Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zoey’s been glued to her phone for the past twenty minutes when she hears the lock of the front door click open.

“Hey guys,” Rumi calls as she walks into Zoey and Mira’s apartment like she lives there too, which, considering how often she comes by and how much of her stuff they keep there, she very well might. “God, am I excited to relax tonight.”

“Long day?” Mira asks, eyes on Rumi as she takes her shoes off and places them neatly next to the sneakers Zoey had unceremoniously kicked off in the corner when she came back home earlier.

“You could say that, yeah. Work’s been absolutely craz—” Rumi stops mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as she stares at Zoey. “What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing’s up with me!”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling! It’s kind of my whole trademark!”

“No, no, you have that smile. The one you always have when you’re way too proud of yourself for doing something mischievous.”

Zoey laughs, ignoring the mellow warmth in her chest at Rumi’s words. So what if her best friend knows her by heart?

“She’s been giggling by herself like a maniac for the past five minutes,” Mira comments. “Very suspicious.”

“Well, joke’s on the both of you because I didn’t do anything bad this time! I’m just chatting with someone.”

“Oooooh.”

Rumi smirks and wiggles her eyebrows. It’s funny. It’s hot. It’s painful—Zoey knows she has no right to want Rumi to be jealous, but it hurts all the same that she’s not. Rumi drops on the couch right next to her just as Mira leans closer to Zoey on her other side, and it’s suddenly a bit hard for Zoey to think coherently.

It’s not the first time she’s found herself in this particular baddie sandwich and yet, somehow, each time it gets worse. She’d thought that, with time, she’d get used to how fucking attractive both of her best friends are. But no. Nuh uh. Turns out exposure therapy is miserably ineffective when it comes to her sex drive.

And, listen. She’s tried. She really, really has. She’s tried to tell her heart (and other parts) that it’d never happen, that if she kept going down this road—falling, falling—she’d only end up with a heart twice broken.

Shockingly, it didn’t work.

She fell hard, keeps falling harder every day, and on top of having to deal with her usual libido—already pretty high, if you ask her exes—and the fact that she spends most of her free time in extremely close proximity with the two hottest women she’s ever seen in her life, she now has to deal with the fact that she’s madly, irrevocably in love with said women, which makes her want them even more and ugh… It’s torture. An exquisite, beautiful torture she nearly never wants to escape.

“Who’s the lucky person?” Mira asks, shoulder brushing against hers, the smell of her shampoo wrapping around her like silk.

“This guy.”

Zoey shows her screen to both of them and grins with very misplaced pride when Mira whistles.

“Damn, nice one, Zo’.”

“He seems… nice?” Rumi offers, and Zoey snorts.

The boy in the picture looks everything but nice: flower-patterned shirt wide open and revealing some perfectly defined abs, smirk arrogant, hair shiny and dyed in a pinkish magenta—not quite unlike Mira’s, but Zoey reaaaally hopes no one in this room will make the connection.

“I don’t know about nice, but he matches my freak!”

As proof, she opens the private messages on her dating app and shows the conversation she’s been having with her latest match, skipping the basic intro lines and jumping straight into the—mildly, for now—juicy part.

Abby – so watchu do

Abby – like for work or studies

Zoey – I’ve just graduated!

“You graduated years ago,” Rumi says, a bit accusatory because god forbid a lady lies on a dating app.

Zoey elbows her. “It’s for the bit, keep reading!”

Abby – dawg that’s dope

Abby – I’m in uni still

Abby – what did you study

Zoey – I’m glad you asked

Zoey – I did my thesis on jerking off and nutting hard

Zoey – and I minored in suckin and fuckin

Abby – nice…

Abby – were you able to get a phd

Zoey – yeah. got a Pretty Huge Dick right here

Abby – hope I don’t get a complex when I see it

Abby – saturday, 6 pm, the hoonmoon bar?

Zoey – oh you smooth

Zoey – bet your abs are smooth af too

Zoey – wear that shirt with the flowers you have on your first pic, I wanna rip it open first chance I get

Abby – bossy. keep the attitude

Zoey – can’t wait to show you my degree’s worth xoxo

Mira snorts.

“You’re such a loser.”

The words would sting, if they weren’t coated in the adoring undertone Mira so often uses when she’s talking about Rumi or Zoey.

“Uh, I’m a funny loser who’s about to bag an absolute hottie, thank you very much.”

“Fair point,” Mira laughs, leaning back against the couch, and really would it kill either of them to act a little bit jealous? Just for Zoey’s sake? “So I guess I’ll have to wear my noise-canceling headphones this Saturday?”

“Pfff,” Zoey scoffs before wiggling her eyebrows at Mira, “as if it’d be enough.”

The truth is, Zoey’s never brought a date back to the place she shares with Mira. Not the unserious ones, at least. But even the few boyfriends and girlfriends she’s introduced to Mira and Rumi over the years never stayed the night. It wasn’t that Mira cared—she made it pretty clear she didn’t—or that Zoey was prudish—please—it’s just that it’d make it almost impossible for Zoey to not think of Mira, and by extension Rumi, while getting railed, and that in itself would be a massive, massive breach of an unspoken rule of friendship.

The only reason why Mira brought the headphones up and Zoey played along was because it coaxed a furious blush out of Rumi. And they’d never pass up an opportunity to make Rumi blush. Especially like that. All embarrassed, tips of her ears red, lips pinched, body very subtly fidgeting on the couch and eyes darting away. God. How can someone so. damn. hot. be so damn adorable too?

Mira takes mercy on Rumi first. She always caves before Zoey, because for all her aloofness and cocky glares, she has the softest heart of the three of them. She changes the subject, mentions that one period romance movie she wants to watch, pulls her phone out to look for some take-out they can order for the evening. She doesn’t ask if Rumi plans on eating with them. At this point, three years into their bordering on codependent friendship, it’s a given that Rumi will stay the whole night and sleep either in Mira’s or Zoey’s bed as she so often does.

Sometimes, when Rumi isn’t staying over, Zoey wordlessly sneaks into Mira’s room after she’s turned off her lights. Mira never kicks her out or expresses any sort of discontentment. She scoots a little to give Zoey some space and wraps an arm over Zoey’s hip as soon as Zoey joins her in bed. They stay there, spooning in the quiet of the night, Zoey’s heart hammering wildly until Mira’s slow breathing settles it. Mira always rolls away at some point, when she starts falling asleep. But she never goes far.

A few months ago, Zoey almost asked if they should get a bigger apartment, with three bedrooms, and invite Rumi to officially live with them. But before she brought the idea to Mira, Rumi brought a new boyfriend to them. And the way she was talking about him, about Jinu, well. It was different. She seemed more sure. Like she cared about him and her relationship with him, which she never did with any guy before, not really—she’d say she did, but the lie was obvious to everyone but her.

So, Zoey had kept quiet. It was probably for the best anyway. She could barely withstand seeing Mira in all her glory when she got out of bed, she wasn’t sure she would survive waking up to both Rumi and Mira every morning.

Rumi stays oddly quiet on the couch while Zoey and Mira try to decide on the amount of food they should order—between reasonable and unspeakable—to the point Zoey glances at her.

“You okay, Rums?” she asks softly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

Mira leans forward, elbows on her knees, cocking her head to the side as she looks at Rumi over Zoey’s lap, her attention quiet and caring.

“You can talk to us,” she says, a gentle reminder Rumi sometimes needs because she too often thinks all the weight on her shoulders is hers and hers alone to carry.

“I know, it’s nothing. It’s—I—”

She falls quiet, frustration evident on her face, and Zoey’s hand immediately darts to Rumi’s forearm, stroking it with her thumb to give her some comfort. Zoey tries to swallow back her worry. Worry that Rumi’s going through something difficult, or that this whole talk has been too much for her. Maybe Zoey shouldn’t have shown them her texts-almost-sexts, maybe that crossed a line. Although she’s pretty sure she’s been way more graphic before. But maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back? Or, in this case, Rumi’s modesty.

“I know it was all a joke with Abby, but…”

Fuck. Fuck, it truly was about the sexting. Zoey did the very last thing she ever wants to do on Earth: she made Rumi uncomfortable. She braces herself, straightening a little as she waits for Rumi to finish before she can fire her already locked-and-loaded apology.

“…do you actually consider yourself… good?”

Zoey blinks.

“Good?”

“At—At sex.”

Rumi’s staring at the floor like it owes her money with interest, tips of her ears now crimson red. Zoey shakes off her shock.

“I mean, I’m not a pro, but I know how to have a good time! And, you know, I’ve never gotten any complaints so far.”

She says it with a light tone and a laugh, unbothered, because she is unbothered but mainly because she wants Rumi to know this subject should never be taboo between them. In all their three years of friendship, it’s the first time Rumi’s mentioned sex on her own, and Zoey’s not about to make her feel even more embarrassed than she clearly is already.

“Why?” Mira asks Rumi, soft and intent.

Rumi frowns, pinches her lips, twists her fingers, and she’s so far from her usual confident self that Zoey feels her heart rate spike.

“Jinu, he… He told me I was boring in bed.”

“He what?” Zoey shouts.

“I’m going to kill him,” Mira growls.

“No, no, guys, it’s okay! He didn’t say it like that! He was kind about it. And, you know… He… He’s right.”

Mira scoffs with such disdain it’s impressive. “It takes two to tango,” she points out, voice low and threatening and hoooly shit, when Mira speaks like this Zoey always gets weak in the knees and wet in the— “If he’s so bored in bed maybe he should question himself instead of putting all the blame on you.”

“No, no,” Rumi sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “It’s not on him. He’s been trying, you know? Asking to test new things without pressuring me about it. I just always chicken out. Or, I don’t know. It’s not that I’m scared, I just…” She sighs again and shakes her head, as if clearing her mind from intrusive thoughts. “Anyway.” She looks at Zoey and gives her a small smile. “Between you who’s graduated in, what was it, suckin’ and fuckin’, and you—” She leans slightly to stare at Mira, “—who probably can’t even remember the number of girls and occasional guys she’s slept with this year…” Mira shrugs with a smug and annoyingly sexy smirk. “…maybe you could help me? Get less… boring?”

