Sixteen
So why the hell did she say, “Well, I just was” when Rio yelled that she was coming to open the door?
And then she snorted.
Snorted.
Great. Real smooth.
But Rio laughed. She actually laughed. That soft little scoff of hers. Not cold. Not annoyed. Just amused.
So maybe it wasn’t a full disaster.
Maybe.
She watches Rio pull the sheet around herself and Agatha can already see where this is going to go. Alice is going to make a comment. No - multiple comments. Especially at Rio in a sheet.
Alice’s voice was too loud. It always was when she thought she was being clever.
And who would’ve guessed? Agatha was right.
Did I interrupt?
Agatha holds her breath - because Alice knows someone is in the room with Rio. And then she brought up the fucking waitress from last night.
Agatha feels pounding in her ears as she waits for Rio's response.
Something like that.
Rio didn’t say no.
She didn’t say yes either.
Which, to anyone else, might have passed as nothing. But not to Alice.
Agatha almost groaned aloud. Alice was going to hold onto that answer like a goddamn bulldog. Chew it. Drag it around. Wave it in the air until she finds out what Rio means.
Still. At least Alice didn’t think it was Agatha in the bed.
And maybe—just maybe—Alice would let it go.
She wouldn’t. Agatha knew her too well.
But Agatha can hope.
Then her stomach drops.
Just plummets at the sound of Alice’s voice saying she’s been looking for her.
Because—fuck.
She didn’t go back to her room last night. Didn’t even think about it after Jen gave her the key and left.
She stayed. All night. In Rio’s bed. So she didn’t answer her door when they were looking for her.
She grabs her phone off the nightstand and sure as shit - multiple missed calls and even more texts from the two of them.
But Rio—Rio—covered for her. Said nothing. Just played it cool with Alice standing right there. Wrapped in nothing but a damn sheet and still somehow keeping her cool.
So maybe it’ll be okay.
It has to be.
She exhales, long and shaky. And just as she starts to gather herself again, she hears Rio’s footsteps returning from the door.
And then it hits her.
The vibrator.
Still between her thighs. Still pressed there like some kind of threat or reminder or fucking branding iron. Her whole body jolts a little. She doesn’t move when Rio returns to view.
But Rio isn’t looking there.
She’s smiling.
Shy. Almost like she’s nervous, which is ridiculous because look at her. Hair messy. Sheet falling a little too low on one side. Still flushed and glowing and looking so fucking wrecked—and Agatha did that.
She did that.
She wants to take a picture with her brain and keep it forever.
And then Rio’s moving toward the bed, slow. Not hesitant. Just easy. She sits on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side. One knee bending in toward Agatha like it’s instinct.
Agatha doesn’t breathe.
Then Rio leans down and kisses her.
Soft. Way too soft for what they just did, but it still makes her chest ache. Like there’s too much in it. Like the softness is more dangerous than everything before.
Her hand finds Agatha’s hair, fingers tangling gently near the side of her head.
And then she pulls back. Just a little. Just enough to look at her again.
Smiles.
That fucking smile again.
Shy. Like she doesn’t know how much power she has. Like she didn’t already leave Agatha shaking in bed when she went to answer the door.
Agatha swears under her breath and closes her eyes for a second.
She wants to pull her back down. Wants to climb on top of her and make her stay. Wants to forget facials and the itinerary and the broken fucking clock.
To be honest, Agatha’s not mad about the clock.
Not even a little bit.
She’d miss breakfast every single day if it meant she got that again.
She opens her eyes.
Rio’s still watching her.
That smile, soft and unassuming, like she’s still trying to figure Agatha out.
And fuck—Agatha’s smitten. Smitten like it’s a goddamn disease.
The kiss? Didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect it to be so damn good. So tender and real when she was already wrecked. She wants to push it back, to feel it again, but she can’t think straight.
She trails her fingers up Rio’s arm, just enough to feel the muscles beneath. She feels Rio shiver, the sheet dropping just a little lower, and Agatha’s mind races. She loves this. Loves the way Rio reacts. She can’t get enough of it.
She wants to see her shiver more. Wants to make her fall apart again.
