Emily Davis and Jessica Riley weren’t just best friends—they were the best.
They were the prettiest, the meanest, the untouchable duo that walked through halls like they owned them—because, really, they fucking did.
But the thing about being on top? There wasn’t room for two.
And they both fucking knew it.
Still, it worked. Somehow.
Maybe because they were too similar, too perfectly opposite—yin and yang in designer skirts and platform heels, two sharpened knives, pretty and cruel, wrapped in silk and gloss.
Jessica, blonde temptation—soft and sugar-coated, her cruelty wrapped in flirtation, in breathy sighs and teasing smirks. A nightmare dressed as a dream.
Emily, sharp and lethal—pristine, sleek, her beauty edged with intellect, with precision. Where Jess flirted, Emily intimidated. Where Jess melted, Emily shattered.
It made them perfect together.
It also made them dangerous.
They sat together in Emily’s bedroom, a fortress of designer labels, sleek furniture, and cold, expensive perfection. Emily’s room was nothing like Jess’s—it wasn’t cluttered, wasn’t filled with scattered makeup and discarded skirts and a bed unmade from the night before. Emily’s world was orderly, curated, pristine.
"Ugh, I hate this color," Emily muttered, examining the deep burgundy polish on her nails. "It looked better in the bottle."
Jessica, sprawled across Emily’s Egyptian cotton sheets, popped a bubblegum bubble, her bare, slender legs kicked up lazily. "Then change it."
Emily shot her a look. "I already had it done this morning."
Jessica smirked. "And?"
Emily sighed, already reaching for her phone.
Jessica grinned, pleased. Emily was impossible to budge, but Jess had a way of pushing without pushing.
"It’s not that serious, Em. Just tell them to come back and fix it."
And of course, she did.
Emily had high standards, for everything, including herself. There wasn’t room for mistakes, for second-rate anything. Not in her world.
Jessica didn't understand, couldn't.
Because, really? Whilst Jess lived in the present, Emily lived for the future.
Emily sat back, tossing her phone aside. "Done."
Jessica smirked, rolling onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. "You’re so high-maintenance."
Emily arched a brow, flipping her sleek dark hair over one shoulder. "And you’re not?"
Jessica pouted, fake offense laced in every perfect, calculated movement. "I’m a delight."
Emily snorted. "You’re such a lying bitch."
Jessica giggled, slow and syrupy, batting her long, delicate lashes. "But you love me."
Emily sighed, dramatic, exaggerated, but her lips twitched, just slightly. "Obviously."
Jessica grinned, rolling onto her back again, her tiny top sliding up, exposing soft, untouched skin.
Emily’s gaze flickered.
Jess caught it. Of course, she did.
"Stop that," Emily muttered, tearing her eyes away.
Jessica blinked, all feigned innocence, soft and coy. "Stop what?"
Emily narrowed her eyes. "You know what."
Jessica smirked, stretching her arms above her head, arching her back slightly, just enough to be a menace.
Emily threw a cushion at her face.
Jessica shrieked, dissolving into laughter, pushing it away as she sat up, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders, catching the dim bedroom light like silk.
Emily watched her, just for a second too long.
Jessica noticed.
But she didn’t say anything.
Instead, she sighed, delicate, dramatic, letting her head tilt to the side, letting her pout form just right.
"I’m bored."
Emily rolled her eyes. "You’re always bored."
Jessica whined, reaching over, wrapping slender fingers around Emily’s wrist, squeezing just a little. "Let’s do something."
Emily sighed, glancing down at their hands.
Jess never played fair.
"Fine," Emily said, rolling her eyes again. "What do you want to do?"
Jessica’s lips curled, slow, pleased, dangerous.
"Let’s go ruin someone’s day."
Emily smirked.
"Finally," she said, standing. "Something fun."
They were lethal together.
Two pretty girls with sharp tongues and sharper smiles, walking through town like goddamn royalty, knowing every head turned, knowing every envious glance burned like a curse.
They thrived on it.
And no one could touch them.