“You want us to teach you how to be freaky in bed,” Mira says, voice flat.

Meanwhile, Zoey’s brain’s slowly rewiring after getting completely fried by 1. hearing the words suckin and fuckin spoken in Rumi’s smooth and rich voice, 2. realizing what Rumi is asking of them.

“I—I guess I am, yeah? Although that’s—That’s weird, right? God, that’s totally weird, just—forget it guys, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinki—”

“I’m in!” Zoey exclaims as she stands up from the couch so abruptly Rumi and Mira both start. “Ooooooh boy Rumi I’m SO in! I have a billion ideas already! I need some time to prepare though—”

“To prepare?” Rumi squeaks.

“—so let’s start tomorrow, okay? Here, after work?”

“What do you mean prepare?”

Rumi’s voice gets even higher and Zoey laughs, adrenaline already buzzing through her veins, thoughts juggling at the speed of light in her head.

“You’ll see!”

She flashes the both of them her signature thousand-megawatt smile. Mira snorts and Rumi whispers “Oh, god” in a horrified way, but her lips still quirk up and Zoey can see the fondness in her eyes as she gazes at her.

“Okay!” she claps her hands and bounces up and down on her feet, unable to contain her growing excitement. “Okay, okay, okay!! I’m so fired up, I need to start prepping things right away. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“But what about movie n—”

“Byyyyye!”

Zoey ignores Rumi’s and Mira’s bewildered expressions and all but runs and locks herself in her room, chuckling with unadulterated mischief and joy. You’d think they’d be used to her antics by now, but no. Somehow, she still manages to pull these looks out of them: confused, suspicious and fond. And she cannot wait to see their faces when she shows them what she has in mind right now.   

***

Mira brings her a plate of food in her room. Well, not in her room, because Zoey only cracks the door open with an excited “Don’t look!” that makes Mira squint at her.

“Thank youuu,” Zoey says as she takes the plate away.

“You’re such a dork.”

The last thing Zoey sees before she closes the door is Mira’s affectionate eyeroll.

***

When Rumi lets herself into their flat the next day after work, Zoey greets her with a bright smile and a “Hello, Rumi. Please take a seat.” Rumi narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything, taking her shoes off and sitting exactly where Zoey’s indicating with her hand: on the middle of the couch, next to Mira.

“Am I in danger?” Rumi whispers to her with fake panic, loud enough for Zoey to hear.

“I think we’re all in danger,” Mira snorts. “I could hear her snicker ominously well past 3 a.m. last night.”

Zoey winces. Sometimes, she forgets how thin the walls are in their apartment. Her room being next to Mira’s, she can hear it when Mira sneezes—an adorable, high-pitched little sneeze that Zoey never tires of making fun of.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Rumi says with a frown.

“That’s because you sleep like the dead.”

“Sorry,” Zoey mumbles, shooting Mira an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“You didn’t.”

She can’t help but wonder if Mira’s blatantly lying to her face just so Zoey doesn’t think she’s a burden. It’s something Mira would do. White lies, unspoken truths, hidden discomfort to make sure her friends don’t feel bad for the small things.

“Come on,” Mira drawls, stretching her arm on the back of the couch behind Rumi’s shoulders, not quite touching, but lingering, “show us what you’ve been working on.”

Zoey perks up and grins, snatching the remote from the coffee table and turning the TV on.

“Zoey,” Rumi starts, warning in her tone, “I swear to god if you make us watch porn I’m going t—”

“What?! No! I mean I definitely considered it but no, that’s not it!”

Mira laughs, her clear, unfiltered belly laugh that only a handful of people on Earth have had the chance to be blessed with, and Zoey promptly shoos away the butterflies swirling in her stomach all of a sudden. She’s so hopelessly gone for both these women it’s ridiculous. But oh, well. She gets their friendship, and that’s worth all of her sanity and then some.

She fiddles with the controls, remotely connects her phone to the TV and shouts a victorious “Aha!” when her phone screen appears on the wide TV one.

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Rumi murmurs, wonder in her voice, and Zoey bites back a laugh. For all her innate talents and finely honed skills—languages, sports, music, the list goes on—Rumi’s always been completely illiterate when it comes to technology.

“Okay!” Zoey stands by the TV, smile so big it hurts her cheeks. She’s beyond excited. “Are you ready?”

She doesn’t even wait for the deep grunt and small chuckle Rumi and Mira give her as an answer and taps on her phone, the TV brightening with the first glimpse of her hard work from last night.

“Oh. My. God.” Rumi blurts while Mira bursts into a loud cackle.

They’re both staring at the first slide of Zoey’s PowerPoint, the background a light salmon pink with glitter and tiny, artful sketches of wieners (that Zoey drew herself, thank you very much). On it reads, in white and bold letters:

Zoey’s guide to getting down

A tasteful lesson in copulation

“This is the best day of my life,” Mira whispers with awe while wiping away her tears, just as Rumi hides her face in her hands and groans, “I’m going to die.”

“You’re going to have a blast!” Zoey corrects with a devilish grin, already delighted by her friends’ reactions. “And don’t worry, Rumi,” she adds with a wink, “I’ll send you the PPT after the presentation is done.”

“Somehow, that was not on my top ten list of concerns for tonight,” Rumi mumbles while Mira wheezes hard on the couch next to her.

“Okay girls, let’s get to it! Welcome to Zoey’s guide to getting down! A masterclass by yours truly, in which we’ll learn how to get it on nasty style!”

She says it with exaggerated eyebrow pumps and a shit-eating grin that makes Mira double over with laughter while Rumi tries very hard not to start laughing too, despite the blush overtaking her cheekbones.

“Now, before we get to the heart of the matter…” Zoey swipes on her phone and, on the TV, the glitter explodes and the little penises crawl to the side like panicked worms before the next slide appears, a simple question that takes most of the screen: ‘WHAT IS SEX?’

“Did you do the transition yourself?” Rumi asks with shock while Mira keeps laughing so hard she leans against Rumi and buries her face in her shoulder.

It’s such a small thing. Two people sharing an unassuming but intimate moment, something plenty of best friends do every day. Yet it sends a pang of longing through Zoey’s chest. What she’d give for this to turn into something more. For a world in which Mira would lift her face up towards Rumi’s, and Rumi would catch her smile in a soft kiss. A world in which Zoey would get to see the two people she holds the dearest in her heart express the love she herself is feeling, a love that goes far beyond friendship, a love that threatens to spill out every second of every day, when she watches them do the most mundane things and has to restrain herself from confessing on the spot. A world in which they’d love each other, and love her back too.

She locks her feelings tight in her heart and scoffs, “Of course I made the transition myself. Now!” She gestures at the screen. “Who here can tell me: what is sex?”

Mira straightens up, very serious all of a sudden, and Zoey can sense the bullshit coming from a mile away.

“Well, you see,” Mira starts with frightening solemnity, “when mommy and daddy love each other very m—”

“Ew ew ew! Mira!” Zoey shouts, and this time Rumi can’t suppress her laugh, loud and hearty and warming up Zoey’s insides.

That’s what she wants, what she’s tried to achieve with her silly title and goofy penis-squirming transition. To take away all the drama and taboo surrounding sex, to have Rumi see it in a fun and free light, as something important, yes, but that can still be easy and casual.

“Please never say those words again,” Rumi breathes out in between two shakes of laughter.

Mira shrugs, but her smile is proud.

“Okay, so, definitely not the answer I was looking for,” Zoey grumbles. “No, sex is…” She swipes on her phone once more and the next slide appears, the tiny penises wiggling back on the screen. Admittedly, she’s spent way too much time working on those transitions, but seeing her two friends gasp and laugh some more when they notice is worth all the all-nighters in the world.

“…a means to an end!” she finishes, reading the text on the screen. “Now, why do we have sex? Rumi?”

Rumi straightens up on the couch, hands flying to her knees, falling into the perfect grade A student persona with such ease Zoey knows she’s only half faking it.

“To procreate?”

“Yes, very good! What else?”

“To blow off some steam,” Mira supplies.

A very Mira-like answer, if you ask Zoey. In the three years she’s known her, she’s never seen her get into a serious relationship. Only hook-ups, sometimes at quite an impressive rate.

“Yup, it’s a way to cater to some basic physical needs. Anything else?”

“To please your partner?” Rumi says, this time a bit shier.

Zoey decides to completely brush away the implications, at least for now, but her heart squeezes hard in her chest nonetheless. Instead, she goes the cheerful, supportive road.

“Yeah, that can go in the ‘connecting with your partner’ box!” she says, shooting Mira a quick but pointed look when she notices the frown on her face and the way her lips part, as if to comment.

Mira shuts her mouth, leaning back against the couch, but her gaze is now intense as she looks at an unsuspecting Rumi from the side.

“It can be a way to express love or affection,” Zoey continues, “and also, very simply, it’s a way to have a good time! It’s just fun! So, Rums, why do you have sex?”

Rumi’s cheeks turn bright red, eyes darting away with a frown. “Uh…”

“There’s no wrong answer.”

It comes from Mira, the words kind and encouraging, and Zoey catches how Rumi’s shoulders immediately sag a little, as if relieved of some tension. Yeah, Mira has that effect on Zoey quite often.

“To connect with Jinu, I guess?”

Mira bumps her shoulder against Rumi’s. “Is that the only reason?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have, like, physical needs?” Zoey asks. “It’s totally okay if you don’t! Or if you do, but don’t want to act on them with a partner!”

“No, no, I do. My libido’s just fine. It’s just—” Rumi sighs. “It’s nice, with Jinu, but sometimes I think it’s not worth the trouble, you know?”

Zoey doesn’t know, no, but she keeps her mouth carefully shut.

“I don’t always want to when he does, so I have to get in the mood, and afterwards I have to take a shower, and we have to change the sheets, it’s just… a lot of effort for something that’s just… okay.”

