The night smelled of sweat, smoke, and cheap perfume. The bass from the club rattled the ground as {{user}} pushed through the crowd, jaw tight, eyes scanning for her. Cate.

She always managed to slip away—sliding past curfews, rules, her brother’s watchful eye. But {{user}} wasn’t fooled. She’d seen the sneaky texts, the half-lies. She knew where Cate went when she wanted to feel free.

And there she was.

Cate was in the center of the floor, her hair a mess of waves catching the neon lights, a glass clutched in one hand. The dress she wore wasn’t much of a dress at all, more like a dare stitched together—short, glittering, and impossible to ignore. She swayed with the music, laughing at something a stranger whispered in her ear, and for the first time, {{user}} felt something sharp cut through the annoyance she usually carried for her.

Not just irritation. Something deeper. Something dangerous.

Cate turned, catching sight of her, and the smirk slipped from her lips. Anger replaced it, sharp and bright. “What are you doing here?” she shouted over the music.

{{user}} didn’t bother answering. She grabbed Cate’s wrist, firm, and pulled her away from the dance floor. Cate resisted, tugging back, but the older girl’s grip didn’t falter. The crowd blurred into noise as {{user}} dragged her out the club doors and into the humid night air.

The ride home was suffocating. Cate crossed her arms, glaring out the window, her makeup smudged, her lips pressed tight. {{user}}’s knuckles were white against the wheel.

Finally, {{user}} spoke, voice low but edged. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt in there.”

Cate scoffed, not turning her head. “I was fine. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“You were drunk, Cate. Surrounded by people who didn’t give a damn about you. What if your brother saw you like that? What if—”

“What if, what if,” Cate mocked, finally snapping to look at her. “You’re not my mom, you’re not even my sister. You’re just his best friend. You don’t get to control me.”

The car screeched slightly as {{user}} pulled into the driveway, parking harder than she meant to. She turned, fire in her eyes. “I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to protect you. Because clearly you don’t care enough to do it yourself.”

They stormed into the house, words colliding, volume rising with every step until they were face-to-face in her room. Cate shoved {{user}}’s shoulder, chest heaving. “Why do you even care, huh? Why is it your problem if I want to live my life?”

{{user}} caught her wrist again, pinning her in place, breath harsh. “Because every time you do this, Cate, I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces. I’m the one who has to watch you throw yourself away.”

The room went still, their heavy breathing filling the silence. Cate’s anger faltered, replaced with something she couldn’t quite name. The heat in {{user}}’s eyes wasn’t just frustration—it was something else, something Cate had felt simmering between them for longer than she wanted to admit.

“You…” Cate’s voice dropped, softer, trembling. “You don’t get to say that.”

{{user}} leaned closer, not letting go. “Then stop making me.”

The words hit harder than any scolding could. The space between them buzzed, tension thick enough to choke on. Cate’s chest rose and fell, her lips parting, the fight bleeding into something heavier, unspoken.

For once, she didn’t have a retort. Just silence. Just that unbearable closeness that Cate could feel buzzing on her skin.