Emily’s vanity was spotless, everything meticulously arranged—foundations in perfect rows, eyeshadow palettes stacked neatly, lipsticks lined up like soldiers ready for war.
Jessica perched herself on the plush stool, crossing long, bare legs, the soft fabric of her tiny sleep shorts barely covering her thighs.
Emily stood behind her, combing fingers through her sleek, dark hair, analyzing their reflection in the mirror. Jess, all pretty temptation—blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, hazel eyes staring back, pout soft, lethal. Emily, sharp-edged beauty—polished, pristine, her dark gaze keen, calculating.
"You're wearing that?" Emily arched a brow, eyes flicking over Jessica’s barely-there pink halter top and denim mini.
Jessica smirked, running delicate fingers along the edge of her own thigh. "What's wrong with it?"
Emily didn’t answer, just rolled her eyes, turning to grab her makeup brush.
Jessica watched her, amused. Emily had standards, but Jess? She had a presence.
Emily started with her foundation, her movements practiced, precise. Jess leaned in, blue eyes sharp, watching.
"You’re staring," Emily muttered.
"You’re pretty," Jessica mused. The words were syrupy, teasing, but there was truth laced in them.
Emily paused, just for a second, then scoffed, brushing warm bronzer along her cheekbones. "Obviously."
Jessica laughed, reaching for a lip liner. "What color are we doing?"
Emily studied her, then grabbed a soft pink gloss, uncapping it, twisting the bullet up.
Jessica’s lips parted, just slightly, just enough to be a menace.
Emily hesitated.
For half a second.
Then she leaned in, tilting Jessica’s chin up with two fingers, swiping the delicate color over her soft pretty lips, slow, steady.
Jessica stayed still, watching Emily’s face—the way her dark lashes lowered, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Your hands are cold," Jessica murmured.
Emily huffed, still painting her lips. "Shut up."
Jessica smiled—just as Emily finished—and smeared her lips together, slow, taunting.
Emily sighed, pulling away. "You're impossible."
Jessica grinned, licking the corner of her lip. "And yet, here we are."
Emily rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, too.
The two were half-dressed, mid-outfit selection, when Emily’s phone buzzed on the vanity.
Jessica glanced at the screen.
Mike.
Emily sighed, grabbing it, answering.
"Hey, babe."
Mike’s face filled the screen—all boyish charm and cocky smirks, his brown hair messier than usual, his eyes dark, tired.
"Yo," he greeted, his voice easy, casual—until his gaze shifted.
Jessica didn’t miss it.
The way his spine straightened, the slight hitch in his breath, the way his casual smirk sharpened into something else.
Neither did Emily.
Or maybe she just chose to ignore it.
Jessica, of course, didn’t.
She moved into frame, deliberate, slow, resting her chin on Emily’s shoulder, letting her lips part just slightly, just enough.
"Hey, Mikey," she purred.
Mike swallowed.
Emily exhaled sharply, but she didn’t shove Jess away.
Jessica smirked, watching as Mike’s gaze flickered, as his fingers flexed, as his breath went uneven for a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression.
He recovered quickly—of course he did. Mike Munroe was nothing if not smooth.
But Jessica saw through it.
And so did Emily.
Jessica tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What are you up to?"
Mike licked his lips, his grip tightening on the phone. "Not much."
Emily finally spoke, voice clipped. "You called me, remember?"
Mike blinked, snapping his attention back to his actual girlfriend. "Right. Yeah."
Jessica almost laughed.
He was so predictable.
Emily sighed, unimpressed, shifting her phone. "We’re getting ready. What do you want?"
Mike glanced at Jess again, just for a split second too long, before flashing Emily a grin.
"Just wanted to see my girl."
Jessica’s lips curled, slow, knowing.
Liar.
Eventually, Emily hung up.
Not abruptly—she wasn't stupid. But she was annoyed, her sharp, almond-shaped eyes narrowing as she tossed her phone onto the vanity.