Zoey kind of wants to throttle Jinu to death, right now. What do you mean, you get to bang the absolute hottest girl in the world (well, the title’s evenly shared with Mira) and all you manage to make her feel is “okay”? What do you mean you’re not turning mountains upside down to find out what she likes and dislikes, what gets her going, what makes her squirm and moan and—Okay. No. Focus, Zoey.

“What the fuck, Rumi,” Mira lets out. “I really am going to kill him.”

Rumi laughs. “It’s okay, I promise! I’m not forcing myself or anything. When I truly don’t want to I just say so and he doesn’t care. But he’s right, you know? Our sex life is kind of boring, and I know it’s on me. I didn’t ask for your help just for him. Maybe if I—if I try new things, get out of my comfort zone, it’d be more fun for me too.”

Zoey claps her hands, or as best she can while holding her phone, grin back on her face.

“You’re totally right, and that’s why we’re here! Okay so, full disclosure, this whole presentation is basically just a list of kinks you can try with Jinu if you feel like it. Nothing you wouldn’t be able to find on the internet. But! This is a safe space! We can talk about it and answer your questions, and you can, like, explore it a little here, see if it’s something you might actually enjoy, you know, test the waters before you decide to jump in with Jinu or not!”

“That’s—” Rumi takes a deep breath and nods. “That’s good. I like that.”

Zoey beams and ignores the fondness in Mira’s smile as she stares at her—Mira’s always fond of Rumi and Zoey, it doesn’t mean anything, she’s just a very caring friend even if she doesn’t want people to know it. She puts on the next slide, catches the way Rumi’s breath hitches and her fingers almost imperceptibly dig into her thigh.

“Alright Rums,” Zoey says, voice gentle.

She sits on the one-person sofa not far from the couch. It doesn’t quite face Mira and Rumi, but she gets to be at eye-level with them—she thinks this way it might be a bit easier for Rumi to open up. She glances at the TV, then back at Rumi. “How do we feel about that one?”

“I… um… I’ve never…”

Rumi’s furiously blushing, but she’s not looking away from the screen and the bold letters on display: ‘DIRTY TALK’.

“It’s a bit… too crass? I think?”

“It doesn’t have to be crass,” Mira comments. She’s now half lounging, head propped on her hand and elbow on the back on the couch, languid in her posture and words. “It can be just nice praise.”

Rumi snorts. “What, you want me to call Jinu a good boy?”

Zoey laughs out loud.

“Oh god, can you imagine? That’d be so funny!”

“So, what? Do I tell him he’s doing a good job?”

“That’d be quite the lie,” Mira notes, quirking an eyebrow. Rumi shoves her elbow in her ribs, but there’s no bite to it and Mira simply chuckles before continuing, “Just, I don’t know. Find something specific that he does and that you like, and compliment him about it. If he’s not an ass, he’ll do it again.”

“That’s just positive reinforcement,” Rumi points out.

“Maybe, but if it gets you more pleasure and makes him happy, it’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know,” Rumi mumbles, staring at the hands she’s now twisting on her lap. “Feels disingenuous. And I don’t see how it would make things hotter.”

Mira slides a light finger under Rumi’s jaw and gently forces her to look back at her. Oh. Fuck. Zoey’s mind goes blank for a second.

“I like how honest you are,” Mira murmurs.

Her voice is positively filthy. Low and confident and a bit raspy, every word pouring down Zoey’s lower stomach like molten lava. Zoey’s not the only one affected. Rumi’s eyes have widened so much it’d be comical if they weren’t shining with a sudden burst of… God, fuck, that can’t be arousal. That can’t—Rumi can’t—She’s straight—But then again, it’s Mira we’re talking about, Mira who could be on the cover of every Vogue magazine, Mira who’s had more conquests in the past six months than Zoey will ever have in her whole life, Mira who knows women, intimately, instinctively.

Zoey’s walked in on her with someone once. Buried four knuckles deep into a girl so lost in her—loud—pleasure that she didn’t notice Zoey stumbling in the living room. Mira had noticed, though. And the smirk she had sent Zoey, at that moment, had been so obscene—predatory, so fucking pleased—that Zoey had turned around and walked out of her own apartment without a word. She had crashed at Rumi’s place, that night. Her hands were still shaking when she had knocked on her door.

In Mira’s defense, Zoey wasn’t supposed to come home, but her date didn’t go as well as she thought it would, and so, there she was. Staring at her best friend, who she was hopelessly in love with, as she fucked a stranger within an inch of her life. Two years later and it still haunted her at night (during the day, in the shower, at work, all the time).

So, yeah. If anyone can unravel Rumi with words alone, it’s Mira.

“I—”

Rumi chokes on the rest of her sentence when Mira slides her fingertip along her throat.

“I like how your breath catches when you get flustered. How you try to hide it by correcting your posture.” Mira drags her eyes down, from Rumi’s, to her mouth, to her chest rising with a sharp breath and the shoulders Rumi squares ever so slightly. “Yeah,” Mira whispers before staring back into Rumi’s eyes, her own now piercing. “Just like that.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Zoey rasps.

Mira’s hand drops back on her thigh as she leans once more against the couch, all the fire in her gaze smothered into something duller, as if all of it had just been an act.

“See? It doesn’t have to be crass,” Mira drawls.

“Jesus christ, Mir’,” Rumi whispers, slumping against the couch, cheeks furiously red. She takes a deep breath and blinks a few times as if to collect her thoughts. “That was… Wow.”

“Think you could do that to Jinu?”

Rumi laughs. “Are you serious? There’s no way! I don’t know how to talk like—like that!”

“Like what?” Mira asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Rumi fidgets on the couch.

“I don’t know, just—Your voice is so…” Rumi clears her throat and shakes her head. “I don’t have your experience.”

“Fake it until you make it,” Mira shrugs. “Come on, try it.”

“Wh—Now?”

“Yeah, why not? That’s what this whole thing is for. Just picture Jinu instead of Zoey and give him some smooth talk!”

Zoey swallows, mouth suddenly very, very dry, as Rumi turns her—luminous, a bit startled—gaze towards her.

“I can’t do that,” Rumi finally breathes out, looking back at Mira. “I can’t just picture Jinu instead of—”

“Then do it to Zoey.”

Zoey goes still when she feels Mira’s eyes on her. Even more when Rumi stares at her again.

“I—” Rumi starts, stammering, “I don’t—”

“Just be honest. Find something you like, and say it.”

“But—” Rumi’s blushing, still looking at Zoey, fear flashing in her eyes for the briefest moment. She sucks in a breath and turns to Mira. “I mean, I compliment you two all the time, how is it any different?”

“The intent is different,” Mira easily answers. “You don’t want to make her happy. You want to turn her on.”

“Good god,” Zoey lets out. She didn’t mean to speak out loud, even less for her voice to sound so fucking broken, but whatever. She’s too far gone. “For what it’s worth, Rums, I don’t think it’ll take much.”

She tries to laugh, to convey it as a joke, but her laugh falls flat and her smile falters when Rumi just… stares at her. Intensely. Like she’s truly considering it. Considering what she could say to turn on Zoey.

Then, without looking away—her eyes burning, burning all the way to Zoey’s soul—she tells Mira, “Help me.”

Oh. Oooh, this is how Zoey dies.

“Remember last month?” Mira murmurs, gaze anchored on Zoey and shit, shit, shit, what the hell is even happening right now?! “When we went to the arcade and those two rude guys were playing darts in the corner?”

Rumi bites the inside of her bottom lip. It’s subtle, but Zoey notices. And now Zoey’s staring at Rumi’s mouth. Rumi’s pretty, sensual mouth.

“It’s hard to forget,” Rumi finally says.

Her lips move around the words, slow and so fucking inviting and—Fuck, god, okay, no, this is bad, this is really bad. Zoey snaps her eyes back to Rumi’s. Faint memories wash over her like waves onto the shore, laughter from teens gathered around a pinball machine, two men throwing darts straight into the wall instead of the target, Jinu kissing Rumi before going to the bathroom, Mira looking away and Zoey pretending she doesn’t want the night to be with just the three of them.

“Remember how she told them off when they tried to get your number after you said you weren’t interested?” Mira continues, voice slightly lower, eyes still fixed on Zoey. “Teared them a new one, and then grabbed those remaining darts and shot a bullseye three times in a row?”

“Yeah,” Rumi breathes out with a chuckle. “‘That’s how you throw a dart, you tools’, is what she said. God, that was so…”

“Tell her.”

Tell her. Tell her what. What is going on right now? Is Rumi truly about to practice dirty talking with her?! That was not part of the plan. Sure, Zoey had hoped to get some cute little flustered expressions from Rumi, maybe some bolder words from Mira, but—

Rumi stands up and Zoey’s train of thought wrecks under her now towering presence. She walks to the sofa Zoey’s sitting on—squirming, shit, she’s squirming in her seat now—crouches in front of her and lifts her gaze to meet hers.

“Just be honest,” Mira repeats at her back.

Rumi nods, never averting her eyes from Zoey’s. Zoey’s always loved them, that mesmerizing amber often turning to gold under the sunlight, how expressive they are, even when the rest of Rumi’s face is completely neutral.

“I’ve never seen you like that,” Rumi murmurs. Zoey feels herself blushing so hard the room might have warmed up by a couple of degrees. “You were so fierce. So protective.”

“They were being assholes,” Zoey mumbles, looking away, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. How did the tables turn so fast? “And they were making you uncomfortable.”

She feels fingertips on her chin and holds back a whimper when Rumi turns her face towards her. Just like Mira had done to Rumi. Fucking hell, how could she have forgotten that Rumi’s the fastest learner on Earth?

“It was hot, Zo’.” A whisper, yet it rings in Zoey’s mind louder than thunder would. “You were hot.”

Okay. Okay. Okay. Just chill the fuck down, Zoey. Rumi’s straight. Rumi’s with Jinu. Rumi’s practicing. For her boyfriend. But fuck if it feels genuine, those hushed words, that bright spark in her eyes, the way her fingers are trailing off along Zoey’s jaw.

“Honestly?” Rumi continues, voice cracking up a little, “I’ve thought about it a lot, this past month.” She’s just—making things up. Straight up lying to get an A+ on her assignment. “The way you humiliated those guys? God, Zo’. If Jinu had done that, I’d probably not have let him sleep that night.”

