Her body chose for her, and it wasfreezeall day long.
The bedroom door slammed open, and Mara thought for one, blissful moment that Kirby wouldn’t see her as she waltzed out in plaid pajama shorts and a bra holding a sex toy in one hand, clearly heading to the bathroom.
A sex toy.
As if from a distance, it clicked that Mara had not heard anyone else. Just Kirby. Maybe Kirby was alone.
Was that better? Or worse?
Kirby jumped when she saw Mara standing there, but she recovered as quick as a cat.
“What are you?—”
“I came to get?—”
They spoke at the same time. Then stopped at the same time.
Something like anger burned in Kirby’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Mara said. The apology felt sticky in her mouth.
“For what?” Kirby prowled toward her, and the room started spinning again.
Kirby had thigh tattoos—a coiled snake on one leg and swirling florals on the other. Mara had seen them in TikTok videos and in the locker room. But she had never looked closely. She wanted to look closely.
“For listening.” Her words shocked her, probably shocked them both.
Kirby didn’t stop until their bodies were almost touching. Mara closed her eyes.
She’d fucked up. She’d fucked up. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she had never been so embarrassed.
“Did you like listening, Mara May?” Kirby whispered, danger soaking her voice. Mara could feel the heat from Kirby’s skin.
She was about to cry, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.
No, wait. That wasn’t true. She’d cried after losing the gold to Kirby by the thinnest margin. A photo finish. Mara had cried right there at the finish line, barely able to breathe, collapsed on the ground from exertion, her whole body in pain. She’d seen her teary face as a gif once. Crying publicly had made the humiliation so much worse. She had nightmares about it. She was known as an emotionless skier. She rarely fell to the groundafter races. She didn’t show what she was thinking or feeling—the good or the bad.
She never allowed herself to cry. She’d locked that part of her heart off. She’d put it on ice.
But tears pricked at her right then, threatening to make another appearance.
Kirby dropped the sex toy. It was bright orange. It thunked to the floor. Mara flinched and looked up.
Their eyes locked, and for one brief second, neither of them moved or breathed. They just gazed at each other.
And then Kirby was on her. Against her. Kissing her with a desperation that sunk every shred of resistance Mara would have normally mustered.
Instead, she melted under Kirby’s touch, her searing kiss. The sweep of her tongue. It was rough and a revelation.
“Tell me,” Kirby snapped, ripping her mouth away from Mara’s before kissing her neck. Mara gasped, and her spine seemed to go liquid. “Admit it.”
“What?” Mara managed.
“You liked it. Liked hearing me fuck myself. You’re not as innocent as everyone thinks.”
“I don’t—I’m not…”
Kirby grabbed Mara’s hair, wrapping the long fall of her ponytail around a fist. “Do you want to kiss me back, Mara May?”
