older sister without thinking.
But my stomach twisted so fast I nearly flinched.
I covered it with a laugh—soft, practiced. The kind of laugh that buys you time to breathe.
Lina didn't notice.
She just sipped her iced latte like she hadn't just said the one thing I'd fantasized about hearing in a voice far deeper than hers.
I'd fuck your brains out.
The words echoed. Too vividly. Too perfectly.
I looked down at my coffee, gripping the mug tighter than I needed to.
She said it without weight. Without context.
But to me?
It landed like a sin whispered behind stained glass.
She was back to scrolling again, tapping through something on her phone with her legs crossed and carefree. The moment already gone in her world.
But mine?
Mine spun.
Because now I was hearing his voice say it.
David. The words in his mouth. Slow. Hot. Final.
I took another sip of my coffee, though it had gone cold.
The silk blouse clung to the rise of my chest.
And I suddenly wasn't sure if I wanted to cry again…
Or if I was already wet.