But they have 45 minutes to be down in the lobby ready for facials.
She blinks, soft. Sweet. Letting her eyelashes brush her cheek in that teasing way she knows works. “Why don’t we shower together?” Her voice comes out soft, but scratchy - almost hurting her throat.
Rio’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead, and then she lets out a small laugh—like she doesn’t believe it. “You can really go again?”
Fuck.
And Agatha freezes for just a moment. Her stomach flips. She didn’t want that. No.
She wants to touch Rio. She wants more time, just a few more minutes of this.
“I was thinking more like some aftercare showering,” Agatha says, trying to sound casual, but her voice catches at the end.
And then she regrets it. The words feel too soft, too intimate. Something she shouldn’t have said. It was too much.
She watches Rio carefully, waiting for the mask to fall, for that unreadable expression to break. And maybe it’s too much for her.
Then, after a beat—just one long breath—Rio smiles.
“As you wish.” Rio’s voice is steady, but full of tenderness.
Agatha’s heart flutters. Like she just got punched in the chest.
Rio gets up from the edge of the bed, the movement fluid, purposeful. She glances at Agatha before reaching down, her fingers curling around the vibrator, pulling it slowly to the side of the bed, leaving it there somewhere, out of sight. Not out of mind.
Her hand stretches out to Agatha, an invitation that feels more intimate than anything they’ve shared yet. Agatha looks at it for a moment, then places her own in Rio’s, feeling the softness of her touch, the care in it.
When she stands, her knees almost buckle under her, the sudden reminder of everything they just did hitting her like a jolt of electricity. She steadies herself, trying to ignore the flood of warmth and tension that rushes back to her all at once. But Rio’s there, holding her steady, her arm wrapping around Agatha’s waist, guiding her like it’s second nature.
Rio doesn’t let go. She leads Agatha through the room, toward the bathroom. The soft click of the bathroom door feels like a moment of peace in the chaos of their night, like they can finally breathe again.
Rio grabs one of the thick towels from the rack, folding it before setting it down on the toilet seat with a gentle press. “So it’s not so cold,” Rio says, her voice low, thoughtful. The words are simple, but they mean more than they should.
Agatha sits down carefully, feeling the softness of the towel beneath her, and the way Rio’s gaze lingers on her with that tenderness that feels too good, too right. The moment stretches between them—quiet, almost sacred.
It’s Rio taking care of her. It’s Rio, showing her something she never expected: softness. The softness that was always there, just hidden beneath layers of quick wit and guarded expressions. And in this moment, Agatha can’t help but feel… cared for.
Agatha tilts her head slightly, meeting Rio’s gaze, searching for something. She’s not sure what yet.
But Rio’s gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t leave her. Instead, it stays there, steady, watching Agatha as if she’s something worth watching.
“Thanks,” Agatha whispers, the words barely there, but Rio catches them.
Rio simply smiles. “Of course,” she says, and the tenderness in her tone makes Agatha’s heart trip over itself again.
What the fuck is Rio doing to her?
Rio breaks eye contact first. It’s subtle, like she doesn’t want to—but she does. She turns, crossing to the massive shower, and Agatha lets herself follow every movement. The way Rio’s back shifts as she leans forward. The way her hair—messy from sex, wild and untamed—falls across her shoulders.
The spa bathroom is even more stunning now, bathed in soft morning light. The shower is ridiculous—walls of glass, multiple jets, polished tile that gleams. A rainfall head sits high above, already misting steam across the room. It’s the kind of shower rich people probably brag about. Big enough that she and Rio could fit in it six times over and still not touch.
Agatha watches Rio test the water, her fingers dipping in, adjusting the temperature with focus like she’s making it just right for her. And then Rio’s turning back, hand out again, waiting.
Agatha doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for it and lets herself be pulled gently to her feet. She’s still a little shaky, but not like before. The tremble is less about her legs now and more about what it means—this. Being guided. Being cared for.
She’s led slowly into the shower, and it’s all soft—her steps, Rio’s touch, the warmth from the steam. None of it was what she expected when she asked to shower together.
But it’s exactly what she wanted.
Like Rio knew exactly what to do for her.