Zoey’s sudden intake of breath is so loud it seems to snap Rumi out of it, and she hastily stands up.

“Or—Or something!” she blurts with a nervous little laugh before plopping back down on the couch next to Mira. “Just trying my hand at dirty talk. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Mira’s voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it that sends Zoey spiraling—as if she wasn’t already losing her goddamn mind at Rumi’s words. “That was good, Rumi.” She smirks, glancing at Zoey, before adding, “Very effective.”

Oh, that little…

“Okay!” Zoey squeaks, feeling heat spread from her face to her neck and chest—and down, down, down. “Here you go, Rumi, one tool in your arsenal! Obviously there’s a lot more to dirty talk than this, like, it can get actually very nasty, but I think it’s a good place to start. We can—We can move on.”

She swipes on her phone, frantic, and moves to the next slide.

“Hair pulling,” she reads out loud, praying to whatever god is out there that her blush doesn’t show. “Have you ever tried that?”

“No.” Rumi frowns a little. “It seems like it’d be painful.”

“Pain can be good.”

Both Rumi and Zoey’s attentions zero in on Mira, who crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “What? It can. Don’t tell me you don’t like a bit of pain, Zo’.”

Oh, Mira’s reading her for filth today. But Zoey won’t back down without a fight.

“I do. I’m just surprised you do too.”

Mira smirks. “Who said I liked receiving it?”

Zoey gets dramatically wet by the mental image of Mira biting, spanking, slapping. It must be showing all over her face, because Mira’s smirk widens. It’s so alike to the one she’d given Zoey that day she’d walked in on her with someone else. So fucking hot and knowing and, ugh. God dammit.

Mira’s infuriatingly sexy and she knows it.

“Anyway,” Zoey groans, focusing back on Rumi and choosing to ignore the amused smile on her face—can any of her best friends not get wildly entertained by how turned on she is right now? “Pain can be good, yes, whatever. Hair pulling isn’t supposed to be too painful, though. Not when it’s done right.”

Rumi looks so very amused and Mira so very arrogant still that Zoey makes a spur-of-the-moment decision.

“Mira, you should show her,” she says with a roguish grin.

See how they like it when they’re thrown into the shark-infested waters.

“Sure.” Mira immediately turns to Rumi. “If that’s okay with you.”

“What? Oh, um—”

Rumi’s smile is gone. Yeah. Serves her right. Who’s about to get turned on now!

“Okay,” she murmurs.

“I promise it won’t hurt, not in an unpleasant way.”

Mira speaks in a reassuring tone, straightening up and raising her arm, words gentle even though her movements aren’t—they’re not brutal in any way, but they’re decisive. She slides her hand along the back of Rumi’s head, under her pristine braid. Zoey can’t quite see what’s happening, but she can pinpoint the exact moment Mira curls her fingers into Rumi’s hair. Because Rumi takes a very sharp breath through the nose. And then, Mira tugs.

Rumi’s head falls backward, just a bit, while a surprised gasp tumbles out of her parted lips. Mira pulls some more, dragging Rumi’s head backward, exposing her long and pale throat even more—Zoey wants to mark it, Zoey wants to lick and suck and sink her teeth into her tender flesh—and a strangled little noise escapes Rumi’s mouth.

It's Mira’s cue to release her, and Rumi’s shoulders sag as she blinks, eyes slightly hazy. The silence that follows is charged. Zoey’s one PowerPoint slide away from losing all composure and jumping the both of them. Mira’s breathing is deeper, her gaze fiery, her hand—the one that had pulled at Rumi’s hair—flexing on her thigh. And Rumi? She looks stunned. Startled, even, when she realizes they’re both staring at her.

“Yeah,” she rasps, clears her throat, continues, “Yeah I—I didn’t mind the pain. It was, um… manageable.”

Manageable. Pleasurable.

“You should—” Mira’s voice falters, and victory would taste so good on Zoey’s tongue if she wasn’t so uncomfortably wet. “You should ask Jinu to do that. Or try it on him. I feel like his hair is long enough.”

Rumi clenches her jaw, something unreadable flashing in her eyes as she stares at Mira. A beat, and then, “Can you teach me how?” Her gaze travels to Zoey and pins her to the sofa. “On Zoey?”

“Oh god, no,” Zoey blurts out, the words impulsive and panicked. She notices the flicker of hurt in Rumi’s eyes and immediately adds, “It’s not that I don’t want to! God, that’s not it, not at all. It’s just—It’s—It’s kind of my kryptonite? Amongst other things. Okay, a lot of things set me off, but hair pulling is definitely one of them and I—Uh—You’re just—very pretty—objectively speaking! And I uh—I know I’ll react if you—I mean if any pretty girl pulls my hair like that—”

Oh god, ooooh god she’s doing a terrible job at looking detached and mature and unbothered and like she’s not at all madly attracted to her best friends right now.

“I don’t mind,” Rumi whispers. Zoey stills. Doesn’t even breathe. Just stays there, frozen on the sofa, while Rumi swallows, shiny eyes on hers. “I don’t mind if you react, Zo’.”

“I—” Zoey falls quiet, heart hammering so strongly in her chest it might break a rib. “Okay.”

Rumi’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zoey breathes out with a nod. “Just—You’ve been warned.”

Mira stands up, cocking an eyebrow at Rumi then Zoey when they just dumbly stare at her from their seats. She sighs, the shadow of a smile on her lips, before crooking her index finger twice.

“Up.”

Zoey’s on her feet before she can even process it. Muscles snapping to attention at Mira’s detached command. Withholding a whimper. It’s like her body was made to obey her. And the worst part? Mira fucking knows it. Her smirk is disgustingly smug, but she doesn’t make a comment. Thank god.

“Ready?”

Rumi nods at Mira.

“Slide your fingers up her hair, from the top of her neck.”

In that very moment, Zoey thinks she’s glad she chose to wear her hair down today. It’s the last conscious thought she has. Because Rumi does as she’s told. She slides her fingers up Zoey’s hair, nails then fingertips slowly running along her skull.

“Now grab a fistful. You want to stay as close to the skin as possible, so that it doesn’t hurt.”

And Rumi, studious, conscientious, perfectionist Rumi keeps doing as she’s told. She curls her fingers into Zoey’s hair, close to the skull, and it doesn’t hurt. No. It feels fucking phenomenal.

“There you go,” Mira praises with a nod. “Now you can tug and pull, as long as you show some restraint, it won’t hurt. Try it.”

Rumi tries it. Rumi tugs. A little. Putting the tiniest amount of strength in the movement. Dragging Zoey’s head back, just a few centimeters. Zoey’s mouth falls open. A stuttering gasp escapes her. Rumi pulls a bit more, and Zoey’s eyes roll to the ceiling. She feels her blood pulsing in between her legs. Knows she’s wetter than she’s ever been in her life. It doesn’t matter if it’s practice. It doesn’t matter if Rumi’s just using her to better please her boyfriend.

Rumi’s pulling her hair. Rumi’s pulling her hair. And Mira’s watching. Assessing. Approving.

Zoey holds it all in, as much as she can. She doesn’t want to give herself away, to scare Rumi off, to cave and fall apart and expose just how tremendously attracted she is to the both of them. But she’s also… Zoey. And she’s been repressing a lot of things for the past three years, love and attraction for not one but two women who seem to enjoy her company way more than anyone else’s. It’s only a matter of time before one last drop shatters the whole dam.

“Does it hurt?”

Rumi has to whisper like that, huh? She has to sound so caring and uncertain, with a strain in her voice that Zoey tries very hard not to read into. Zoey shakes her head. She doesn’t trust herself and the things she’ll say if she starts speaking.

“Do you like it?”

Zoey tries to nod, but Rumi tightens her grasp around her hair and holds her head still, and fuck, fuck, fuck. She can feel Rumi’s focused stare on her. Knows that if she dares look, she’ll be forever fucked. But… But she can’t not look. She needs to know what Rumi’s thinking, the expression on her face. Is she neutral? Disgusted? Overthinking? Absent, picturing Jinu instead of Zoey? Or is she—Is she—

Zoey chances a glance. Rumi’s gaze sears her all the way to her bones. She pulls, and Zoey stifles a whimper.

“Do you like it?” Rumi repeats her question, way less tentative, demanding, even, in a controlled way that makes Zoey’s knees buckle.

Zoey breaks. She breaks, and she moans.

It’s indubitably, egregiously sexual. It seems to send an electroshock through Rumi’s body, because she suddenly releases her hold and takes a step back, eyes wide and stunned. Fear shoots through Zoey’s veins.

“Shit, Rumi, I—I’m sorry—I—”

Panic swells—she’s made Rumi uncomfortable, she’s made Rumi feel unsafe, she’s made Rumi realize Zoey’s desperately gone for her and now Rumi’s about to reject her—but before it can truly overwhelm her, Rumi walks right back into Zoey’s space and wraps her arms around her.

“Zoey, no,” she murmurs, tucking her face into the crook of Zoey’s neck. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who pushed things too far. I’m sorry.”

“I—”

“You’re perfect.”

Zoey lets out a long, relieved sigh, holding Rumi close, letting Rumi’s strong and certain presence calm her down.

“I’m sorry,” Rumi repeats, now stroking Zoey’s hair. Zoey closes her eyes. She doesn’t know why Rumi’s apologizing. She didn’t do anything wrong. “I got a bit—lost. In the moment. I didn’t know I could feel—I didn’t know it could be so, um… fun.”

Fun. Rumi had fun pulling her hair and breaking her until she fucking moaned.

“And you’ve seen nothing yet.”

It comes from Mira, so full of care and fondness Zoey’s heart aches. She takes a step back, ignoring the twist of immediate loss in her stomach, and looks at Mira. She’s smiling, but it’s not smug or knowing or mocking. It’s so fucking soft, and Zoey has to look away.

“Do you—Um—” Rumi hesitates. “Do you want to continue?”

“It’s up to you,” Zoey tells her honestly.

“I just don’t want to cross a line.”

