Shriya half-carried, half-steered MK through the hotel hallway, MK's steps unsteady, her fingers gripping Shriya's jacket like she was afraid gravity would snatch her away.
"Careful," Shriya murmured, arm firm around MK's waist.
MK laughed—soft, drunken, helpless.
"You always… show up at the worst time."
"And save you," Shriya muttered under her breath, guiding her toward the bed.
The moment MK sat, the world tilted, and she reached out instinctively—her hand catching Shriya's wrist, holding on as if her body remembered something her mind refused to accept.
"Wait… don't go."
Shriya froze.
"MK," she warned. "You're drunk."
MK pulled gently, bringing Shriya closer.
Her eyes were hazy, unfocused, but the longing in them was painfully clear.
A second.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Then MK leaned in.
The kiss wasn't soft.
Wasn't delicate.
It was recognition.
Their mouths collided like two flames remembering they once belonged to the same fire. MK's hands slid into Shriya's hair; Shriya's pulse slammed against her ribs. Their lips moved like they had been starving for years — desperate, angry, relieved, unable to stop.
Shriya's breath hitched.
This—
This was exactly how their first night had begun.
The same heat, the same loss of reason, the same "God, what are we doing?"
And again, it was MK pulling her deeper, kissing her like she didn't want air, like all the guilt and longing and confusion of the last two years were dissolving between their mouths.
Shriya felt her body respond instantly — arousal hitting her like a wave she'd been holding back for too long.
Her fingers curled into MK's shirt, pulling her closer—
Then her mind screamed:
She has a girlfriend.
You don't get to be selfish again.
Don't you dare do this to her twice.
Shriya tore herself away, breath shaking, every muscle trembling from restraint.
"No—no, we can't—" she gasped, backing away like MK was fire and she'd already burned herself once.
MK reached for her again, eyes dark, lips swollen.
"Shriya, please—"
"Stop."
Shriya stumbled toward the bathroom, each step a war against her own body.
"Just… stop."
She closed the door behind her, chest heaving, and turned on the shower. Ice-cold water hit her skin, but it barely cooled the desire rippling through her.
"Shit," she whispered, pressing a palm to the wall.
"Not again. Not again. Not with her taken."
But her mind kept replaying the kiss.
Her lips still felt MK's shape.
Her body still wanted more.
"You're an idiot," she muttered to herself.
"A stupid, hopeless idiot."
---
MK lay on the mattress, staring at the bathroom door as the sound of water ran.
She wasn't drunk enough to forget the kiss.
Not drunk enough to stop wanting another.
Her mind battled itself:
Don't do this. You have Ashley.
Shriya kissed me.
No, YOU kissed her.
But she kissed me back.
And you know why? Because you let her.
…I don't know what I'm doing.
She pressed her palms over her face.
Only the memory of Jesse's hand striking her yesterday stopped her from getting up and ripping open that bathroom door.
Jesse's voice echoed in her head:
"Don't do stupid things again."
MK rolled onto her side, pulling a pillow over her head until sleep dragged her under.
---
The knock of sunlight across the curtains woke her.
Her skull pounded, every breath heavy with last night's mistakes. She groaned sitting up—
and froze.
Shriya was asleep on the couch.
Her arms folded.
Jacket draped over her.
Face calm… softer than MK had seen it in years.
MK swallowed.
"You stayed," she whispered.
Shriya mumbled something in her sleep, shifting. MK leaned closer despite herself.
Her lips.
Her eyelashes.
The faint crease between her brows.
Everything too familiar.
Too dangerous.
"What are you thinking…" MK murmured to herself. "I can't believe how selfless you are."
She placed the blanket over Shriya quietly… the one small thank you she could offer before leaving.
Then MK dressed, grabbed her bag, and slipped out.
Not a single word spoken.
---
MK found Jesse waiting outside the hotel entrance, arms crossed, iced coffee in hand, looking like she had been rehearsing complaints since dawn.
"Please tell me nothing happened," Jesse demanded.
"Nothing happened," MK said.
"What?!" Jesse shrieked internally.
She had been PRAYING something happened.
"Good. I'm rooting for Ashley," she lied smoothly.
MK side-eyed her.
"You really like Ashley, huh?"
"What? Me? No." Jesse's voice cracked.
MK stared.
Then realization hit her like lightning.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped.
"Jesse… have you been talking to Ashley?"
"She knows we're arriving," Jesse said casually.
"HA… great," MK forced a laugh.
"Please tell me you didn't tell her I slapped you."
"She called to ask if I was okay."
MK's stomach dropped.
"Huh. They like each other," she thought.
"Is that why Jesse slapped me? Because she was mad about Ashley?"
"She knows her schedule better than I do…"
"Wait—Jesse likes men. Right?"
"But… fifty-fifty…"
"No… stop, MK… it's Jesse… she would tell me—"
"MK. MK." Jesse waved a hand in front of her face.
MK blurted: "Jesse… do you ONLY like men?"
Jesse blinked. Then laughed dramatically.
"Oh no. You don't LIKE me, do you?"
"JESSE."
"I've never fantasized about women," Jesse said easily.
MK stared at her.
Maybe she WAS overthinking it.