Chapter 3
Agatha doesn’t know exactly what love is, but she sure as hell knows what it’s not.
It’s not a sin waiting for absolution, no matter how much incense they drown it in. It’s not something you confess through a screen, whispering like it’s a crime against heaven. And no, it’s not something to be exorcised. No amount of holy water or Latin chanting is going to make it disappear. Trust Agatha. Her mother tried.
It’s not a withered rose flattened between the pages of Leviticus, and never let grow. It’s not some divine miracle reserved for the deserving, because you don’t need to walk on water or turn it into wine to be worthy of love. But if you could, you’d definitely get invited to better parties.
Most importantly, love isn’t something you should be punished for. If it lands you in hell, at least the company will be way better. Because real love doesn’t come with an unless .
Unless it’s Rio. Unless Agatha gives in to whatever this feeling is and makes a spectacular mess of it. Unless she does something so catastrophically stupid that she loses more than just a damn dollar this time.
Love isn’t supposed to twist your stomach or keep you up at night, drowning in “what ifs.” But now, it keeps on pouring. And that’s what terrifies Agatha the most.
Which is exactly why she bailed on whatever mind-numbing lecture was droning on at the hotel and set off on some random trip, grey skies be damned. Anything was better than sitting through another hour of slideshows and monotone speakers.
She practically tiptoed out of her room, like Rio (still probably dead to the world and nursing what had to be a brutal hangover) might somehow sense her escaping from across the hall. The woman had been absolutely wrecked last night. No way she was waking up before noon.
And Agatha needed at least a day. A Rio-free day.
One deep breath before she completely lost her fucking mind.
She hopped into a cab and sat through a 25-minute ride to Kerry Park, watching the streets through the window, looking as if they were waiting for rain. The driver didn’t bother with small talk, maybe he picked up on her mood, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in entertaining yet another broody passenger. Either way, she appreciated it.
When she finally got there, the park was almost too quiet. The famous postcard-perfect Seattle skyline spread out in front of her, but half-drowned in clouds.
She plopped onto a bench, stretched her legs out, and took a deep breath. Around her, life kept moving. Joggers ran by, probably listening to murder podcasts. A couple by the railing struggled to get the perfect Instagram shot, the woman pretending she wasn’t miserable. A golden retriever zoomed across the grass, living its best life – something Agatha could only envy.
And yet, even with all this peace, even after putting actual distance between herself and the hotel, her mind wouldn’t shut up. Because of course, she was still thinking about Rio. Because of course, one dumb night of playing babysitter looped in her head like that one Friends episode everyone has seen a thousand times but still watches anyway.
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, exhaling hard. She came here to clear her head, to breathe, to get away. So why did it still feel like she was suffocating?
She sat there, completely unaware of the time, just staring at the skyline, lost in her own head. When she finally checked her phone, she blinked at the screen. Five whole hours. Just sitting there, mindlessly eating hotel snacks like some lovesick idiot in a movie montage.
And because the universe just had to be dramatic, the gray clouds chose that exact moment to split open, dumping rain. The perfect finishing touch to Agatha’s sad little montage.
Joggers scattered, couples squealed and made a break for cover, and even the golden retriever (clearly the smartest of them all) dragged its owner toward shelter. Agatha, not particularly eager to be both emotionally and physically miserable, took off too, sprinting toward the biggest tree she could find on West Highland Drive. Because if she was gonna be existential in the rain, she might as well stay mostly dry doing it.
Almost half an hour passed, the sky growing darker with each minute. Agatha was now cold, shivering, and half-soaked, starting to seriously regret her little adventure. Just as she was about to mutter a curse, an unfamiliar car rolled to a stop in front of her.
She squinted through the rain, trying to make out the driver on the other side of the street. Then the window rolled down, and just like that, the universe proved once again how much it hated her. Because sitting in the driver’s seat, of all people, was the one person she had come here to avoid.
