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‘Gimme a second. I’ll have something.’

Ashley raised an eyebrow. Molly stared at her for a beat, then kissed her again instead.

Ashley made a triumphant noise. ‘You’re finally speechless,’ she murmured against her lips.

‘Don’t get used to it,’ Molly said, without stopping the kiss.

Ashley broke into helpless laughter against her mouth, the last lingering barrier between them melting away entirely until they were searching for each other, finding each other.

At some point, Molly paused, resting her lips against Ashley’s neck. Quietly, without even realising she was going to say it, she whispered, ‘Let’s try not to mess each other up.’

She was shocked at her own vulnerability. But Ashley nodded once, breathing, ‘Yes.’ And then it was okay. Molly was okay. No more words were needed.

The mattress gave a long, slow creak as Ashley shifted her weight, pulling Molly down, climbing astride her. The precariousness of the cheap bed vanished, reduced to nothing more than a steady, rhythmic complaint beneath the sudden, overwhelming heat of their bodies.

The cold air of the room hit Molly’s bare skin as Ashley pulled her shirt over her head, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of Ashley’s hands. Her touch was magic: soft, yet decisive. Molly suddenly envied Ashley’s guitar for all the hours it spent in those hands.

Reaching up, Molly slid her hands under Ashley’s top, her palms finding the smooth, warm skin of her back as she helped strip it off.

The rest of the garments went quickly after that. Free of their clothes, Ashley leaned down, her lips finding the hollow of Molly’s throat. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped Molly’s lips, her fingers instantly tangling in Ashley’s hair, pulling her tighter until there was no space left between them at all.

Then Ashley parted Molly’s legs with her knee, and Molly looked up. Ashley was looking down at her, her breathing shallow, her eyes dark and completely focused. For a woman who spent her life hiding behind jokes and quick comebacks, being looked at with that much raw, undivided honesty was terrifying. And entirely intoxicating.

Ashley slid her hand down between their bodies, her fingers finding Molly, damp and ready. Molly arched into the touch with a low, desperate moan, her hips moving instinctively against Ashley’s hand. The friction was agonisingly perfect.

Ashley’s touch grew more urgent, her fingers moving inside her with a steady, driving rhythm that had Molly gripping the frayed edges of the mattress.

The pace quickened into a frantic, beautifully messy collision of skin and breath. When the wave finally hit, it started deep in Molly’s chest and shattered outward. She clung to Ashley, her fingers digging into the muscles of her back as she rode out the intensity, her body trembling beneath the weight of her own release. Ashley let out a ragged breath against Molly’s neck, her own movements fracturing into a tight, shuddering climax a moment later as she pressed herself hard against Molly.

They collapsed into each other, letting time slip away.

Slowly, the world reassembled itself. The rain was still tapping against the window, and the Cate Blanchett poster was still peeling at the corner.

Ashley rolled onto her side, pulling the tangled duvet over both of them, her chest rising and falling in sync with Molly’s.

Molly looked up at the ceiling, a slow smile spreading across her face. She reached out beneath the covers, finding Ashley’s fingers and lacing them together.

She didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Everything was perfect.

Fifteen

Now

‘Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry,’ Molly hissed, her face flushed a violent crimson as she scrambled to find purchase on the fabric of Ashley’s trousers. ‘My heel, the dress… I’m a human wrecking ball.’

The paparazzi were in an absolute feeding frenzy. The shutter clicks sounding like a volley of automatic gunfire, everyone getting every angle on Ashley’s exposed bra and stomach.

For a horrifying second, Ashley wasn’t standing on the steps of the Leicester Square theatre in 2026. She was back at the Teen Select Music Awards. She could hear the echo of Reva’s venomous screeching as she dragged them both down into career suicide. The suffocating weight of public humiliation pressed down on Ashley’s semi-exposed chest, making it impossible to breathe. Not again, her brain screamed. Please, god, not a second time.

But as Ashley looked down at Molly—who was currently trying to untangle her stilettos from her dress with all the grace of a newborn giraffe—the panic slipped away. This wasn’t Reva’s malevolent attack. It was just Molly falling over and exposing Ashley’s bra.

A bubble of air escaped Ashley’s lips. A gasp. Then, a snort.

‘Ashley?’ Molly whispered, freezing in her undignified sprawl, eyes wide with horror. ‘Are you crying?’

‘No,’ Ashley choked out, pressing a hand over her mouth. ‘No, I’m...’

She couldn’t stop it. A full, breathless laugh burst out of her. It was absurd. It was completely, utterly ridiculous. The Reva incident had been a malicious act of destruction. But this? This was just slapstick. Molly looked so genuinely appalled, her expensive updo completely undone, a stray piece of glitter from a nearby display somehow stuck to her cheek.