The heat wraps around her as soon as she steps inside, water running down her body. She closes her eyes for a second. Lets it sink into her. And then she hears it—Rio’s voice.
Low, that same goddamn tone from earlier. “Good?”
Agatha opens her eyes and turns slightly, peering through the fogging glass at her. “Very,” she answers.
Rio beams. Actually beams. “Okay, I’ll be right back. I packed my own soap. Did you? I’ll grab it for you.”
Agatha nods, still a little stunned by how sweet she’s being. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Thank you.”
Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, and she smiles without meaning to. Soft. Sweet. Shy. She’s not used to feeling that way, but Rio draws it out of her without even trying.
“I’ll be right back,” Rio repeats, voice playful this time.
And she is. Like thirty seconds later. Agatha doesn’t even hear her come back in—not over the rush of the water above her. But she feels it.
Featherlight fingers on one shoulder. Lips brushing the other. It makes her grin. She starts to turn around, ready to pull Rio in against her, but she doesn’t make it far before she hears her voice again.
“I thought you wanted me to take care of you.”
It stops her. Rio’s tone is soft. Intentional.
Agatha did. Still does. She wants Rio’s body against hers, yes, but more than that, she wants this.
Before she can say anything, Rio moves closer, and her hands are in Agatha’s hair. Fingers threading through, gentle but firm. Massaging at her scalp like it’s a ritual.
Agatha’s eyes flutter closed. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to.
She lets Rio scrub at her hair. Really lets her. Tilts her head just enough to give her access, lets her fingers sink into the mess of curls and tangles and tension. And it’s..
Fuck it’s intimate.
More intimate than anything she thought she’d get from Rio. More than anything she’s had in years. Even with Wanda.
Especially with Wanda.
But it’s also so simple. So quiet. So fucking perfect.
Rio’s not just going through the motions—she knows exactly what she’s doing. Exactly how to tame the stubborn, impossible mane that Agatha’s fought with her whole life. Like she’s done this before. Like she wants to do this. Like it means something to her, too.
And Agatha can’t help it. She melts under the touch. Relaxes into it fully.
Then Rio massages the conditioner into the ends of her hair, slow and gentle, and she shifts Agatha’s body to face her. Her hands don’t leave her. She just rotates her by the hips, keeping her close the whole time.
Agatha’s eyes flutter open.
And Rio is looking at her. Really looking. Her gaze starts at her body, like she can’t help it, but when Agatha meets her eyes, Rio’s jump up immediately. And there it is again—that shy smile. Like she’s been caught.
Agatha’s hooked on it. Addicted to the way Rio looks at her like this. Like she wants her.
Rio’s hands are warm on her sides. Holding her there. Not gripping. Not teasing. Just holding.
Agatha can’t take it anymore.
She lets her hands wander up Rio’s body, slow, soaking in every inch of skin she can feel until she’s looping them around her neck. She pulls her in, can’t stop herself, and presses their mouths together.
Rio gasps against her lips.
Good.
Agatha kisses her harder, tugging her forward into the shower stream until water pours over both of them. Her own back is now out of the spray, but she doesn’t care. They’re pressed together nearly everywhere.
Rio’s kissing her back. Desperate now. Letting out the softest, most ruined noises against her mouth, and it’s enough to make Agatha’s whole body light up again. She’s suddenly aware of how fast her own breath is coming, how ragged it sounds in the humid air.
She should slow down.
They have facials.
But not yet.
Not when Rio tastes like this.
To Agatha’s surprise (yes- okay, Agatha is surprised at almost every move Rio makes) Rio pulls back.
Agatha blinks, lips still parted, heart still pounding. The warmth of Rio’s body still pressed close, the water still running over both of them—but Rio’s mouth is gone. Her eyes are shut. And her head is tilted back like she’s trying to get herself under control.
Agatha doesn’t say anything.
She waits.
Because Rio’s been patient with her. Careful. Gentle when Agatha didn’t even realize she needed gentleness. So she lets her have the moment.
Then Rio’s eyes open again. Her head drops forward, and she takes in a long, steadying breath.
