"Mamas, you're acting like I still want her—I don't want her."

JD's voice carried that particular blend of exasperation and careful patience, the tone someone uses when they know they've fucked up but aren't entirely sure how badly. She was leaned back against the driver's side door of her car, arms initially crossed over her chest before she thought better of the defensive posture and let them drop to her sides. The car was parked under one of the few working streetlights in the lot behind the house, far enough from the party that the bass was reduced to a distant thump but close enough that they could still hear the occasional burst of laughter or shouted conversation.

Her girlfriend stood a few feet away, and the space between them felt deliberately maintained. The streetlight cast harsh shadows across her face, highlighting the tight set of her jaw and the particular way she was holding herself that meant JD was absolutely in the doghouse.

She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers working at the tension that had settled there. This wasn't territory she navigated often. JD was good at a lot of things: reading code, mixing tracks, reading people's intentions from a mile away. But this? This was considerably outside her comfort zone.

"We're just friends, ma. Like for real." She pushed off the car. "We're just chill with each other 'cause we've known each other for so long. That's it. That's all it is."

Even as she said it, she could hear how it sounded. Could imagine exactly how that explanation was landing—which was to say, probably not great. The history was there, sure. She and Des had dated for almost a year before they'd both mutually agreed they were better as friends. And they were friends now, genuinely. No lingering feelings, no unresolved tension... she thought it was all cool.

But explaining that while her girlfriend looked at her like that? Yeah. JD could see how that might not be translating.

She took a calculated risk and stepped forward, closing the distance her girlfriend had established. Slow enough to be non-threatening, deliberate enough to show intent. When she got close enough, she hooked her fingers through her girlfriend's belt loops—both of them, thumbs brushing against denim and the warm skin just beneath the hem of her shirt.

"C'mon," she murmured, tugging gently until their bodies were nearly flush. Her hands slid from the belt loops to splay across her girlfriend's waist, palms flat and possessive, fingers curving around her sides. Holding her close. "C'mon, pretty girl."

"I'm sorry."

"I just—" She paused, trying to find words that didn't sound like an excuse even though part of her brain was already constructing several. "I wanted to show you off to her, you know? Wanted her to see my goddess, see what I got, see that I'm with someone who's..."

She trailed off, one hand leaving her girlfriend's waist to gesture vaguely in a way that was meant to encompass everything—her beauty, her presence, the way she carried herself, all of it.

"I handled that wrong," JD admitted, her voice dropping lower, more intimate now that they were close enough for it. Her thumb traced a slow line along her girlfriend's side, right where fabric met skin. "Please don't be mad at me, baby."