She laughs, a bright, watery sound. “I love you, too.” She rests her forehead against mine, our breathing syncing. “You don’t have to do all of this alone. We’ll figure it out together, all three of us." She says it so simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
I want to believe her. Ineedto believe her.
###
“Ollie! Popcorn’s ready.” Kat calls from the kitchen.
The couch creaks softly beneath me as I shift in my spot, my fingers drumming restlessly against my knee. My mind is still tangled in the forest, replaying that kiss like a broken record. For one perfect, impossible second, I was kissing my best friend.
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the living room walls, making the cabin feel smaller somehow…or maybe that’s just my anxiety making me claustrophobic.
I exhale, my shoulders tensing as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. The last step groans under her weight, and I finally force myself to glance up.
Ollie stands at the bottom of the staircase, her gaze skimming over the room before landing on me. She’s wearing a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and a thin long-sleeve shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so casually covered up before. With a body covered in ink, she’s never been shy about showing it off, but her clothes swallow her form completely.
The sleeves of her hunter-green shirt hang down below her wrists, her black-painted fingernails, chipped at the ends, clutch the fabric into her palms.
The way she’s standing there, stiff and unsure, makes my gut twist.
“Hey Buddy,” I say, desperate to break the silence.
“Hey,” she replies. “Did you guys pick out the movie?” she asks, too carefully. Too collected.
“I think Kat did,” I say, watching her drift toward the solitary chair by the bookshelf. Panic swells in my chest, and my voice comes out sharper than I intend. “You’re not sitting there.”
She freezes mid-step, one hand resting on the worn corduroy upholstery. Her shoulders stiffen beneath the green fabric as she turns to look at me, a question in her dark brown eyes.
Before I can explain, the creak of the kitchen door swings open. “Movie time!” Kat practically sings.
She’s cradling a huge plastic bowl of popcorn that covers more of her than the clothes she's wearing.
In stark contrast to Ollie, Kat is barely wearing anything at all. Her feet are bare on the wooden floor, her legs pale and endless, leading up to a pair of black boy shorts and a cream-colored tank top, not a bra strap in sight.
Ollie’s careful composure shatters.
“Jesus Christ, Kat. Did you not pack enough clothes?” she groans. A ragged sound that doesn’t belong in this quiet room.
Her eyes, dark and wide, lock onto Kat with a force that feels physical. She’s not just looking; she’s consuming the sight, from the bounce of Kat’s heavy tits to the gentle crease of her ass where the thin fabric ends. Her eyes are hungry. Starving.
“Your eyes aren’t complaining,” Kat purrs, sinking onto the cushion next to me.
Ollie shakes her head, a small smile trying to break through the corners of her lips. She meets my eyes for a moment before picking up a pillow on the chair across the room.
“Ollie.” Her name cracks out of me.
She flinches, the pillow tightening in her grip.
Her gaze darts from me to Kat, who gives a small, encouraging nod. “Please,” Kat says softly, patting the space next to her.
Ollie’s shoulders drop, a barely-there surrender. She tosses the throw pillow back onto the chair and takes the seat on the far end from me. She tucks her hands, along with our matching tattoo, under her thighs.
Fuck. I fucked up. The kiss didn’t just surprise her—it made her want to disappear.
Kat immediately scoots from my side into the newly created middle. She settles in, curling her legs beneath her, a living barrier and a bridge.
“Okay,” Kat says, grabbing the remote. “Let’s see what’s good.”
She clicks through the streaming options, her fingers moving with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. I watch her, the way her tank top shifts with each movement, the way her hair falls over her shoulder in a wild cascade of curls. She’s so alive, so present, and I wish to god I knew what she was up to.