“As much as I’d love for that to keep going,” Rio says, voice low, hoarse from everything they just did, “we have a facial. And we need to leave at different times to meet in the lobby.”
Fuck. She’s right.
Agatha exhales, slow, but it doesn’t stop the way her lips pull into a pout. She knows she’s being ridiculous about it but still.
To her count, Rio’s up four this morning. And she’s only up one. That’s a math problem she doesn’t like the answer to.
She wants to give Rio more.
But then—another surprise.
“If you really want,” Rio adds, softer now, almost like she’s afraid to say it, “you can return the favor later. We don’t have to talk about it right now. I’m not trying to ruin the moment. But if you want to do it again… even when we’re back in Westview…” Her voice lowers even more. “I’d like to, too.”
Agatha freezes.
Her mouth falls open, a breath catching in her throat.
What?
She hadn’t expected that. Not at all. Of course she wanted to do it again. But she figured Rio was the type for one night only.
But once again, Agatha was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Because Rio’s looking at her like it meant something. She’s been nothing but soft and tender and understanding since last night.
And she wants more?
Agatha realizes she probably looks like a gaping fish. Her mouth is still open. No thoughts in her brain, just the stunned fluttering of her pulse.
But eventually, she finds it—she reels it in, closes her mouth, and lets it pull into a smile.
Soft. A little shy. One that mirrors the one she saw on Rio earlier.
“Yeah,” she says, voice quiet. “That… that sounds good.”
And Rio beams at her. Not smug, not cocky—sweet. Sweet in a way that makes Agatha’s chest ache.
“Your turn then,” Agatha says quietly.
Agatha doesn’t want to break the moment—
God, she doesn’t—but they have a facial. With Jen. And Alice.
And fuck.
She still hasn’t texted them back.
What is wrong with her?
She pushes the thought down. Buries it under the steam and the sound of water hitting tile and the way Rio makes this tiny little noise when Agatha starts washing her hair. Agatha’s addicted to it. That sound. She wants to memorize it, catalog every pitch and hum Rio makes.
Then Rio turns, reaching behind her somewhere, grabbing a washcloth.
Her voice is soft when she asks, “Can I wash you?”
And yes. Yes. Even if it kills Agatha, she wants Rio’s hands on her again. Wants that softness. That care. That ridiculous, perfect tenderness that’s been unraveling her since last night.
So she nods. A breathy, “Yes.”
Rio doesn’t rush. She starts at Agatha’s shoulders, the cloth warm and slow as it drags over her skin. Every stroke is deliberate, like she wants to get it right. Agatha watches the motion of her hand—how careful it is. How reverent.
She can’t believe this is happening. That Rio is the one doing this. That it’s this gentle, this grounding.
Then she feels a nudge at her knee. Rio taps her leg lightly with her own, not even needing to say anything.
Agatha parts her legs.
Her heart skips.
And Rio’s hand moves lower.
The first stroke is featherlight. Almost not there. But Agatha feels it. All of it. Because she’s still sensitive. Still raw from earlier. From everything.
Rio is soft. Devastatingly soft. Her touch is slow, careful, focused—never rushing, never teasing. Just… there.
Then pressure. Just the right amount. Her cloth-covered fingers press against Agatha’s clit, a deliberate, slow circle that has Agatha gasping.
Her hands scramble for something—anything—to hold onto. They land on Rio’s shoulder. Gripping hard.
Her knees nearly buckle again, the heat rushing through her so fast, it makes her lightheaded.
She collapses forward, her forehead landing against Rio’s bare shoulder.
Fuck.
It feels too good. Too overwhelming. She feels it all the way up her spine, up into her throat. Her lips part, breath catching, but there’s no sound—just the deep throb of want pulsing through her with every stroke of Rio’s hand.
How the fuck does a washcloth do it for her?
“The facial—”
The words barely leave Agatha’s mouth before she gasps, her breath hitching as Rio’s pace picks up.
Agatha would like to repeat this: How the hell does a washcloth feel this good?
“We have to—we have to leave soon,” she tries, but the protest dies on her tongue the second Rio presses her back against the shower wall.
The cold tile hits her spine and she gasps again. It’s sharp. Perfect. Addicting.