The passenger door swung open with a thunk. “Get in,” Rio said, way too casual for someone who had just popped up out of nowhere. Agatha just stared. First at Rio. Then at the parked car. Then back at Rio. How the actual hell had she even found her?
But instead of asking, Agatha did what she did best: making things a lot more difficult. She folded her arms, and tilted her head like she actually had a choice. “Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather wait for a cab than ride with you.”
Rio tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Agatha,” she said, her voice carrying the kind of weight that made anyone sit up and listen. “Get in the fucking car.”
Agatha, clearly shivering but still too stubborn to let go of her last ounce of pride, huffed.
“And if I don’t?”
Rio gave her a long, unimpressed look before blasting the horn.
Agatha nearly jumped out of her skin, making a few people turn and stare. “Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, half-expecting to get a ticket for causing such a scene.
“Are you getting your ass in the car, or should I plan on honking all day? I can totally do that,” Rio warned, keeping her hand firmly on the horn.
Agatha groaned, wiping the rain from her face. “Fine! Jesus. Why do you have to be so insufferable?” she huffed, climbing in and still grumbling.
Rio flicked on the heater. “Right. I’m the insufferable one,” she murmured, shaking her head.
Then, without a second thought, she yanked off her own green sweater and tossed it into Agatha’s lap. “Here, put this on before you turn the rental into a puddle.”
“I’m fine,” Agatha insisted, even though her clothes were completely soaked and sticking to her.
Rio didn’t even look over before saying. “You’re literally shaking.”
“No, I’m not,” Agatha argued, but the words barely left her before another shiver gave her away.
Rio exhaled through her nose, barely reacting. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She shifted in her seat, eyes still on the road, but her grip on the wheel tightened just a little.
“Fine! I’ll wear it.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, Agatha finally peeled off her soaked shirt and tossed it onto the car floor, sitting there in just her black bra. She stole a quick glance at Rio who, annoyingly, kept her eyes firmly on the road.
Agatha had stripped in front of plenty of women, in plenty of places, and never once batted an eye. But somehow, doing it in front of Rio, who wasn't even looking, felt weirdly awkward.
Grumbling under her breath, she hurriedly yanked the sweater over her head, pretending that absolutely none of this had flustered her in the slightest. It was warm. Too warm. And smelled like something infuriatingly familiar. Like sandalwood and vanilla and something distinctly Rio.
The car ride was thick with awkward silence, like an unwanted third passenger. Agatha forced herself not to sneak glances at Rio, instead focusing on the windshield wipers fighting against the downpour, their swish-swish the only sound besides the low hum of the heater.
Arms crossed over her chest, Rio’s sweater feeling way too comfortable on her, Agatha blurted out the question before she could stop herself. “How did you even find me?”
Rio snorted, eyes still on the road. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t really looking.”
Agatha glanced at her, waiting.
With a sigh, Rio finally elaborated. “I was out checking some greenhouse nearby and thought I saw you.” She shrugged like it was nothing. “I was just gonna keep driving, but…” She hesitated before finally saying, “Figured I owed you one after last night.”
Agatha’s fingers dug into her arms as she wondered just how much of last night Rio actually remembered. The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. Instead, she scoffed and shifted in her seat. “Maybe next time, don’t drink so much if you can’t even handle yourself.”
Rio’s grip tightened on the wheel for half a second before she let out a low chuckle. “Wow. Thank you for that life-changing advice, Mom.”
Agatha rolled her eyes but still, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from Rio’s profile, like maybe, if she just stared long enough, she might…no. She shut that thought down immediately.
Rio didn’t say anything else after that, just kept driving. One hand loose on the wheel, the other drumming an absent rhythm against her thigh. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both quietly agreed to let the rest of the ride pass in silence.
Outside, Seattle’s ever-present rain was getting worse.
After a while, Rio switched on the radio, and some monotone news anchor mumbled through the static. “– officials are advising residents to stay indoors as scattered showers have turned into a relentless downpour, causing significant flooding across multiple roads.”
