I grab some glasses while Jessie clears a space on the coffee table. Ana pops open a bottle of cold white wine like she’s officiating a tiny wedding. The sound is soft and celebratory. I fill the cups and Ana reappears with three plates of emerald-green risotto, steam rising in lazy ribbons.

  "Okay, this looks insane," Jessie says.

  We sit cross-legged around the table, passing bread, and pouring more wine. The first bite is quiet. There’s a hint of lemon peel in it, and the acidity lands just right, folding into the broccoli and the cheese. The texture is creamy, but you can still feel each grain of rice.

  After a beat I just, "Mmm" for a bit too long.

  Jessie follows, rolling her eyes while chewing, with a look of pleasure that makes me blush "Mmm." slow, and exaggerated.

  And Ana takes it to a whole new level of professionalism, slapping the table and biting her lips, "Mmm." intense, very in it.

  We look at each other.

  And burst out laughing.

  "Why am I hot?" I say, fanning myself with my hand.

  Ana exhales dramatically. "It’s sad to think I used to have really good sex with Martin."

  "Let’s not go there," Jessie says. "I haven’t had sex since the riddle guy, and it was… bleak."

  "Why?" I ask.

  She pinches her fingers together.

  Ana winces. "Oh no."

  "I mean, I’m not anti-small," Jessie says quickly. "Small can still be mighty."

  "But…?" Ana pushes.

  "But he couldn’t get hard. Like. Ever."

  Jessie covers her face.

  We scream.

  "I was out here doing volunteer work," Jessie continues. "Changing positions. Encouraging affirmations. Going down on him like I was trying to summon a demon."

  Ana laughs so hard she almost drops her fork.

  "And then," Jessie says, "when it finally happened? He came immediately."

  "Did he finish you?" Ana asks, scooping more risotto.

  Jessie presses her lips, and shakes her head. "He looked so proud for the bare minimum."

  Ana clicks her tongue. "Some men should be on probation."

  I wipe tears from my eyes.

  "Okay," I say. "My turn to emotionally damage the room."

  They both look at me.

  "I’ve never had an orgasm in my relationship with Daniel."

  Silence.

  Jessie collapses backward. "I’m deceased."

  Ana stares at me like I just spoke another language. "You dated for three years."

  "No, no, no. Let me rephrase it—I've never had an orgasm during sex with a man, period."

  Jessie starts writhing on the floor.

  Ana laughs watching her.

  She sits back up. "Not judging, but how's that possible?"

  I’m laughing, but there’s something fragile underneath it. I can’t believe that what used to feel so heavy now sounds almost ridiculous out loud. I almost want to take it back.

  "No, really," Ana says, still smiling. "How did that even happen?"

  I shrug. "I don’t really know. I enjoy sex with him. I mean… I enjoy being close to him. But at the beginning I started faking it so he wouldn’t feel bad."

  Jessie nods slowly. "Okay. That part I get."

  "But then I just… kept doing it," I say. "And after a while, it became the script. He thought everything was great. I made it look effortless."

  Ana tilts her head. "Did you ever try to stop faking?"

  "Yeah. I tried to actually get there," I say, swirling my wine. "But by then he was so used to finishing and rolling over. That was the rhythm. I trained him."

  Jessie blinks. "You trained him."

  "I mean… yeah. Why would he question it? From his perspective, I always came. No complaints. No adjustments needed."

  Ana frowns slightly. "But didn’t he ever check in?"

  "Sometimes," I admit. "After he finished, he’d try. But I’d open my eyes and he’d be staring at the ceiling like he was waiting for it to be over. And then I’d feel self-conscious. Like I was taking too long. So I’d rush. And then I wouldn’t get there. So I’d fake it again."

  I shrug, a little embarrassed. I’ve always felt like I’m late for these things. Suddenly, I’m again in my circle of friends at school, around thirteen years old, while they compare notes on who they’d kissed, who they’d touched, who had gone the furthest. And I just… listened. Pretended I relate. Secretly daydreamed about what it might feel like.

  The same with sex. Flexing at sixteen that I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

  I remember my first time a year later. Jonathan. How nice he was. How I thought it meant something. Only to find a chat with his friend, saying how he still fucked his ex, and making fun of how in love I was. Core memory.

  I pout. "It’s like I built a trap and then got stuck in it." I feel my eyes building up tears.

  There’s a small pause.

  Jessie lifts her glass slowly. "Okay."

  Ana watches me carefully.

  Jessie raises her wine higher. "To retiring from unpaid performance labor."

  Ana immediately clinks her glass to it. "To actual pleasure."

  They both look at me.

  I smile, and join with my glass, "To new beginnings."

  We clink.

  After picking everything up and helping Ana with the dishes, we drift back out to the terrace for a digestive joint. Night has settled, but the air is still slightly warm.

  "Are you guys ready for the prep?" Ana says, distributing the last of the wine into our glasses.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "I’m excited," I grin.

  "I wanna see what you guys are gonna wear," Jessie says. "Let’s match outfits."

  Ana empties her glass in one go, sets it on the table, and disappears into her bedroom. We turn our chairs toward the open double doors. From here, her room looks like a little stage.