Her legs tremble, and she has to brace her palms flat against the slick tile behind her to stay upright.
“What happened to - fuck - what happened to leaving at different times?” Agatha’s gasping.
Rio’s thigh slips between her legs and she’s grinding up into her just a little bit. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
Agatha’s head hits the tile wall with a a thud. And fuck that hurts.
And then she’s processing what Rio says.
“Fuck - really? What about the spa thing?”
“Do you want me to stop?” Rio asks, maddeningly calm.
And Agatha, panting, unraveling, desperate says, “Fuck—yes.”
So Rio stops.
Of course she stops.
But the second her fingers still, Agatha’s hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist, nails digging in just enough to hold her there. “No, no. Keep going.”
Rio chuckles low against her, the sound vibrating through Agatha’s whole body. “What is it, Agatha? Tell me.”
And of course Rio’s making her talk again.
Agatha’s head drops back against the tile. She closes her eyes, lips parted. She breathes.
Fine.
Fine.
“Make me come, Rio.”
And God, the effect those words have because Rio doesn’t hesitate. Her hand moves again, faster now. Firmer. The pressure is just right. Over and over and over again.
Agatha’s twitching, moaning, her thighs shaking like they’re about to give out. She’s gripping onto Rio’s shoulder again with one hand, the other sliding against the wall, desperate for stability.
She knows she’s being loud—knows her gasps and curses are echoing off the walls of this massive spa bathroom—but she doesn’t care. Not even a little.
It’s so fucking good.
And Rio’s watching her. She knows she is. Just watching her fall apart.
Rio says, “Come for me,” then leans down and bites and sucks at her neck.
Agatha does—with a gasp and a yell of her name.
It’s not super intense or long - but it's so good.
And then Rio pulls back, just slightly. Agatha can’t open her eyes yet, can barely remember how to breathe, but she feels the washcloth again—the one Rio just fucked her with. It’s moving up and down her skin, slow, steady. She’s pretty sure Rio rinsed it first. She’s almost certain. Not that it matters. The touch is so soft, so deliberate, she wouldn’t care if it was dipped in fire.
The cloth runs down her calf, a final swipe over her ankle, and then Rio backs away. When Agatha finally opens her eyes, Rio’s kneeling in front of her beneath the spray of the shower, eyes dark and locked on hers.
It’s breathtaking.
Then Rio grins up at her, stands up and pulls her into a kiss. Agatha melts into it without thinking.
“I’m gonna scrub really fast, and then we need to go,” Rio murmurs.
Oh. Right.
Right.
Agatha nods, a little dazed, and pulls her up by the hand. They switch places, Rio stepping under the water now. Agatha leans back into the spray, tipping her head so the water cascades down her face. She’s trying to focus. Really. But then—
“Fuck, Agatha, you’re so beautiful.”
“Yeah?” It comes out shy and quiet. Because that’s all Agatha can come up with because Rio just keeps fucking surprising her.
Rio’s hands grip at her waist and turn Agatha towards her. Agatha wipes at her eyes and opens them to meet brown looking back at her.
“It’s driving me fucking crazy, Agatha. You’re so fucking beautiful. I can’t even wash your body completely before I need to touch you again.”
Agatha can tell Rio’s telling the truth. She’s not sure how she can tell, she just does. Agatha never takes compliments well so instead of responding, she pulls Rio into another kiss.
Rio bites her lower lip and a fucking giggle leaves Agatha’s lips.
What the fuck is Rio doing to her?
Has Agatha asked that already?
Whatever.
Before she knows it, they’re out of the shower and rushing to get ready. Agatha stands in front of the mirror, towel wrapped tight, staring at the mark blooming dark on her neck.
She already yelled at Rio for it. Kind of. Not really. More of a “Seriously?” while grabbing for concealer.
She layers makeup over it, prays she can sit on the opposite side of Alice and Jen during the facial. She’ll make it happen. She has to.
Rio just shrugs, towel around her waist. “Didn’t mean to.”
They come up with a quick plan. Agatha will come in from the opposite end of the hotel technically where her real room is. She nearly forgets her key card until Rio tosses it to her.