Then, just as Agatha was starting to think this ride might end without any more disasters, the car in front of them slammed to a stop.
Rio cursed under her breath, braking just in time. Behind them, tires screeched as other cars came to a halt. “What the hell?” she muttered, craning her neck to get a better look. All around them, brake lights glowed red through the rain, stretching into an unmoving line of traffic ahead.
The radio continued, almost mockingly: “– severe flooding has been reported across the city, with several roads now deemed impassable due to rising water levels. Authorities are urging drivers to remain inside their vehicles and await further updates.”
Agatha groaned, slumping in her seat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Rio sighed and let her head fall against the headrest. “Unbelievable," she muttered, drumming her fingers on the wheel as she stared at the mess of unmoving cars and the chorus of honking around them.
They sat there for a full, painful hour – doing nothing except waiting and suffering in unbearable silence. The only sounds were the relentless drumming of rain against the roof, Agatha’s occasional exasperated sighs as she shifted restlessly every five minutes in her seat, and Rio annoyingly flipping through radio stations.
Finally, Agatha snapped. “Can you quit it? Flipping through stations isn’t gonna part the flood like you’re Moses. You’re just giving me a fucking headache.”
Rio didn’t even look up. “I’m trying to find a traffic update. Maybe another way back to the hotel.”
Agatha scoffed. “Right. Because any minute now, someone’s gonna come on and say, ‘Oh hey, you guys, turns out there’s a secret, flood-proof tunnel nearby, just take a left at the submerged sedan.’ ”
Rio shot her a flat look. “Nice. What a very helpful attitude, Agatha. That’ll really get us out of here faster,” she said, shaking her head and going back to messing with the radio.
Then more silence. More rain. More goddamn waiting.
Agatha groaned and let her head hit the window. “This is torture.”
“Yeah? Well, imagine being stuck here with you.”
Agatha whipped her head toward her. “Excuse me?!”
But before Rio could answer, a sudden knock on the window made them both jump.
A guy in a soaking wet neon vest stood outside, motioning for Rio to roll it down. She cracked it open just enough to hear him over the rain.
“Flood’s not clearing anytime soon,” he shouted. “Officials are advising people to either wait it out or find somewhere nearby to take shelter for the night.”
Agatha and Rio turned to look at each other at the same time. Oh, hell no.
Rio sighed, rolling the window back up and running a hand through her hair. “Alright, here’s the deal. You go find shelter. I’ll stay with the car.”
Agatha frowned. “Uh, what?”
Rio gestured vaguely at the disaster outside. “You heard the guy. We could be stuck here for hours, maybe the whole night. You should go find an inn or something. I’ll stay here.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “And why, exactly, would you do that?”
Rio shot her an exasperated look. “Because it’s a rental, and I can’t just leave it here. Work’s already gonna charge me an arm and a leg for driving it in this weather. If anything happens to it…” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Look, can you just go?”
Agatha scoffed. “You’re seriously choosing this hunk of metal over a dry bed?”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re so dumb.”
Rio shot her another look. “And yet, here I am, the one telling you to go be dry and warm instead of sitting in a car like an idiot.”
And Agatha had every reason to take the out. It was the logical thing to do. She’d been wanting to get away from Rio all day. Hell, she literally left the hotel just to put distance between them.
And yet.
As annoying as Rio was, as infuriating as this whole situation had been…the thought of leaving her here, alone, in the middle of this downpour (borderline storm) just didn’t sit right.
Agatha groaned, slumping back in her seat. “Unbelievable.”
Rio frowned. “What?”
“I’m staying.”
Rio blinked. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
Agatha crossed her arms.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you suddenly had authority over what I do.”
Rio let out an exhausted sigh. “Agatha.”
“Nope. I’ve made up my mind. If you’re suffering, I’m suffering too. We suffer together.”
Rio stared at her like she’d just spoken in tongues. “Why the hell would you do that?”