Zoey snorts, back to her normal self now that she’s seen both her friends so openly care for her. “Rumi, I get to help my friend and to have some sweet action with an absolute bombshell, I’m more than happy to keep going, as long as you both are!”

“I’m enjoying the show,” Mira says with a smirk that makes the both of them laugh.

“Okay, alright.” Rumi smiles, the spark back in her eyes. “Then let’s keep going. If only because I want to see that transition again.”

“I knew the crawling penises were a good idea!” Zoey chirps, all but launching herself on the main couch—she’s tired of being away from them, and yes, she’s aware that she’s being extremely needy considering she’s still in the same room and at an arm’s length from them.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she adds with a grin she knows is devilish. “Rumi’s a goner for the wieners!”

Mira barks out a laugh while Rumi drops on the couch next to Zoey with an offended scoff. It doesn’t deter Zoey in the slightest.

“Can’t go wrong with the schlongs!”

“Oh my god,” Mira keeps laughing as she sits by Zoey’s other side.

There you go. The baddie sandwich. Just as God intended.

“Getting drunk on the junk!”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Rumi chuckles.

“You’re about to,” Zoey quips, wiggling her eyebrows at Rumi.

She grins even wider when Rumi laughs some more. And blushes. Rumi blushes. Maybe she’s just a bit embarrassed by the whole thing still, but after what just happened, after she admitted she lost control while pulling Zoey’s hair? Fuck, Zoey’s not so sure how to read her reactions anymore.

“Okay! Let’s move on. Next entry is…”

She taps on her phone. Her face falls when she reads the words on the TV—she’s forgotten what comes next, sue her. Mira lets out a raspy chuckle.

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” she breathes out, clearly delighted.

Zoey rolls her eyes and does her very best to stay composed and not give Mira the satisfaction of being right.

“Dry humping,” she says flatly.

Rumi’s gaze lands on Zoey’s… mouth. And then, eyes. “Okay, don’t laugh, but… what’s ‘dry humping’?”

“Oh!” Zoey blinks. She didn’t hallucinate, right? Rumi did stare at her mouth. “It’s when you, like, grind against each other while being clothed. Kind of like trying to masturbate over your clothes!”

“I can’t do that,” Rumi snorts. “I’d look so stupid.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mira says. “Trust me.”

“Yeah, no, you really wouldn’t, Rums. And I can bet all my savings—the whole two won!—that Jinu would enjoy it.”

Still, Rumi shakes her head in disbelief. “So I just… rub myself against him?” she asks with a wince. “While we’re still clothed? How is that even pleasurable?”

Good lord, this woman. How on Earth does someone so damn hot, who’s been in multiple sexually active relationships, manage to have such little awareness when it comes to sex? Men, Zoey thinks to herself with an internal eyeroll, although she’s starting to think it might not be the sole source of the problem.

“Just trust us on this one,” Zoey says with an air of faux wisdom. “It can be quite pleasurable. And it doesn’t look stupid. It looks plain hot, actually.”

Rumi seems to mull it over for a second, before nodding to herself.

“Show me, then. On Mira.”

Rumi’s tone is challenging, her eyes setting ablaze once more, and if Zoey were to listen to her gut—heart, pussy, whole fucking body—she’d just jump onto Mira’s lap and give the both of them the show of a lifetime. But her brain is, for better or worse, still somewhat functioning, and she knows Mira will be outright insufferable for years if she gets the upper hand this whole night.

“We’ll show you. But!” Zoey turns to Mira and raises her eyebrows. “Mira’s the one doing the grinding.”

See how she fares, being the one in an embarrassing position for once. Mira just scoffs, looking Zoey up and down, gaze full of contempt and sending a delicious shiver down Zoey’s spine. God, what she’d give for Mira to be nasty, to put her on her knees while calling her the cruelest names, to ruthlessly grab her jaw and appraise her like she would a simple toy. Zoey likes it rough. Zoey likes it mean. But only when she feels safe. Only when she knows it’s an act. And believe it or not, it’s quite hard to find someone she fully trusts, yet whose words could still cut her open like a fine blade.

Someone like Mira.

“I don’t think it’d work,” Mira eventually drawls, before gesturing vaguely at Zoey. “Size difference and all.”

“Pffffff,” Zoey rolls her eyes, crossing her arms above her chest. “Coward.”

Mira laughs, easy and full, as if she’d been expecting Zoey to bite back, before sighing and shaking her head, still smiling.

“Fine,” she agrees, the word lazy. She gestures at the one-person sofa. “Grab your seat, Rumi.”

“Oh my god, that’s literally a cuck chair,” Zoey whispers, awestruck by the epiphany. “I need you two to know that I’ll refer to this as the cuck chair and only the cuck chair for the rest of my life.”

“Of course you will,” Rumi says with a snort as she stands up and sits on said cuck chair.

Mira gives Zoey her trademark crooked smirk.

“We wouldn’t expect any less of you, babe.”

Her voice is fucking sultry and Zoey’s brain completely short-circuits. Because Mira’s on the prowl. Kneeling on the couch and angling her body towards her. Coming for her.

“And now,” Mira purrs, “you just lay back—” She pushes a confident hand against Zoey’s chest, just over her heart— “—and relax.”

“Jesus fucking christ Mir who gave you the right to be so fucking hot?”

Zoey doesn’t even care anymore. What, is she supposed to pretend Mira’s not the sexiest woman alive?! While the other sexiest woman alive is fucking watching them?! Nuh uh, fuck that, fuck self-control, fuck everything. Mira’s out for blood, and Zoey doesn’t have the strength or will to save herself anymore.

She falls on her back, lying down on the couch, still warm from Rumi’s body heat. Mira immediately straddles her, her long hair falling around her face and tickling Zoey’s neck. Zoey tucks some locks behind her ear, just so that Rumi can fully see their faces from her seat, before she flashes a cheeky grin at Mira.

“Come on, tiger. Dazzle me.”

Mira snorts, lowering herself and, oh. They’ve cuddled before, of course. On the couch, in bed, in the corridor, hell, they’ve even cuddled in a restaurant’s bathroom, once. And yeah, sure, sometimes Zoey would get aroused. She’s just a girl. But she’s always managed to rein it in and ignore it.

She’s not sure she can ignore this.

Mira’s chest pressing against hers. Her eyes shining so bright, cutting and searching, unmistakable in their intent. The hand she’s trailing down Zoey’s arm and then slotting firmly onto her hip. The way she pins her against the couch, powerful and certain. The leg she pushes in between Zoey’s. The pressure is light, more to show rather than to actually do, but Zoey’s breath hitches nonetheless.

“Hey, no, not fair,” she croaks.

“How’s this not fair?”

Mira almost sounds completely unbothered. Almost. But Zoey spots the slight raspiness in her words, and it makes her immensely proud.

“You—” Zoey shoves Mira’s thigh with her hand. It barely budges, but it’s enough for Zoey to not feel it anymore—even though her body screams that it wants the complete opposite. “—have to show Rumi how pleasurable it can be. For you.”

Mira goes rigid. It lasts two seconds, but it’s enough for Zoey to know that she’s gaining the upper hand.

“Come on,” she says, smile wild. “Get yourself off on my thigh, Mir’.”

She emphasizes her words with a perfectly timed bend of her leg, which presses against Mira’s—warm, jesus christ—crotch. To her credit, Mira barely reacts. But she still slips, her breath faltering almost imperceptibly.

Zoey’s ready for Mira’s rebuttal, for her to pull away or to at least put some distance between their bodies before grinding on air to show Rumi the basic movements. She realizes a second too late that it’d mean Mira would admit defeat, and that? That hardly ever happens.

“Fine,” Mira mutters.

She sits up, resting her weight on Zoey’s thigh, and she presses her hands flat on Zoey’s stomach. Zoey wishes, oh, how she wishes she could feel them directly on her skin. But it’d defeat the whole purpose of this dry-humping study and so, in a show of immeasurable grace, she accepts her fate. This is already so much more than she’s bargained for anyway.

Mira looks at Rumi, who’s sitting completely frozen on the sof—cuck chair! It’s like she doesn’t even dare breathe. Zoey would laugh, if she didn’t fucking get it. Mira stares for a moment and, as if she’s found an answer to her silent question in Rumi’s fascinated gaze, she turns her attention back to Zoey and starts to move.

It’s slow. Measured. Mira rocks herself against Zoey’s thigh with purpose, unhurried, each back-and-forth a statement in itself. She’s not touching any particularly sensitive part of Zoey’s body but, well… Zoey feels each drag as if it was directly against her clit all the same.

It’s insane. This whole thing is absolutely insane. How did she go from “I bet these wiggly wieners will def help Rumi relax and have a casual talk about sex with her two best friends” to this??

And as if all of this wasn’t enough, Mira picks up the pace. She’s not grinding against Zoey in earnest, not by a long shot, but it’s faster and a bit messier. She’s frowning, fully focused now. Biting her bottom lip. Staring into Zoey’s eyes as if she wants to read her very soul. Without thinking, Zoey places her hands on Mira’s hips. They fit so naturally she doesn’t even second-guess her gesture. Mira’s breath shortens, from the effort or from something else, Zoey’s not quite sure yet. Although she has a strong suspicion.

Zoey’s wearing her baggy jeans, and Mira her favorite light pink sweatpants. The double layer of thick fabric feels like the ultimate cock-blocker for Zoey, but there’s also something so fucking enticing about Mira having to work that much harder in order to—fuck. To get herself off. For a dizzying second, Zoey wonders if Mira intends to go all the way.

“Enjoying the show?” Mira rasps, not even bothering to look at Rumi—no, she’s locked in on Zoey, and Zoey’s suddenly terrified Mira can somehow feel how drenched she is.

When Rumi doesn’t reply, though, she turns her razor-sharp gaze to her. Zoey also chances a glance towards Rumi and completely forgets to breathe at the sight. Because Rumi looks wrecked. Eyes wide open, like a deer caught in headlights. Nails digging into the fabric of her pants, so deeply her knuckles have whitened. Thighs pressed tight against each other.