She’s not grabbing the rest of her stuff. She’s not going back to that room. Not really.
Agatha grabs her phone and texts Alice and Jen:
Agatha
sorry went on a walk, left my phone! be right there.
It’s 10:54 when she makes it to the other side of the lobby.
Rio and Jen and Alice are already there, leaning against the wall near the spa check-in, robes slung over their arms.
“So both of you skipped breakfast, huh?” Alice asks, arching a brow.
Of course Alice would say something. Immediately.
Agatha recovers fast. She has to. “Sorry, Billy called early this morning and then Wanda got on the phone with me and just… put me in a shit mood. I walked it off. I didn’t mean to miss breakfast. I’m sorry.”
Jen’s already shaking her head, all concern and warmth. “Of course not, babe! We were just worried. Want to talk about it?”
God, no.
She’s not going to dig herself into a deeper hole with a lie.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t wanna ruin our time together!” A little too enthusiastic. A little too much. Rio’s eyes catch hers, and they glint.
Then Alice turns, sharp as ever. “And Rio, pray tell, why were you not at breakfast?”
That bitch.
Agatha’s smile almost drops.
Almost.
What the hell is Rio going to say?
Rio just shrugs, that smirk curling onto her lips like it lives there. She snaps her gum. When the fuck did Rio get gum?
“Wouldn’t you like to know, gorgeous?”
The gum shifts between her teeth and Agatha watches it, way too closely. Jesus. Is she still this fucking horny?
Yes. Apparently yes. Because every little thing Rio does is hot.
Every. Little. Thing.
Hot.
Alice doesn’t blink. “Well we both know when I knocked on your door, you had someone in there with you.”
And Agatha nearly chokes on air.
She should’ve known Alice would go straight for the kill.
It’s annoying.
It’s so her.
If Agatha wasn’t worried about Jen and Alice figuring it out - she’d be amused at Alice’s insistence.
Rio snaps her gum in response.
“Please Riooo, just tell us, was it the waitress?” Alice is nearly whining.
“And I already told you. It was something like that,” Rio says, unbothered, like she’s commenting on the weather.
Before Alice or Jen can fire off a single follow-up, Agatha cuts in.
“Let’s go get our facials!”
She’s already walking into the spa room, fast. Not quite a jog. But close.
Cowardly? Maybe. But she doesn’t want that conversation to keep going.
The spa room is quiet and clean and dim. The kind of place that should make her relax. Instead, Agatha is calculating seating like it’s a goddamn battle strategy.
She clocks the layout: four tables lined up in a row. She picks the one on the farthest end—because when she lays down her hickey will be towards the wall.
She lies down, careful with the angle of her head, chin tilted slightly to keep the mark Rio left out of view. The hickey that she’s still low-key furious about. Even if she did scream Rio’s name at the time.
Jen takes the table beside her. Then Alice. And finally, Rio settles in on the opposite end.
Perfect. Bullet dodged.
Until Alice pipes up. “Actually… can we switch?” She’s already halfway upright, gesturing to Agatha. “I like being away from the door. It’s an intruder thing. I saw something on the news.”
Agatha stares at her.
That’s a bullshit excuse. Alice doesn’t even lock her front door half the time. But her tone is light and breezy, like it’s just a weird preference, not a strategic fucking move.
And Alice doesn’t know anything. Right?
Well, she knows Agatha’s into Rio. Maybe that’s why. Trying to push them closer together.
She’s not overthinking this anymore.
Agatha sighs. “Fine.”
They switch. Which now puts her directly next to Rio. Of course. And Jen.
Agatha lies back down, skin prickling with nerves. The hickey is still on her neck, and now she’s beside Jen, the most observant human being alive. If anyone’s going to notice a slip in concealer, it’s her.
She keeps her face forward. She lets the aesthetician start the facial. Soft music plays. Oil brushes against her skin. And thank god, Jen doesn’t say a word.
Not even a subtle hum.
Rio, for her part, is surprisingly silent. Not a single quip. No gum. No snark. Just… quiet. Every once in a while, Agatha risks a glance sideways. And Rio’s already looking.