"Because I’m fucking petty, Rio!" Agatha hissed, propping her feet up on the dash just to get on her nerves. "And I know me being here pisses you off."
Rio groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Guess, I should’ve just left you in the rain.”
After another hour, the car had fallen into a new level of quiet. The rain still poured, the roads were still a mess, and Rio had finally given up on annoying the life out of the radio. Now, they just sat there. And somewhere between the frustration and the boredom, Agatha pulled out a cigarette, twirling it between her fingers. Something to do. Something to keep her hands busy before she lost her mind.
“Don’t even think about lighting that here,” Rio said flatly, not even bothering to look at her.
Agatha groaned, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t going to –” She sighed, shoving it back into her pocket. “I was just –” Another sigh. “Okay, maybe I was. But, whatever. Not worth the argument.”
A stretch of silence. Then, Rio tilted her head slightly toward her.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
Agatha let out a small, humorless laugh. “Well, as you so kindly pointed out last time, we barely know each other. How would you know?”
Rio didn’t answer.
For a while, they just sat there, listening to the rain.
Agatha caught herself stealing another glance at her. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that they had nothing better to do, or maybe she just wanted to poke at something that still felt unfinished. But before she could say anything, Rio beat her to it.
“Jen told Alice something that night,” she started, watching the rain slide down the windshield. “But I didn’t want to hear it.” Agatha didn’t say anything, but she had a feeling where this was headed. They were finally about to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
Rio let out a breath, gripping the wheel tighter. “I mean, it was a long time ago. I figured, what’s the point? But then I realized…maybe it wasn’t about what was said...maybe it was about who I heard it from.” Finally, she slowly turned to Agatha. “Maybe I just wanted to hear it from you.”
Agatha felt the weight of Rio’s eyes, and (god help her) she felt it everywhere.
Then Rio hesitated. “Why didn’t you call that night?” She tapped the steering wheel. Agatha could tell this was getting to her. After a pause, Rio hesitated again. “Was I also just part of your whole ‘better to cut and run’ thing? Or…?”
Agatha opened her mouth, then shut it. When Rio noticed, she let out a dry, almost self-conscious laugh. She shook her head.
“You know what? Forget it. I – I don’t even know why I asked.”
Agatha finally sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I lost your number.”
“What?” Rio blinked, clearly not expecting that. “What do you mean you lost it?”
Agatha shifted uncomfortably. “I lost the dollar with your number on it.”
For a second, Rio just stared at her. Then —
“You lost the dollar with my number on it?”
Agatha groaned. “Yes, Rio. I lost it. Should I say it slower?”
Rio folded her arms. “And how, exactly, does one lose a single dollar bill?”
Agatha clenched her jaw before muttering, “A pickpocket.”
Rio’s eyebrows shot up. “A pickpocket. For a dollar?” She gave Agatha a look, like she should’ve at least come up with a better excuse.
Agatha threw up her hands. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m genuinely telling you the truth here! I wanted to call, okay? But I lost the damn number.”
Rio leaned back, arms crossing over her chest. “And it never occurred to you to, I don’t know…find another way to reach me?”
Agatha shot her a glare. “Do you have any idea how much time I spent trying to track you down? How ridiculously, embarrassingly long I spent looking for you?” She scoffed, shaking her head. Then, as if just realizing something, she frowned. “And – why am I the one getting grilled here? You also had my number. You didn’t call me either.”
Rio let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “What do you mean I didn’t call? I did , you dumbass.”
Agatha frowned at the insult, though, at this point, she figured they were both dumbasses.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” Rio leveled her with a look. “But the number you gave me must've been wrong on purpose, because when I called, guess what?” She paused. “Some rude old lady picked up instead of you.”
Agatha’s stomach dropped. “An old lady?”
Rio nodded. “And I even gave you the benefit of the doubt, asked if an Agatha lived there.” She gave her another pointed look. “Guess what she said?”
Agatha winced. “She said no.”
“Bingo.” Rio huffed, shaking her head.