Jessica watched her through the mirror, lips still painted an innocent shade of pink, one manicured finger dragging along her bottom lip, smudging the color just slightly. A mess on purpose.
Emily clocked it.
She exhaled, long and slow, before leaning back against the vanity, arms crossed. “You know, you’re a real bitch sometimes.”
Jessica smiled, full and saccharine. “You love it.”
Emily didn’t argue.
Jessica picked up a rich red lipstick and unscrewed the cap, her gaze flicking to Emily’s lips—stained, sinful, smirking.
Emily watched, dark eyes half-lidded, heavy-lashed, as Jessica uncapped the lipstick, twisting the bullet up, slow, the movement meticulous, unnecessarily sensual.
Emily parted her lips, just slightly, just enough.
Jessica’s smirk was the opposite of sweet. “Stay still.”
Emily did. Just to see what Jessica would do with it.
The first swipe was cool, slick—a contrast to the heat of Jessica’s gaze, the way her perfect brows furrowed in concentration, the way her lips pursed as she painted Emily’s lips in the scandalous shade of red, intimidating, and lethal.
Emily let her. Let her lean in close, let her cruel hazel eyes flicker between the plush shape of her lips and the slight parting of them.
Jessica's hand was steady, fingers tilting Emily’s chin, her thumb barely brushing against soft, flushed skin.
Jessica smirked. “You’re staring.”
Emily held Jessica's gaze. Didn’t even blink.
“Shut up.”
Jessica chuckled, breath warm against Emily’s cheek.
Emily’s smugfeatures faltered.
Jessica didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss the way Emily’s gaze flickered—not in irritation, but something else. Something unspoken, something too sharp to be ignored.
Jessica thrived in it.
She licked her lips—slow, taunting—just enough for her to catch Emily's gaze lower, before Emily could pull away.
Emily finally did, rolling her eyes, feigned exasperation written all over her face, but there was a tightness to her jaw, an extra sharpness to the way she brushed a stray dark strand away.
Jessica just laughed, capped the lipstick and threw it onto the vanity.
She reached for her mascara, unscrewing the cap, coating her lashes thick and dark, before shifting in her seat, legs crossing, body stretching just enough to be deliberate.
Emily busied herself with her own makeup, but Jessica could tell—she wasn’t unaffected.
Jessica leaned forward, propping her elbows on the vanity, watching Emily carefully line her lips.
A perfect cupid’s bow. Precise strokes. Emily was meticulous. Every move calculated.
Jessica liked ruining that.
“Mike’s always so stiff around me,” Jessica mused, voice low, deceptively soft.
Emily didn’t react, just pressed her lips together, blending the liner.
Jessica smirked. “That doesn’t bother you?”
Emily finally looked at her, dark eyes cool, unreadable. “Why? You planning on stealing him?”
Jessica licked her teeth, grinning. “Would it be that easy?”
Emily didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. “For you?” She capped the liner with a quiet snap. “Yeah.”
Jessica wasn’t expecting that.
She blinked.
Emily smirked. “Mike would trip over himself for a chance to fuck you.”
Jessica knew that, of course. But hearing Emily say it, so matter-of-factly, so unbothered—it was…interesting.
Emily wasn’t jealous.
She wasn’t threatened.
If anything, she sounded entertained.
Jessica tilted her head, curious.
"You're not mad about that?"
Emily laughed, reaching for her highlighter, brushing the champagne sheen along her cheekbones, the tops of her shoulders, the slope of her nose. “Mad about what? That my boyfriend gets hard at the sight of you?”
Jessica smirked. “So you have noticed.”
Emily shot her a flat look. “Please. Every guy in town with a functioning dick does the same.”
Jessica grinned, satisfied.
Emily set her brush down, meeting Jessica’s gaze head-on.
“Boys are easy, Jess,” she said, voice smooth, velvet over a blade. “They want you. They want me. They want anything pretty with a pulse.”
Jessica arched a brow. “And girls?”
Emily held her gaze.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t answer.
Jessica’s smirk deepened.
Interesting.