  "Okay, so—" She starts pulling pieces from her closet. Tops, skirts, dresses. Holding each one up. "I’m kind of overwhelmed, actually."

  I pass the joint to Jessie and step inside.

  "I already know what I’m doing," I say, grabbing the green satin dress and Ana’s apple-green heels. "This with this. Plus fairy wings and makeup. Solid look."

  Jessie’s eyes go wide. "Yes, yes. I have leaf props we can wrap around your legs."

  She digs into her tote bag, then holds up a handful of pink pieces.

  "If you’re green, I’m committing to pink."

  "Love it," I say. "Ana, let’s pick a color for you."

  "You guys are really good at this," she laughs.

  We start sorting through her clothes. Two main paths emerge: light blue or orange.

  I hold up a light-blue skirt with the prettiest flow, layers of chiffon overlapping irregularly like petals. But there aren’t any tops that really work with it.

  Jessie steps into a hot pink chiffon mini dress, the bodice smooth and fitted, the plated skirt floating out in waves. Thin straps tie behind her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. She finishes it with lace-up pink heels, delicate cords winding up her calves like ribbons.

  She looks like a doll.

  Then we circle back to Ana.

  She tries on a couple of orange dresses, but none of them feel quite right.

  "I actually like the blue color story better," Ana says, staring at the pile. "But nothing matches."

  Jessie scans the remaining hangers.

  "Do you have any blue bikinis?"

  Ana freezes.

  "Oh my god. Jessie, you’re a genius."

  She dives into a drawer and pulls out a velvet ocean-blue bikini top, already slipping it on. She laces the straps carefully around her ribcage and turns to face us.

  Molded cups. Perfect structure.

  We gasp.

  Jessie claps. "We are forest royalty."

  I laugh. "Forest rich brats. What about shoes?"

  "Oh, I have these—" Ana says, pulling out a pair of metallic turquoise heels. Square-toed, thin glossy straps crossing over the foot and meeting at a tiny crystal heart.

  Jessie nods. "Perfect. Okay—" she crosses her arms. "Full looks in five."

  "Commitment is blue toenails," I announce.

  "I’m on it," Ana says, already digging through her polish.

  Jessie switches to stylist mode. And gets all over the place, helping Ana with her nails, wrapping fake ivy vines around my calves. Attaching flowers to her braid extensions.

  "Emma," she says, fingers drifting into my hair, gently untangling it. "Can I do your hair? Wow… it’s really long. Was it always this long?"

  I laugh, pulling a strand over my chest and checking my reflection.

  "Wait," I say. "It really long."

  And softer than usual. Shinier too.

  "I’m having a very good hair day," I add, genuinely surprised.

  "Damn you are," Jessie says.

  I open my arms. "Do whatever you want. I trust you."

  "Can you do mine too?" Ana asks, blowing on her freshly painted toes.

  We fall into an easy rhythm, trying things and asking each other for approval.

  Soft, glimmery makeup.

  Jessie weaves a little ivy crown into my hair. Pink flowers and tiny leaves into her own braids. Ana tucks a daisy behind her ear. We each grab handfuls of plastic flowers to hand out later.

  Wings on. Joint burning low. We drift around Ana’s terrace taking pictures, laughing, floating.

  I snap photo after photo of them, a little mesmerized.

  How does a girls’ night turn into art so easily?

  "There’s magic here," I say without thinking.

  "One more together," I add, propping my phone against a plant. "Jessie a step back. Ana, chin up. Okay—go."

  I run into the frame.

  Flash.

  We freeze the moment.

  Ana grabs her phone. "If you’re good, I’ll call the taxi."

  "Ready," Jessie says. "Wait—can I leave all my stuff here?"

  "Yeah," Ana says. "You can come pick it up. You can sleep here too if you want. The bed is huge."

  We both agree to stay at Ana’s.

  The night feels warm but not heavy. Clear sky. No clouds. You can’t really see stars through the city glow, but the moon hangs there anyway, a thin waning crescent.

  Our Uber pulls up and we climb in.

  As we settle into our seats, my phone buzzes.

  Mom:(If you're feeling disconnected from your partner, now is the time to have honest conversations. This month brings clarity about what you truly want. Trust your instincts when making important decisions.)

  Me:

  It’s funny how sometimes it feels like the universe it’s talking directly to me. But I guess that’s how everyone feels about horoscopes.

  Already moving, I reach over to fix a daisy in Ana’s hair.

  Jessie gasps beside me.

  We turn toward her.

  She turns up the volume.

  A man is yelling.

  "YOU WILL FINISH THIS PRODUCTION OR I WILL—"

  "What? You’ll do what?"

  My stomach drops.

  Jessie turns the screen toward me. It’s a TikTok.

  It’s Dean.

  It’s me.

  It’s Henry screaming.

  Caption:

  Heat floods my face.

  "How did this happen?" I ask.

  Jessie refreshes. "It has eighty-five thousand views."

  "Send it to Dean. Ask if he knows anything."

  Ana blinks. "Can someone explain what I’m looking at?"