Agatha blinked a few times, then suddenly cursed under her breath.
Rio narrowed her eyes. “What?”
Agatha hesitated. “Did she sound…kind of stuffed up? Like she had a permanent cold?”
Rio frowned, thinking back. “I don’t know, Agatha. It was three years ago.” Then, after a beat, her eyes narrowed again. “But now that you mention it…yeah, maybe.”
“Oh, shit.” Agatha leaned forward, pressing her fingers to her temple.
“What do you mean, oh shit?”
Agatha winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. Rio just stared at her, waiting. Agatha sighed. “Alright, so...another funny story. I kinda, well, not kinda – but I got kicked out of my old apartment the morning after that night.”
Rio’s eyebrows shot up. “You got kicked out?”
Agatha shot her another look. “Rio, do I need to start providing transcripts of everything I say?” Rio just raised an expectant brow, so Agatha sighed and kept going. “Yes. I lost your number, got evicted, and when you called, it was probably my old landlady who answered – who, by the way, stubbornly refuses to call me by my actual name.”
Rio frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“She calls me Agnes,” Agatha exhaled, shaking her head. “I kept correcting her for months, but that old hag just hated me. After a while, I just gave up. I figured it wasn’t worth the effort. In whatever twisted reality she lives in, I’m Agnes.” She scoffed. “She was already looking for any excuse to kick me out, and, well…one day, she finally found one.”
Rio just stared at her, processing. Then, slowly, her lips twitched. “Oh my god.” She shook her head, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or strangle someone. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
Agatha groaned. “You think I’m happy about it?”
For a second, neither of them spoke, letting the sound of rain against the windshield fill the silence. Then, Rio let out a breath and rested her head against the seat. “Three years. Three years, Agatha,” she let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Three fucking years, and we both thought we just bailed on each other.”
Agatha studied her, trying to tell if Rio was actually mad or just taking it all in, just like she was. They both sat there like idiots, staring at the rain streaking down the windshield. The silence returned, but this time, it didn’t feel so heavy.
Rio drummed her fingers against the wheel. “So, you were actually gonna call me?”
Agatha scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Rio rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small, amused smile tugging at her lips.
“Right. Of course not.”
A beat, and another beat. Then –
"So when you said you – Agatha 'overly confident, smooth talker, zero attachments, self-proclaimed charmer, absolutely not the type to go looking’ Harkness – spent an embarrassingly long time tracking me down…exactly how embarrassingly long are we talking?”
Agatha shot her a flat, unimpressed look. “Rio, I swear to god –”
For a second, Rio just grinned at her, and then, for the first time that night, she let out a real, unguarded laugh. And somehow, without even meaning to, Agatha found herself laughing too.
But Rio just grinned, and then for the first time that night, she let out a real, unguarded laugh. And somehow, before she even realized it, Agatha found herself laughing too.
What happened next was something Agatha would never, not in a million years, call typical for her. If anything, after piecing together the ridiculous miscommunication between her and Rio, she should’ve been cursing the universe for its cruel sense of humor. Three years. Three whole years, wasted over one missing detail, a handful of bad assumptions, and the world’s worst case of bad luck. She should’ve been mad. They should’ve been both mad.
But instead, they laughed.
They sat there for another hour, neither of them in a rush to break whatever fragile, strange peace had settled between them. Eventually, by some miracle, the roads cleared, and they drove back to the hotel. It felt weirdly familiar – Agatha in the passenger seat, Rio at the wheel. She couldn’t stop glancing at her, at the slope of her nose, the way the streetlights reflected off her blonde hair.
Agatha would admit it: Rio looked stupidly good as a blonde. Annoyingly good. But god, she missed the brown. Either way, this Rio was still Rio, and she was still beautiful.
By the time they reached the hotel, standing outside their separate rooms, Agatha felt a weird sense of déjà vu. She shifted her grip on her keycard, glancing at Rio, who was fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt. It felt eerily like the last time they parted ways.