“Still think it looks stupid?” Mira pants out, voice faltering only a fraction when she cocks her hips in a particularly forceful way.

It drags a choked moan out of Zoey. A quieter one out of Rumi.

“No,” Rumi croaks. “No, it’s—This is—Fuck, guys.”

It seems to get to Mira just as much as it does Zoey, because Mira groans and roughly jerks her hips, heat now pouring from her crotch and through the thick layers of their pants. And then, Rumi goes for the kill.

“Does it feel good?” she whispers.

“Fuck.”

It’s almost a growl, falling out of Mira’s pretty mouth, and Zoey has to close her eyes for a second lest she does something extremely stupid like flipping Mira over and taking her right there on the couch for Rumi to see. She opens her eyes again and gazes at Mira.

“That’s not an answer.”

Because, fuck it, Zoey will see Mira all flustered and shy today.

“Fuck you, Zo’.”

Okay, so, maybe not shy. But she’s definitely flustered, her high cheekbones turning red, her eyes darting away, her movements slowing down. Zoey squeezes Mira’s hips, pushes and pulls, silently telling her to keep the rhythm, to not fucking stop.

“She’s right, you know?” Oh. God. Rumi’s voice is lower than Zoey’s ever heard it. “That’s not an answer.”

“I’m just—” Mira huffs and bites her lip hard. “I’m just showing you how to do it.”

“What’s the point, if it doesn’t feel good?”

Zoey could kiss Rumi on the mouth. For a lot of reasons, really, but at this very precise moment because she’s giving her what she desires the most: a very embarrassed Mira.

“It does, okay?” Mira snaps—gasps, really, fingers curling into Zoey’s shirt. “Fuck, it really does.” Her voice turned plaintive, and it does so, so many things to Zoey.

“God,” she whines. “Mira, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I know,” Mira huffs.

Zoey can’t help it: she snorts. So does Rumi. And after a beat, Mira joins them too, finally stopping her grind. Soon enough, they’re all laughing their hearts out, and it’s almost hysterical, a relief from all the tension that’s been building ever since the first slide, and it feels good, it feels normal, it feels like them. There’s no one else out there Zoey could do this with. Have such a charged moment with, only to dissolve into laughter the next second. It fills her with so much love she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

“Fucking hell, guys.” She’s still laughing, feeling light and happy and so fucking horny. “Come here.”

She wraps an arm around Mira’s waist and pulls her against her, and she makes a grabby motion in the air towards Rumi, asking her to come join them. Rumi doesn’t need to be told twice. They end up a messy, giggly pile on the couch, a tangle of warm limbs shaking with laughter until they finally calm down. They fall into a comfortable silence, relaxing into the cuddle. Zoey likes feeling both their weights combined on top of her, Mira’s face buried in the crook of her neck, Rumi slightly off-center, head resting on Zoey’s shoulder.

She loves them so much.

“I love you so much.”

It jolts her. Rumi putting her thoughts into words at the very same moment Zoey’s thinking them, and it makes her melt all the more. She’s so beyond fucked.

“I love you too,” Mira mumbles, nestling a bit more against Zoey.

She knows they don’t mean it that way. She knows she’s the only one hoping for more, even though she has no right to. And it hurts, fuck, it hurts, but the love they do have for her still feels like enough, still fills her with joy and warmth and peace of mind.

“You guys are huge saps,” she teases. They both laugh, and she whispers, “I love you too.”

She wants to cry, but she’s not sure why.

***

At Rumi’s request, they stop there. They eat, watch a movie and stuff their cheeks with popcorn, before Rumi decides to go back home.

“I just need my bed,” she tells them by way of an explanation.

Zoey doesn’t read into it. She gets it, really. She also needs some alone time tonight, admittedly for very different reasons.

When they say goodbye by the front door, Rumi hugs them both. It’s tight, and Zoey knows their friendship has come away unscathed from the whole thing.

“Thank you for tonight,” Rumi whispers into Mira’s shoulder when they hug, a hand squeezing Zoey’s. “It was helpful. Really.”

Mira smiles into the embrace. “Happy to be of service.”

“What she said!” Zoey says softly.

That night, Zoey puts her earbuds on and some random porn on her phone. She comes fast and hard, eyes locked on the screen. She knows that if she dares close them, all she’ll think about is Rumi and Mira. And she can’t do that.

She has done that a handful of times over the years. But it’s always felt more like an indulgence rather than a transgression. She’d make up a crazy scenario in her head, one that makes it possible for the three of them to end up fucking—not even dating, no, Zoey wouldn’t put her heart through that—and she’d ride her fingers until she comes with a stifled moan. It was harmless. Fantasies she’d conjure in the dark, with versions of her friends that didn’t exist in real life.

But tonight? Zoey knows she’d only think of the very real Rumi and Mira and the very real things they’ve done together earlier. It’s a line she won’t cross. Because even if what they don’t know can’t hurt them, down the line it would hurt her.

So, she watches porn, and she doesn’t think of them when her orgasm takes over and leaves her gasping on the bed. She gets up a few minutes later for her usual last-pee-before-bed, washes her hands and stares at herself in the mirror. She feels… quite good, honestly. She’s had a good night. Strange, wild, but good. She comes back to bed, puts her phone on silent and tries to sleep. She can’t. Because her mind’s racing a hundred miles a minute, because her body’s still pent up, that one orgasm nowhere enough to have given her what she truly needs, and because, after a while, she hears a moan.

A moan.

Coming from Mira’s bedroom. Long, raspy, barely smothered by the paper-thin wall. For a fraction of a second, Zoey genuinely wonders if Mira’s snuck one of her regular booty calls into their apartment without Zoey noticing. But no, Mira wouldn’t do that. She’s always, always warned her beforehand, ever since the “living room incident”. Which means…

Another sound. Another moan.

Mira’s moan.

Fuck.

Zoey’s no prude. She knows Mira masturbates. Hell, Mira sometimes mentions it herself, an offhand comment about her vibrator dying the night before, or a grunted “I need to rub one out” when she comes back home after a long day. But Zoey’s never heard her. They’re both well aware of the walls-so-thin-they’re-almost-inexistent situation, and both are considerate of their room neighbor. Zoey had to learn to be quiet—not an easy feat, for someone whose default is loud all day every day—and she’s always suspected that Mira’s just naturally silent when it comes to pleasure.

And yet.

Mira moaned. Twice. And now Zoey can hear a distinct groan seeping through the wall, followed by a dizzying quietness that has Zoey hold her own breath. She’s fully alert, senses electrified, heart pulsing, hands gripping the sheet and her pajama shorts so tightly she might rip the fabric. She’s attuned to the silence, so deafening there’s a buzz in her ears, eyes wide open as if it’d help her hear better and teeth biting into the inside of her lower lip, wondering if she’ll get to hear Mira again, wondering if that groan was Mira finishing, wondering what Mira was thinking about when she fin—

A high-pitched, muffled sob shatters the silence, and Zoey rolls on her stomach and shuts her eyes with a whimper. She knows for certain that Mira just came. And it drives her insane.

She rides her hand, bites her pillow, frantically rocks her hips as she chases her pleasure, and when she comes for the second time tonight, too loudly for Mira not to hear her, all she can think about is Mira’s weak cry of pleasure and how fucking good it sounded.

***

They don’t talk about it. Not about Rumi’s relationship with Jinu, not about the PowerPoint, not about how they got so worked up over the whole thing they both had to touch themselves as soon as they went to their respective beds. They have a nice breakfast together, chat about the most random things while they clean up, and they go on with their day.

Zoey sees Abby in the evening. She doesn’t even pretend she’s there for anything other than sex. She pays for their drinks—what, he’s still a student, come on—and drags him out of the bar not even thirty minutes after they’ve met. She asks him to show her the nearby studio he lives in and he happily obliges.

Abby’s stupid, handsome and oddly considerate. The whole thing should be fun, but ends up being tremendously underwhelming compared to Rumi’s fist in her hair and Mira’s choked sob seeping through their shared wall. Zoey doesn’t even want to spend the night, knows there’s nothing left for her here aside from a quick and cold shower.

She comes home more frustrated than she left it, and she plops down on the couch next to Mira with a heavy sigh as soon as she’s kicked her shoes off.

“I didn’t think you’d be back tonight,” Mira says by way of greeting, setting her book on her lap while Zoey slouches and rests her head on her shoulder. “Your date didn’t go well?”

“It was fine.”

Zoey closes her eyes and sighs when Mira leans her head onto hers.

“Didn’t live up to the hype, uh?”

Zoey snorts, nuzzles further against her friend, lets her perfume soothe her—Mira smells like roses.

“I wasn’t expecting much to begin with.”

Mira hums. Zoey can feel the ghost of a kiss on the top of her head, and she feels so happy, all of a sudden, that she forgets about the deep hunger that’s been gnawing at her since last night.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Mira whispers.

Zoey smiles and all but melts against her.

“Me too.”

***

“I think I’m ready for another lesson.” A pause, then, quieter, “If you’ll have me.”

Rumi doesn’t need to mention the PowerPoint; it’s pretty obvious it’s all the three of them have been thinking about for the past week.

“Of course we’ll have you,” Zoey says, fond and hopeful and trying very hard to not dwell on Rumi’s specific choice of words.

“I take it things are going well with Jinu?”

Mira asks as if she’s unbothered, all detached and aloof on her side of the couch, but Zoey notices the slither of tension in her voice like she would a lighthouse in the dead of the night. They haven’t mentioned Jinu at all, since their first lesson. And, yeah, they haven’t seen Rumi, which is odd for them considering they never go more than three days without seeing each other, but they’ve still texted a bunch every day, called, even, a couple of times. They had plenty of opportunities to ask, but they didn’t. The subject’s too raw. Too volatile. And Zoey wants to hear the answer just as much as she doesn’t.

“Yeah,” Rumi says with a smile after a while. “Yeah, things are going well.”

That’s… good. They’ve helped Rumi. She’s bonding with Jinu. Sexually. Thanks to Zoey’s PowerPoint. That’s good. Yup. Super good.

