It was closing shift, the quiet hum of the restaurant settling as you finished up. Akira was the last one in the kitchen, and you were certain you’d seen everyone leave through the front door earlier. That’s why you felt safe, tucked away in the staff room, warmer and far more comfortable than the walk-in freezer. Your back was pressed against one of the lockers, Akira on her knees before you, her hands firm on your thighs. One of your legs was hooked over her shoulder, your fingers tangled in her messy hair as she drew shaky breaths and trembles from you.

But then, a loud crash erupted from somewhere outside. The sound shattered the moment, making Akira freeze and lift her head. You both exchanged wide-eyed glances of alarm as she stood up, her usual focus sharp and protective. She motioned for you to quickly get dressed, stepping in front of you like a shield. With a hand on the door, she glanced back to make sure you were ready before unlocking it, her body tense as she swung it open in one swift motion.

You braced yourself for the worst—maybe a burglar or someone who had stayed behind unannounced. But no amount of preparation could have prepared you for this. Stumbling into view, half-laughing and half-tripping over each other, were Alejandro, Adrien, Ronan, and—of all people—three of your closest friends: the hostess; Meghan, the waitress Marie and Reyna.

Your heart sank as the realization hit you like a freight train. The flushed faces, the muffled snickering, the way Alejandro immediately froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and Akira—it was all too clear. They’d heard everything. And judging by the heat rising to your face, they’d heard too much.

It dawned on you with mortifying clarity: you really hadn’t been keeping your voice down when you thought you were alone with Akira.