Same hesitation, same unsaid stuff just sitting there between them.
“Uh…thanks again for the ride. And, you know, for not leaving me stranded at the park,” Agatha glanced down, suddenly hyper aware of how lame that sounded.
Rio shrugged, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well…thanks for sticking around and not making me sit in that car alone. Would’ve sucked.”
Agatha huffed. “Pretty sure that was the least I could do.”
A pause. Not awkward exactly, but heavy.
Like there was more to say, but neither of them knew how to say it.
Rio shifted. “Alright, I should probably…”
“Yeah.” Agatha also shifted on her feet. “You should probably get inside.”
“Right.”
“Cool.”
Another pause. Too long. Too loaded.
Rio exhaled, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips, but she didn’t say anything.
Agatha hesitated, then mirrored it. “Goodnight, Rio.”
Rio just looked at her for a second longer, something unreadable in her eyes, something Agatha couldn’t read even if she tried. Then she nodded. “Goodnight, Agatha.”
Agatha lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling while the rain tapped against the window. She shut her eyes, hoping to fall asleep. But it never happened.
The next morning, Agatha was on her third cup of coffee, trying (and failing) to stay awake while some lawyer at the front rambled about something she couldn’t bring herself to care about. She had expected a legal discussion, maybe some actual useful information, but no. Instead, she was being treated to a long-winded tale about his glorious years at Stanford.
Agatha sighed, barely resisting the urge to rest her head on the table. Lawyers had a reputation for being egotistical narcissists, and this guy was proving the stereotype right. And if Agatha had ever bothered to open that certain email still rotting in her inbox, she probably would’ve ended up the same. Except, unlike these self-important suits who loved the sound of their own voices, she would’ve been competent. Maybe a little bit more arrogant, sure, but at least she’d have the actual skills to back it up.
She took another long sip of coffee, wondering if it was too early to fake an emergency. Maybe food poisoning. An urgent phone call. Or just slip out and knock on a certain someone’s door – the certain someone who’d been stuck in her head since last night. But realistically, faking food poisoning was Agatha’s safest bet.
After sitting through an exhausting marathon of dull lectures and ego-fueled monologues, Agatha decided to spend her night at the hotel bar again. She needed a drink (several, actually) and drinking alone in her room just felt pathetic, too isolating. At least at the bar, the noise and chatter would help drown the thoughts she wasn’t sure she was ready to face yet, but was starting to think maybe she should.
By her third drink, a familiar figure walked in. But this time, she wasn’t heading toward a booth full of colleagues or friends, she was heading straight for Agatha.
Agatha looked exactly like what she was: someone who had spent all day in a room full of lawyers and needed a drink badly: black slacks, a button-down she had haphazardly unbuttoned at the top, and a blazer she had discarded on the barstool beside her.
“Knew I’d find you here,” said Rio casually, sliding into the seat beside her.
Unlike Agatha, Rio looked effortlessly put together. She had on a black halter top that showed off her shoulders and a pair of dark jeans. Her blonde hair was still a little damp, curling at the ends like she’d just gotten out of the shower. She smelled like hotel soap and vanilla, and Agatha bit her lip to stop a very questionable, downright embarrassing moan.
But beneath the fresh-out-of-the-shower scent, she also caught something else. Had Rio been drinking in her room before coming here?
“If you’re here about your sweater, don’t worry, I already sent it to the dry cleaner," Agatha outright lied, lazily swirling what was left in her glass. As a matter of fact, the sweater in question was still on her bed, untouched. Okay, maybe not, considering she may or may not have buried her face in it more times than she’d ever admit last night.
“Relax, Agatha. That’s not why I’m here,” Rio said, leaning against the bar. “I came for a drink.”
Agatha didn't respond right away, just took another sip from her glass while Rio flagged down the bartender and ordered a whiskey. Agatha glanced at her as she took her first sip.
“Didn’t take you for a whiskey girl.”
