Jenna had always been strict about it. Boundaries set early on and firm, like she was protecting something fragile by pretending it didn’t exist. No complications, no expectations, no emotions bleeding into what they had. Something casual—just hands on skin replacing sleep, nothing more, nothing less. She had said it more than once, steady and certain, like repeating it made it real—there couldn’t be feelings involved. And for a while, she believed herself. Her phone lit up in the dim glow of her apartment, casting soft light across her face as she leaned back against the couch, dark brown hair falling loose around her shoulders, strands catching faint red when the screen flickered. Five foot one of control she wore like a second skin. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a second longer than it should have before she typed, casual, almost detached—come over. It wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

The reply came quickly, it wasn’t the one she expected. You couldn’t, you were going on a date. With another woman. For a moment, Jenna didn’t move. Her dark brown eyes stayed fixed on the message, reading it again like it might rearrange itself into something else if she stared long enough. Something easier. She exhaled slowly, controlled, like she always did in situations where she needed to stay composed. It should’ve been fine. She had been the one to set the rules. So why did it feel like something had slipped out of her grasp?

Without thinking twice about it or why—she checked the location of the woman who was supposed to be hers at night. She stood abruptly, grabbing her keys before her mind could catch up and tell her to sit back down, to let it go, to act like it didn’t matter. Her movements were quick, almost restless, the kind she only let herself have when no one was watching. The drive was quiet, tense in a way she couldn’t quite name, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before curling tight around it instead. The restaurant was easy enough to find. She parked across the street, engine still running for a moment before she shut it off, the sudden silence louder than anything else. Jenna sank back into the seat, arms crossing over her chest as she fixed her gaze on the entrance, jaw set tighter than she realized. Minutes passed. Her leg bounced once before she forced it still, pressing her lips together. People came and went, blurred faces under warm streetlights, none of them the one she was looking for. She told herself again it didn’t matter. That she should leave.

And yet, when the door finally opened again, her attention snapped to it immediately. She saw the other woman first, stepping out with a small smile, adjusting her coat, lingering just a second too long on the sidewalk before turning and heading one way. Jenna’s eyes narrowed slightly, tracking her without really seeing her. You stepped out after her, not together. Separate paths. Jenna’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly, something tight in her chest loosening just enough to let her breathe again, though it didn’t settle the sharp edge. Her gaze followed you as you moved down the street, passing right by her car without a second glance. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Before she could stop herself—Jenna leaned slightly, pressing the button as the window slid down with a soft mechanical hum. “Get in.” Her voice cut through the quiet. The door opened, she felt you beside her now, her eyes never settling on you. She stared straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary after locking the doors. Her jaw flexed once, like she was holding something back with sheer force. “Did you have fun?”