  Jessie sends her the video.

  Ana watches the whole thing: Henry yelling at the assistant. The model crying. Me standing up. Henry getting in my face. Dean stepping between us. Henry slamming my laptop. Storming out.

  Ana looks at me. "When did this happen?"

  "Yesterday," Jessie says.

  "Woah… insane." Ana says in shock. "Is this bad for you guys?"

  "I don’t know," I admit.

  Jessie’s phone rings. "Dean’s calling."

  "Put him on speaker."

  She answers.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

  "Hi, Dean," Jessie says. "What’s wrong?"

  "It was me."

  I stare at his stupid profile picture. "Dean. How?"

  "One of the models reached out. Mia. The one who was crying. She wants to file a complaint. Maybe legal action. She asked if I had footage."

  "Oh, Dean," Jessie murmurs.

  "She was so upset, and I thought—fuck, I thought I was helping her. She said she needed proof of how he treated everyone."

  "Maybe ask us first before sending evidence into the internet abyss?" I snap.

  "I know. I fucked up. I’ll pay for a lawyer if we need one. I take responsibility."

  We stay silent.

  "Guys?" Dean says. "Please say something."

  "We’ll meet tomorrow," I say. "Figure out how to protect ourselves."

  He sighs. "I agree. I'm really sorry, Emma. On the other hand—you have to admit that you look pretty badass, your fit that day also, slayed."

  Jessie smiles despite herself.

  "I low-key hate you," I say. "See you tomorrow."

  "No! Love me. Miss you. Bye."

  I end the call.

  We all suddenly realize Henry is still screaming on loop from Jessie’s phone.

  For a second we just stare at each other.

  And then we burst out laughing.

  "Dude, chill," Ana says between laughs. "What was his actual problem?"

  The car stops in front of the venue.

  The entrance is chaos in the best way — feathers, glitter, velvet capes, flower crowns, bodies shimmering under streetlights. People spill onto the sidewalk in small constellations, hugging, posing, adjusting each other’s outfits. The bass from inside vibrates faintly through the pavement.

  The energy is contagious.

  A girl with enormous butterfly wings stops mid-stride when she sees us.

  "You guys look amazing!"

  "Thank you!" Ana beams, handing her one of our spare flowers like a fairy blessing.

  It’s tight. Loud. Warm bodies and perfume and laughter pressing in from all sides.

  Two big groups close in around us, loud and glowing. I take a half step back to create space and lift my phone to check my eyeliner in the camera — I scratched my eye earlier and now I’m paranoid I ruined my wing.

  That’s when I notice Jessie making exaggerated faces.

  She’s pointing behind me.

  Hard.

  "What?" I mouth.

  Her eyes widen.

  I turn casually.

  Tall. Broad shoulders. Impeccably dressed.

  Jessie grabs the back of my dress urgently.

  "What? Is he handsome?" I whisper,

  "No. I mean yes. But—"

  "I’m not looking for love, Jess."

  "Shut up. It’s Liam."

  "Who’s Liam—" I start too loudly.

  Jessie’s face freezes into an awkward smile. She waves slowly. "Hi."

  My brain catches up.

  He’s laughing with a group of friends, head tilted back slightly. Easy. Relaxed. Until he recognizes us. His expression shifts, like we just ruin the party for him

  I’m suddenly standing directly in front of him, having to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes.

  The silence stretches.

  "Hi," he says to Jessie.

  Flat.

  I pull a rose from my bouquet and hold it toward him.

  "Small world. A flower?"

  He looks at the flower. For one suspended second I think he might take it. But he doesn’t. He turns back to his friends, mutters something, and steps out of the line, crossing the street.

  I’m still holding the flower, following the scene.

  I grab Jessie’s hands. "He hates us." My face is burning. "He didn’t even take the flower, not even out of politeness."

  She looks at the plastic rose. "Maybe he’s not a roses guy."

  "Do you think the leaked video will make him hate us more?" The thought hits me late and sharp. "What if this affects Vain?"

  Jessie gives me that tight, teeth-only smile. The one that says she’s trying not to spiral too. "He probably won’t even see it."

  "Jess. Be serious."

  My palms start sweating.

  Ana wraps her arms around both of us from behind, "That video is amazing, and in my opinion makes the studio look good! You guys have morals! Values! That's important these days."

  "I know that's how it looks, but usually, big brands like to stay away from drama." I can feel an episode starting—I search in the back of my head for the clock sound.

  "Emma, would you do something different now that you know all the consequences?" Ana squeezes me harder.

  Consequences. "Not really." And I realize—whatever happens, even if Vain texts me right now saying that they don't want to work with us anymore, it doesn’t matter. I wouldn't have worked with Henry for another second.

  Suddenly, I’m okay with whatever this led to.

  "So you’re fine," Ana says gently.

  "You're good at this! Do you have space for a new patient?"

  She laughs, "I'm actually booked. But it's just a change of mindset, sometimes we are so stuck in our own spiraling thoughts that we don't see it. And look! The line is moving."

  The bass gets louder. We are almost next. And Liam steps back into line with his friends at the last second.