Rio shrugged, rolling the glass between her fingers. “Didn’t used to be. But the burn kinda grows on you after a while.” She took a slow sip, “And whiskey’s good for thinking…especially when I’m about to do something spectacularly stupid.”
For a moment, they locked eyes. Both knowing, without a word, that they were absolutely flirting with the idea of doing something, as Rio put it, spectacularly stupid. But in the end, Agatha was the one who looked away first.
“So, Kew in a few weeks?” Agatha drawled, swirling the vodka in her glass. “Bet you’re excited.”
Rio paused for a beat, but she covered it up with another sip of whiskey. “Actually, it’s in a few days,” she corrected. “Got an email earlier. They said they need me there by next week.”
Agatha also paused, her grip on the glass tightening a little. But she covered it up too, knocking back another sip. “Well,” she said, forcing a smirk, “guess I better tell the dry cleaner to hurry up. Heard it’s sweater season over there very soon.”
Rio let out a small chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, rolling her glass between her fingers. “Freezing my ass off wasn’t exactly on the job description.”
They sat in silence for a moment, neither speaking. Then, almost at the same time, they took a sip. Agatha with her vodka and Rio with her whiskey. Ice clinked, the burn hit, and yet, neither of them looked at the other right away.
Then, Agatha let out a scoff, shaking her head as she traced the rim of her glass. “You know,” tilting her head toward Rio, “I still can’t believe we both thought the other one ditched first.”
Rio let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Yeah,” she muttered, staring down at her whiskey. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“Painfully,” Agatha agreed, lifting her glass like a toast to their mutual idiocy before taking another sip.
Once again, silence settled between them. Then, after a beat, Rio exhaled, almost like she was talking more to herself than to Agatha. “We never would’ve worked out, anyway.”
Agatha’s fingers tensed slightly around her glass, but she didn’t react. Not outwardly. Instead, she took another slow sip, set her drink down, and tilted her head again. “Oh yeah?” she said, aiming for casual. “And why’s that?”
Rio didn’t answer right away. She just rolled her whiskey between her fingers,watching the amber liquid catch the dim light. Then, finally, she said, “I don’t think I was ever really built for…whatever this could’ve been. And you were you. We would’ve ruined each other.”
Agatha arched her brow. “And you didn’t think we would’ve had so much fun doing that?” she quipped. “You don’t exactly strike me as someone who shies away from a little trouble.”
Rio tilted her head, considering. “Maybe,” she said. “But there’s a difference between having fun and completely crashing and burning, Agatha.”
Agatha leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the bar. “Really? That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure I just heard you say something about how the burn grows on you after a while. ”
Rio shot her a look – half amused and half exasperated – making Agatha lift her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, your words, not mine, sweetheart.”
Rio let out a short laugh. “Trust me, it would’ve been messy.”
“And you don’t think we would’ve been worth the mess?”
Rio met her eyes, “I think we would’ve been the mess.”
Their conversation dragged on, skimming past anything too serious, like they hadn’t just touched on something heavier a few moments ago.
Agatha asked Rio about her research trip so far, and Rio launched into a story about a local gardener who had flat-out refused to be interviewed unless Rio drank with him first.
That somehow led to a whole thing about plants: something about pollination methods, floral morphology, and a few other words that might as well have been in an entirely different language.
Agatha tried to keep up, really, she did. Not because she suddenly cared about plants but because Rio did. Even though she was holding back, keeping it simple, Agatha could still hear the excitement in her voice. And maybe, just maybe, she found herself imagining what it would be like to listen to Rio ramble about plants all day, despite not understanding a damn thing.
Eventually, the conversation circled back to Agatha. Rio asked about the conference, and, as expected, Agatha declared it mind-numbingly dull. The only saving grace is that she had front-row seats to some classic male mediocrity: a lawyer in front of her, texting his wife sweet nothings while simultaneously receiving some wildly inappropriate, borderline pornographic messages from another woman.