Rumi looks a bit guarded now, a clear sign that she doesn’t want to elaborate on the matter, and Zoey’s grateful for it. She’d rather not visualize Rumi doing all those things with him. It’s laughable, really, because if she were to picture Rumi getting railed by a complete stranger, Zoey would find it painfully hot. But Jinu isn’t a stranger. He’s Rumi’s boyfriend. He’s here to stay, a glaring reminder that Zoey can’t have her, not like that.

“Glad to hear it,” she lies through her teeth.

Maybe that’s a good thing for everyone. Maybe, this way, Zoey can finally move on.

***

It occurs to her now, while she’s straddling Rumi on the couch, her hand wrapped around Rumi’s throat and squeezing, Rumi’s pulse beating against her fingertips at a maddening pace and Rumi’s eyes anchored on her own with something akin to frenzy in them, that, actually, she’ll never be able to move on.

Because, here’s the thing. There is absolutely no denying that Rumi’s turned on. To the point her fingers spasm and her nails bite into the flesh of Zoey’s thighs, to the point her lips part, more and more, whenever Zoey tightens her hold around her throat.

Zoey’s been incomparably good, fighting against every instinct with the strength of a thousand-man army, keeping her lips sealed and her grip light. But Rumi’s fingers jerk one more time against Zoey’s bare skin—bless her sleepy morning self for deciding to wear short shorts today—and Zoey’s hips act on their own and rock into Rumi, once.

The gasp escaping Rumi is lewd. And Zoey… Well. She loses it.

“Fuck…”

She leans forward and presses her forehead against Rumi’s, fingers constricting Rumi’s throat, their pads deliciously sinking into soft flesh and their nerve endings picking up the rush of blood, the tension in the tendons as Rumi swallows, the way her muscles subtly loosen and harden at each trembling breath.

“You’re…”

Zoey’s words die at the tip of her tongue, smothered by a want she can’t voice. Instead, she tightens her fingers more, unable to stop as she feels Rumi’s body shaking under hers, as Rumi’s eyes don’t let go of her, ever, as if Zoey was her anchor, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

She tightens, and tightens, and tightens, until the weakest whimper falls from Rumi’s parted lips and brutally snaps Zoey out of it. She leans back, stunned, but as soon as she unclenches Rumi’s throat, Rumi snatches her wrist and pushes her hand back against her, taking a deep, wheezy breath as she does. Only now does Zoey realize she’s really been choking her, actually cutting the flow of air, yet Rumi’s hold on Zoey’s wrist stays strong and determined, telling her to stay.

“Oh, Rumi,” Zoey murmurs, leaning forward again and reapplying the pressure Rumi’s so clearly begging for. “You’re such a freak.”

Rumi’s whole body twitches at her words and Zoey fucking moans, driven mad by how empty she feels—empty, empty, she needs something inside her while she chokes Rumi, she needs someone to fill the void, satiate the hunger, quiet the thoughts.

Zoey grasps more firmly at Rumi’s throat and watches Rumi’s mouth as it beautifully parts open again. She squirms under Zoey, taking deeper breaths through the nose, to compensate for the airways that keep narrowing under Zoey’s uncompromising but apparently more than welcome touch.

Zoey’s never seen her like this. All pliant despite the wild fire raging in her unwavering gaze. Ready, it seems, to take everything Zoey would give her.

And good lord does Zoey want to give.

“Jesus christ.”

Shockingly, it doesn’t come from her but from the right side of the couch, where Mira has been staying perfectly still and silent until now. Before Zoey can even look at her, Rumi taps twice on her thigh. Zoey immediately drops her hand and leans away, watching as Rumi’s shoulders sag and her chest heaves with a few gulping breaths.

“Shit, was that too much?” Zoey bites the inside of her bottom lip and cups Rumi’s flushed face with both hands. “Are you okay? I’m sor—”

Rumi raises a finger, almost touching Zoey’s mouth, which Zoey promptly shuts.

“If you apologize for this,” Rumi rasps, “even just once, I’m not taking you to the Seodaemun museum next month.”

Zoey’s immediate reaction is to get offended because how dare Rumi threaten to not honor their biyearly visit to the museum of natural history. Her second reaction is to snort because, after giving it thought for half a second, there’s no way Rumi would ever not take her, not unless she breaks her leg the day before or something equally dire. Her third reaction is to pause, blink and get very, very still, as she realizes what Rumi said, and what Rumi meant.

“So… it wasn’t too much?”

Rumi shakes her head, her cheeks noticeably heating up under Zoey’s hands.

“No. I—” Rumi’s palms drag up Zoey’s thighs, her thumb curling into her flesh, inward, grazing the hem of Zoey’s shorts. Zoey’s short shorts, and with the way she’s sitting on Rumi’s lap right now, they’re basically some glorified boxers, which means Rumi’s thumbs are really, really close to her— “I liked it.”

Mira whines. Mira whines. Which, Zoey gets it, hell she’s so fucking wet right now Rumi can probably feel it—the thought doesn’t turn her on even more, no, no, that’d be wrong—, but it’s a teasing opportunity Zoey’s not about to pass up.

“What’s that, Mir’?” she asks, glancing at her and shooting her a cocky grin.

“Nothing.” Mira clears her throat. “Just an itch. Whatever, back to the matter at hand. This—” She gestures towards Zoey and Rumi, still slotted together on the couch “—was absolutely not what I meant when I said choking could be done in a safe way.”

“Hey! Rumi was perfectly safe!”

“She was gasping for air.”

“Excuse me, she was getting the exact amount of air she was asking for!”

“Guys, enough,” Rumi chuckles. “I felt great and this was a very valuable lesson. Now scoot.”

Her tone is light and her smile is genuine, but her voice still has a breathless quality to it that sends a flash of heat in between Zoey’s legs. Fuck. She lifts herself off Rumi’s lap and sits in between her and Mira, and she can practically feel Mira’s smug little smirk before Zoey even glances at her. Lo and behold, Mira’s staring at her with the most self-satisfied look on her face.

“She can barely talk,” she whispers with a nudge of her chin towards Rumi.

Zoey snorts and rolls her eyes, shoving her elbow into Mira’s side.

“You’ve been insufferably arrogant today.”

“And you’ve been insufferably bratty,” Mira shots back, unimpressed. “I hope the next slide gives me a good excuse to put you in your place.”

Holy—

“Nope!” Zoey shrieks, jumping to her feet as if the couch had burst into flames. “It won’t!”

Her voice is too high-pitched, her eyes too wide, and Mira’s grin way too fucking pleased, but the true nail in her suddenly sex-crazed coffin is the little giggle Rumi lets out, a soft and pretty sound, mortifying and sensual in equal measure. It makes Zoey fumble as she grabs her phone on the coffee table.

“What a shame,” Mira’s low voice accompanies Zoey’s trembling fingers as they swipe on the screen.

The small penises swarm around the seven bold letters that started the past feverish five minutes, making their way twice around the word ‘CHOKING’ before scattering, the slide transitioning into the next one.

Truth be told, Zoey’s in no shape to remember what she put in there, and she has to hold back a relieved sigh when nothing particularly dangerous appears on the TV—although, if she had to be really honest, a part of her is quite disappointed too.

“Zo’, you can’t be serious,” Mira breathes out, eyes glued to the screen.

“What! It’s hot!”

“I’m not saying it’s not hot, just that it’s a lot.”

“Not if he can handle i—”

“What’s pegging?”

Rumi’s soft voice silences the both of them. Past Zoey, in all her beautiful genius and PowerPoint creative delirium, didn’t take into account the magnitude of Rumi’s ignorance when it comes to sex, nor the fact that current Zoey would have to explain what a lot of things mean. It’s fine. She can do this in a way that won’t freak Rumi out.

“Okay, so, pegging is when you, uh, gear up, and then give a guy the time of his life through the backdoor.”

“Oh my god.”

Mira raises her eyes to the ceiling, as if begging to a god she doesn’t believe in to give her the strength to endure this. A bit dramatic, if you ask Zoey, who crosses her arms and looks down at her—she has the height advantage, for once, considering she’s standing and Mira’s still sitting on the couch, and she fully intends on taking advantage of it.

“A problem?”

“That’s the absolute worse way you could have phrased it.”

“Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Zo’, you really made no sense to me.”

“I was trying to be considerate! Polite! Inclusive of everyone’s sensibilities!”

Mira rolls her eyes, but before Zoey can straddle her and shut her up with a vicious bite on her lower lip, she turns to Rumi and deadpans, “Pegging is when you fuck a guy with a strap.”

“Oh.” Rumi blinks and goes redder than a tomato in a millisecond. “Oh. Oh no. No I—Jinu wouldn’t like it—”

“Rumi.” Zoey’s voice is so serious that Rumi immediately falls quiet, body tensing as she takes in Zoey’s grave expression, even more when Zoey tucks her phone in her back pocket, steps closer, leans forward and places two heavy hands on her shoulders. “I cannot stress enough how completely certain I am that no one on this planet could resist you wearing a strap.”

Mira nods, quite vigorously, even, and Rumi’s glowing blush spreads all the way to the tips of her ears. Her eyes drop to her lap—but they stop on their way, landing on Zoey’s lips for the briefest moment, and it’s not the first time, and it’s starting to mean something, and Zoey’s getting this very silly idea that Rumi might not mind if Zoey lost all self-control and crashed their mouths together, right here in front of Mira, and—

“I just know he won’t like it.”

Zoey takes a second to collect her wandering thoughts, before stepping back with a reassuring smile.

“No probs! I put it out there just in case, but you obviously don’t have to try everything with him!”

She pretends she’s not affected by this whole thing, by Rumi staring at her mouth, by the mental picture of Rumi wearing a strap, by the faint and pinkish imprint of her fingers still lingering around Rumi’s throat.

“There’s only a couple of slides left,” she announces as she grabs her phone and plops back down in between Rumi and Mira.

She swipes and lets out a small laugh when ‘PUBLIC SEX’ materializes on the screen amongst dancing wieners.

“Oh yeah,” she breathes out. “I forgot about this one.”

Before Rumi can even react to the new slide, Mira stands up.

