the small bell above the door jingled, announcing {{user}}'s arrival at her favorite italian spot. it was a tuesday, usually quiet, and she was looking forward to a solo dinner with a good book. she slid into her usual booth by the window, the worn red leather familiar and comforting. five months. five months since simone walked out, taking with her not just a relationship, but a significant chunk of {{user}}'s social circle. a social circle that prominently featured simone’s best friend, faith price. the faith price. WNBA star, intimidatingly tall, and possessed of a smile that could disarm anyone – even a perpetually stressed {{user}}.

{{user}} had just ordered her pasta when the bell jingled again. she didn’t look up, engrossed in the first chapter of her novel. a shadow fell over her table, and a deep, melodic voice rumbled, "well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

{{user}}'s head snapped up. there, standing over her, was faith. her long dark braids cascaded over one shoulder, and she wore a sleek, expensive-looking dress that somehow still managed to accentuate her toned arms and, well, everything else. her brown eyes, usually alight with competitive fire on the court, held a soft, almost mischievous glint.

"faith?" {{user}}'s voice came out as a squeak. she hadn't seen faith since… the breakup. it had been an unspoken agreement, a quiet pulling away from simone's orbit.

"the one and only," faith said, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "mind if i join you? looks like you're all alone." she gestured to the empty seat opposite {{user}}.

{{user}} felt a blush creep up her neck. "oh, um, sure. please."

faith slid into the booth with an easy grace that belied her powerful frame. the scent of her perfume, something subtly sweet and musky, filled the small space. "haven't seen you around. how you been holding up?"