Lavender.
She rolled the word over and over. Had it been careless? Coincidence? Or had he known what he was doing?
Her arms folded over her chest, more muscle memory than defense, but the tension sat there—coiled, low and unsettled.
Across the café, the barista made a joke to someone in line. A laugh followed, loud and easy. Behind the counter, steam hissed. Cups clinked. Espresso poured. The usual rhythm of a weekday afternoon.
The world didn’t feel any different.
But to her, it did.
Something in the air had shifted, tilted slightly off balance.
Enough to make everything feel misaligned.
?
The apartment looked like it had lost a fight with a fashion tornado, fabric flung across chairs, tossed over lamps, a patchwork of chaos carpeting the floor. Sequins, satin, leather—every shade of rebellion laid bare.
Penny’s closet had clearly waged war, and the battlefield was her living room.
In the eye of it all spun Penny, a one-woman storm, limbs flailing with uncontainable energy. Her laughter was bright, loud, incapable of leaving room for shadows.
“Tonight,” she announced, stepping out of her room like she’d been awarded a Tony, “we forget all of it. Mysterious flowers. Brooding men. Creepy run-ins. We remind this city what we’re made of.”
Arden lounged on the couch, holding up the burgundy top Penny had launched at her like a challenge. Soft fabric, sheer sleeves, a neckline that dared to go lower than her comfort zone. It caught the light with a quiet shimmer, bolder than her usual choices, but fitting.
She raised an eyebrow. “And how are we doing that, exactly?”
Penny struck a pose and nearly toppled off her silver heels. “First, we make you look dangerously gorgeous.
Then, drinks. Karaoke. And if necessary, emotional exorcism.”
She vanished into the closet and emerged seconds later, holding up a pair of high-waisted leather leggings with the triumph of someone who’d discovered buried treasure.
“These could double as a weapon. Perfect for shattering hearts and ghosting billionaires.”
Arden took them with mock suspicion. “You’re lucky I trust your chaos.”
“Trust,” Penny said solemnly, hand over heart, “is the foundation of our sacred friendship.”
With a dramatic flourish, she spun around and revealed her ownoutfit, a sequined mini dress so reflective it could probably redirect traffic. Cutout back. Hemline legally questionable. Pure Penny.
Arden stepped into the leggings and adjusted them over her hips. They clung to her body, daring in all the right ways. She paused, looked in the mirror, and then nodded once.
Screw it.
“Shoes?” she asked.
Penny gasped like she’d been mortally wounded. "Shoes are everything, Arden. They set the emotional tone." She produced a pair of stiletto ankle boots—shiny, black, and unapologetically sharp.
Arden zipped them up, struck a mock pose. “Dangerous enough yet?”
Penny’s eyes lit up. “Lethal. You’re a storm in heels. A goddess with grievances. The city won’t survive.”
Arden laughed, lighter now—looser.
“You’re something else.”