Soft smile. Almost shy.
Just for Agatha.
She could melt.
They finish and head to lunch—again in the hotel restaurant. Familiar white tablecloths, the same seats, same clink of silverware. Agatha doesn’t think much of it until she appears.
The waitress from last night.
Does the woman ever leave?
Agatha practically feels the mark on her neck pulse. But she slides into the seat beside Rio before the panic settles in too hard, pulling her hair over her neck.
Jen didn’t mention it during the facial. Which means she didn’t see it. She would’ve said something. Jen always does.
They start ordering drinks, and—of course—the waitress zeroes in on Rio like she’s a dessert special.
But then she says it.
“Where did you disappear to last night? I was hoping to grab your number.”
Agatha freezes.
It’s innocent. Really. But her eyes snap to the waitress’s face like a reflex.
And then worse—Alice.
Alice’s grin is a goddamn weapon. Smug. Knowing. She had asked this morning if Rio had someone in her room. She’d joked that it was the waitress.
And Rio hadn’t said no.
Something like that.
Which, to Alice, was as good as confirmation.
Which means Alice is going to jump to every single conclusion until she gets her answer.
Agatha watches Alice’s eyes flick between Agatha and Rio like she’s watching a slow-burn TV drama finally heat up. Agatha leans on her elbow, resting her chin in her hand like she’s totally chill. Like her stomach isn’t trying to launch itself into orbit.
Alice is watching her. So is the waitress. And Jen is right there.
Agatha takes a slow sip of water.
“Just vanished on me,” the waitress adds, still smiling at Rio.
Rio doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t flirt. She just shrugs. “Long day.”
And Agatha feels the smallest brush of fingers against her knee—under the table, out of sight.
She doesn’t look over.
But her heart spikes anyway.
Rio’s not even entertaining her.
That makes Agatha want to smile and pull her into a kiss and fuck her on the table.
She won’t. Probably.
Agatha’s pulled from her thoughts as Jen excuses herself, her phone buzzing sharply. “Ralph, I’ll take the Kale salad,” she says, already standing. “Be right back, girls.”
Rio snickers under her breath. “Kale salad. You know cannibalism isn’t just frowned upon, it’s illegal.”
Jen shoos her off with a roll of her eyes. “Shut up Rio.”
All of them laugh lightly at the joke.
And Jen’s not even getting wound up by Rio’s teasing.
What a turn of events.
Agatha watches Jen as she walks away, eyes glued to her every step. The moment Jen disappears from sight, Agatha slowly turns her head, and that’s when she feels it—Alice’s eyes on her, gleaming, burning with something that’s more than curiosity.
Rio’s not looking at either of them, keeping her gaze fixed anywhere but on them. But Agatha can still feel Rio’s fingers brushing against her knee, soft, tentative, as if she’s testing the waters.
She turns to Alice, leaning in slightly, her voice low and sharp. “Spit it out, Alice.”
Alice’s fake surprise is almost sickeningly sweet. “Moi? Oh, it’s nothing. I just think it’s interesting that both of you missed breakfast this morning, and when I was talking with Rio earlier this morning, at her room—well, she was definitely in the middle of something - or maybe someone. Hmm. Makes you think.”
Agatha’s heart lurches. She turns to Rio, just a quick glance, but it’s enough. A flash of discomfort crosses her face—hurt? Agatha can’t tell. And she can’t bear it. Not after everything that happened this morning.
Alice really shouldn’t know. If she does, everything could spiral out of control in the worst way. It could fuck everything up.
But Rio’s silent, allowing Agatha to decide where this goes. Rio’s fingers are still on her knee, but they’ve stopped moving. Waiting.
Agatha swallows, her chest tight. She knows the right thing would be to deflect. But she can’t. Not this time.
She leans forward, her voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up her spine. “Fine. Yes, we slept together. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
She sees Rio’s face jerk upward, wide-eyed, shocked. The fingers on her knee tighten into a grip, but Rio stays silent. Agatha doesn’t pull away. She holds the gaze—feels her heart pounding in her chest. Rio doesn’t say a word.