“Let me get my keys.”

“What?” Rumi asks, as confused as Zoey feels, before realization hits her. “Mir’, we’re not leaving the flat to see if I’m into public sex.”

Zoey laughs, delighted.

“Why not?” Mira shrugs. “Isn’t it the whole point?”

“We’re not going outside.”

Rumi’s words sound final, yet there’s that glint in Mira’s eyes, that unmistakable sign that she wants to challenge Rumi and be a little bitch about it. It doesn’t happen often but, when it does, Zoey likes to have a front-row seat.

“We don’t have to,” Mira says casually, too casually. “We can just go to the elevator.”

Rumi huffs and, defiant, she crosses her arms over her chest.

“And what, make out until we reach the lobby?”

The shift is drastic, from playful bickering to whatever the fuck this is, and for a few seconds neither one of them dares to breathe. The words hang between their frozen bodies like dropping bombs, the air heavy with now-spoken possibilities. Rumi snaps her wide eyes from Mira to Zoey, and, oh.

There’s that hint of fear again.

“We’re not leaving,” she whispers, looking back at Mira, before speaking more fully, “Besides, I’ve already tried it.”

“Really?” Mira asks, surprised, at the same time Zoey blurts, “What? When? Where?”

“Just—” Rumi frowns, pinching her lips as if debating saying more. “Just a few weeks ago. In Jinu’s car.”

“In Jinu’s car?!”

Maybe Zoey shouldn’t be so shocked but, in her defense, it’s Rumi they’re talking about. Rumi who until one week ago didn’t know what ‘dry humping’ meant. Rumi who has to take a shower and change the sheets whenever she has sex. Rumi who literally asked her best friends to help her get “less boring in bed”.

“Was it in his garage?” Mira asks, sitting back down. “Because if it was, I’m not sure it counts.”

“What? No! Why would we even—No, it was outside the… outside a bar.”

Ooooh, Rumi’s being extremely suspicious right now, but before Zoey can even attempt to unpack this brand new can of worms, Rumi takes a sharp breath and straightens up on the couch.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I tried.”

“And?”

Mira and her billion-won questions.

“And it wasn’t what I needed.”

At this, Zoey frowns. She remembers their first lesson, how Rumi said having sex was a way to please her partner.

“Did you feel obligated to do it?” she asks, very cautious, but Rumi immediately puts her at ease.

“God, no! I’m the one who initiated it.” She is?! “I thought it’d, um, help. But in the end it was just uncomfortable and frankly a bit gross.”

Ah, there she is. Still, Zoey’s left with twice as many questions as she initially had.

“Help with what?”

Mira’s words, however simple and neutral, seem to completely petrify Rumi. She stays still on the couch, face furiously reddening, jaws clenching as she’s clearly trying to figure out a decent answer for them, and it makes Zoey a bit sad. After everything they’ve done together, is Rumi still not comfortable enough to tell them something as simple as “I got horny in a bar”?

“I—” Rumi suddenly stands up. “I need to go. I, uh, I forgot I told Jinu I’d see him tonight. Sorry.”

It’s the lamest fake excuse Zoey’s ever heard in her life, and she’s too taken aback to even start spiraling about the obvious lie.

“Rumi…” Mira tries, but Rumi’s already at the door, stumbling on one foot then the other to hastily put her shoes on.

“I’m sorry guys! Thank you for the lesson!”

She blows them both a kiss and yanks the door open. Rumi always hugs them before she leaves, yet tonight it’s like she’s desperate to put as much distance between them, as fast as possible.

“Ru—”

“Love you!”

At least, she doesn’t slam the door behind her. A small saving grace that doesn’t make Zoey feel any better. On the other side of the couch, Mira looks stunned.

“Well shit.”

“Do you think we went too far?” Zoey asks in a murmur—the words hurt as they leave her mouth.

“I don’t know,” Mira sighs, rubbing the spot in between her eyebrows with her thumb. “Maybe? But we’ve done so much more, I don’t understand why this would be her tipping point, and not, I don’t know, you choking the air out of her for five minutes straight?”

Zoey lets out an awkward giggle, feeling heat pouring back between her legs at Mira’s husky voice and at the memory.

“Yeah, it’s weird. Maybe it’s because it’s about her actual sex life? She’s never shared anything about her and Jinu being intimate, so could it have been too much for her? Too real?”

Like everything else doesn’t count, because they’re all girls, and Rumi’s straight. Shit, is Zoey onto something? Is Rumi not taking any of this seriously because she’s not attracted to them? Or, rather, because she’s not supposed to be attracted to them. A slightly different choice of words that matters immensely to Zoey right now.

“Maybe.”

Mira sinks a bit more into the couch, a frown on her supermodel’s face. She’s thinking, Zoey knows, and is as affected by this whole mess as Zoey feels. It means Zoey’s not overreacting. Which would be a good thing if it also didn’t mean that Rumi was, in fact, acting super fucking weird. Acting uncomfortable.

Zoey feels guilty for the rest of the evening.

***

That night, Zoey comes back from her shower and finds Mira sitting on the edge of her bed. She’s holding herself like she would in front of a recruiter, back ramrod straight, hands diligently placed on her knees, face carved into perfect neutrality.

“ ‘sup?” Zoey asks, already closing the distance between them.

She can’t help it. There’s a pull, you see, when it comes to Mira and Rumi, an anomaly in the laws of physics that redefines her center of gravity whenever one of them is in sight.

The infinitesimal twitch of Mira’s lips is a blatant and scarce show of nervousness, and Zoey doesn’t think, just slides her hands on Mira’s cheeks and softly brushes her thumbs over her cheekbones. She thinks of Rumi earlier today, of the same way Zoey had cradled her face, of Rumi’s openness and easiness and eagerness, and for the sixtieth time tonight she wonders where everything went wrong. She wonders if anything actually went wrong, or if Rumi’s not just… figuring things out.

Mira leans into the touch, a hand coming to rest on top of Zoey’s, soft and shy.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

Zoey doesn’t know what she expected—not this—but once again she doesn’t have to think. She wraps her arms around Mira’s shoulders, pulls her against her chest and sets her chin on top of Mira’s head with a sigh that only deepens when Mira slides her hands around her waist and holds her tight.

“Of course you can.”

***

They spoon, and it’s like always, except Mira doesn’t roll away when she falls asleep. Zoey feels it as she would the first drop of rain after a drought; a tentative yet vital sign of change.

For the first time since she’s met them, she takes a risk, and she lets herself be hopeful.

***

Her hope is short-lived, crushed by the enormity of Rumi’s silence. She hasn’t texted or called in two days, despite them regularly checking in on her, and it’s driving the both of them insane.

“Fuck it, we’re going to her place.”

Mira’s powerwalking towards the front door, car keys in hand and Zoey at her heels, when their phones ping. The way they both frantically reach for their pockets and fumble to open their lock screens is objectively hilarious, but all Zoey feels at this moment is sheer relief when she opens the group chat and reads Rumi’s first text in two days.

Rumi – Hey girls, I’m so sorry for not replying sooner. Everything is okay!

The three dots appear, disappear, reappear, and Mira and Zoey exchange a look as they wait for Rumi’s next message. It never comes. Instead, the dots vanish one last time and Rumi calls them.

“Rumi!”

“Are you okay?”

There’s a laugh at the other end of the line. It’s small and a bit tired, but it’s hers: melodious and loving and genuine.

“Yes. I’m okay. I’m really sorry about not texting you. The past two days have been crazy. How are you two?”

“We’re fine!” Zoey forces her voice, strained high with everything she’s been feeling recently, to drop down a couple of notes. “What’s up with you? Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes.”

It sounds more like a sigh, soft and light, and Zoey knows that sound by heart. It’s the one Rumi makes whenever she comes by after a rough day and crashes on their couch, pulling their bodies against hers and finally letting go of some of the tension stiffening her neck and shoulders. The one she makes when she feels at home.

“I’m so sorry for worrying you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Although… Not right away.”

“Rumi, what’s going on?”

Mira’s tone is patient but leaves no room for nonsense. She wants answers, and she wants them now. So does Zoey. Rumi sighs, this time more burden than relief.

“Work got crazy, someone made a mistake in the last financial report and it blew up and—Anyway, I’ll spare you the details. It’s fixed now, at the cost of a lot of overtime. And I had to spend some time with Jinu.”

Had to. Not wanted to. Still, she could have spared half a minute to send them a quick text and let them know she was still alive. But Zoey keeps her thoughts to herself, noticing Rumi’s taut voice and the way it cracked a few times. She truly sounds exhausted.

“It’s okay, Rums,” she says instead. “Wanna come over tomorrow and have a super chill sleepover?”

Tomorrow’s Saturday, after all.

“I can’t.” A pause, then, “That’s why I’m calling, actually. Celine’s redoing her annex and she wants my help. I’m going over there for a week. I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Zoey locks eyes with Mira, and she knows they’re thinking exactly the same thing: what the fuck? It’s not uncommon for Rumi to hop on a train and visit Celine in Busan for a few days, but the timing is horribly suspicious. They do a “lesson”, Rumi freaks out and brutally ends it, doesn’t give any sign of life for two days, and then immediately leaves the city for a week?!

Mira’s the first to react. She keeps her cool, voice perfectly even, and Zoey wonders if Rumi can hear the frustration Zoey can so clearly read on Mira’s face when next she speaks.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow at 9.”

“Come over tonight.” Mira’s offer feels more like a test. “I can drive you to the station.”

“Oh, I—Thank you, but I want to spend my last night with Jinu.”

It feels like whiplash; one moment Rumi saying that she has to spend time with her boyfriend, and the next that she wants to.

“No problem,” Mira shrugs, but she can’t hide her frown. “Just asking.”

They keep talking for a bit, random things about Mira’s and Zoey’s past few days, Celine’s project, Rumi canceling a few meetings to work from her aunt-slash-mom’s home next week. It all feels hollow. It all feels like Rumi’s going above and beyond to avoid them.

It’s only when they hang up that Zoey realizes the coup de grâce: Rumi won’t be there for her birthday next Friday.