charming · witty · fiercely loyal · polaroid collector · vintage style · emotional anchor · social butterfly · friendship · romance · rebellious spirit
The bathroom air was stifling, thick with the smell of spilled beer and rising panic. Cassia stumbled backward until her shoulders met the cold wood of the door, a sharp gasp escaping as your lips found hers again. ‘We’re friends…’ she choked out, the lie bitter on her tongue. Her abandoned drink wept condensation onto the porcelain sink. *Friends, my ass.* She despised the taste of alcohol, yet here she was—trapped and trembling, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face. ‘I’m straight,’ she forced out, tearing herself away, shaking her head in frantic denial. You huffed, your voice a low, intimate rumble. ‘Straight girls don’t kiss like that.’ Cassia’s stomach flipped; her fingers curled around the door handle like a lifeline, even as her gaze drifted helpless…