Alice beams, her grin widening like she’s just won a prize. “Wow, I didn’t think it’d be that easy to pull that out of you.”
Agatha doesn’t respond. The air around them feels heavy now, tight with unspoken things. She knows what this means. She knows what it could do. If Jen finds out… If Alice runs her mouth…
The thought of Jen’s face when she finds out burns in Agatha’s gut.
But Alice—Alice is fucking relentless. “Look, I won’t tell Jen or anyone for that matter. But—” She leans in, her voice suddenly dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “Did you use protection? Because I’m sure Rio’s dick—”
And before she can finish, Agatha’s napkin is in her hand, flying across the table, landing with a small poof against Alice’s face.
Alice laughs, her voice loud and unabashed, clearly not bothered in the slightest by the napkin Agatha threw at her. Agatha’s gaze hardens, but she doesn’t say anything, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. Jen’s voice interrupts the tension as she walks back toward the table, phone still pressed to her ear.
“…Ralph and the wedding details, of course,” Jen’s voice is a steady background hum that Agatha tries to tune out. She doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help it. Not when Rio’s fingers slide further up her knee again, warm, deliberate. Agatha’s pulse quickens, and she can’t focus on Jen anymore. It’s all too much.
Rio smirks at them both, continuing the conversation as if everything is normal, as if she’s not torturing Agatha with every soft, calculated touch. Every time Rio’s fingers shift, Agatha can feel her breathing catch. The smirk is all teasing now, but there’s a quiet intensity behind Rio’s eyes, and Agatha’s heart is hammering.
The rest of lunch is a blur. They depart around 1, and it’s time to head back to the hotel, pack up, and clear out of the rooms by 2. Agatha watches Jen and Alice leave the restaurant, but she lingers, telling them she needed to use the restroom. Once they’re out of sight, her feet take her slowly around the corner of the lobby, but she’s not going to the bathroom.
She’s waiting.
She can feel the tension in the air before she even turns the corner. And then it happens.
Rio is there. The moment Agatha rounds the corner, Rio’s hand is around her wrist, yanking her effortlessly against the wall. Agatha gasps, her body pinned between the cool marble and the heat of Rio’s body. Before she can speak, a kiss is crashing against her lips, demanding, hungry, like Rio can’t hold back any longer.
“What was that, huh?” Rio’s voice is rough against her lips as she pulls back just slightly, eyes flicking down to Agatha’s mouth before looking into her eyes with a smirk. “What happened to ‘it’s a secret?’”
Agatha moans against Rio’s lips, her breath catching. She’s very aware of how public this is—how anyone could walk by, could see them—but she doesn’t care. Not now. Not when Rio’s hands are sliding against her skin with such ease, making her lose herself.
“I just—” Agatha looks down, her fingers absently playing with the necklace around Rio’s throat, not even realizing the gesture. “You looked uncomfortable hiding,” she admits quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m serious, Rio—Jen cannot know. But Alice won’t tell her, and maybe it’s a good thing, right? Alice is still hooked on her plan to dismantle the wedding. She’s been texting me about it since dinner last night. Not that I’ve responded to any of those texts yet.” Agatha walks fingers up Rio’s chest. S
Rio’s eyes never leave hers. Soft, attentive, like Agatha’s saying something important—something precious. It makes her heart flutter in a way she can’t quite explain.
“Okay, Agatha,” Rio says, her voice gentle but firm. It’s the only answer she gives before she pulls away, taking a step back and leading Agatha back toward their room.
“Okay?”
Rio turns back and smirks, “As you wish.”
Agatha follows, heart still racing, the kiss still burning in her chest. Halfway through the hallway, Rio reaches back and grabs her hand, and Agatha loops her other arm around, pulling herself closer. They walk like that, hand-in-hand, bodies brushing.
If Agatha saw another couple like this—touching, practically clinging to one another like lovesick fools—she’d roll her eyes, gag at the sheer sweetness of it all. But right now, in this moment, she doesn’t care.
She’s with Rio. And Rio’s smiling at her, that small, knowing smile that makes Agatha want to forget everything else.
They’re going to keep doing this. Whatever this is.
At least until Rio leaves.
Fuck.