“Men are proof that evolution doesn’t always mean progress,” Agatha said at some point, swirling her drink. “They all come factory-set to cheat, lie, and disappoint.” That earned her a sharp glare from a couple of suits nearby, but she couldn’t be bothered.
Rio had laughed, shaking her head, not the least bit surprised that Agatha had been all up in someone else’s business. Agatha had just shrugged, calling it elite observational skills.
Rio called it simply being nosy.
By the time they decided to call it a night, the alcohol had settled into their bones just enough to make everything feel a little slower. Their rooms were only four floors up, but the elevator ride stretched longer than it should have: silent, charged, like neither of them dared to breathe too deeply. And when they stepped into the hallway, the walk to their rooms felt longer, too.
And then, just like last night, they found themselves standing in front of their doors again, opposite each other.
“Well,” Agatha said, clearing her throat. “That was…fun.”
Rio nodded, a little too slowly. “Yeah. It was.”
A beat.
They locked eyes, and for a second, neither moved. Then a cleaner rolled past with her cart, the wheels squeaking against the carpet. They both murmured a polite greeting at almost the exact same time, then fell back into silence, watching the cleaner disappear around the corner.
When she was gone, their eyes found each other again.
“You should probably go in now.”
"Yeah...you too."
Rio exhaled, keycard in hand. “Well…good night.”
Agatha hesitated. “Goodnight, Rio.”
She turned, ready to go inside, but then –
“Agatha.”
Agatha quickly glanced back. “Yeah?”
Another beat.
Rio looked like she wanted to say something, mouth slightly open, but then she just shook her head. “I – Sorry. It’s nothing. Never mind,” she muttered, turning back to swipe her keycard.
And that should’ve been it. They should’ve just gone inside, gone to sleep, let the moment pass like so many others before it. But –
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Agatha muttered before marching across the hall, cupping Rio’s face, and pulling her in even closer. Rio barely had time to react, her eyes were still open when Agatha’s lips crashed onto hers, like her brain was still catching up to what was happening. Her fingers instinctively caught Agatha’s wrist, like she might stop her, but she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself completely fall into it.
The kiss was neither soft nor careful. It was all heat and impulse, like years of holding back finally snapping. Agatha moaned into Rio’s mouth, her hands sliding up Rio’s back and tangling in her hair. They were both breathless by the time they stumbled into Agatha’s hotel room.
Agatha pushed Rio up against the wall, their bodies pressing together. She ran her hands down Rio’s sides, fingers trailing over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, and the soft plane of her stomach. Rio let out a breathy moan, her head falling back against the wall as her hands gripped at Agatha’s shoulders, like she needed something to hold onto.
Agatha smirked, leaning in until their lips almost touched.
“You always make that sound, or is it just for me?”
Rio huffed out a laugh, breath shaky. “Cocky.”
Agatha’s lips brushed along her jaw. “I prefer – confident.”
She then pulled Rio’s top over her head, revealing her black lace strapless bra, and reached behind her to unhook it. The moment it fell to the floor, Agatha’s eyes darkened as she took in the sight of her: every soft curve, every inch of bare skin. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
“You always did have a way with words,” said Rio.
“And actions." With the other woman’s breast spilling out, Agatha wasted no time, dipping her head to take one of her nipples into her mouth, her tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.
“Fuck,” Rio gasped as Agatha sucked on it, her fingers digging into Agatha’s shoulders. She pulled Agatha up for another kiss, her tongue darting into Agatha’s mouth. “God, you feel so good.” Rio’s hand then wandered down Agatha’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze, making Agatha moan into Rio’s mouth while her hands ran through Rio’s blonde hair.
Agatha’s lips trailed down Rio’s neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin before biting down just enough to make Rio gasp. “I want you so fucking bad. I’ve always wanted you,” she growled. “I’ve thought about this...about you, for so long.” She then pulled back just enough to meet Rio's eyes. “Three years, Rio.”
Three years ago, Agatha would’ve scoffed, maybe even given herself a solid smack, for letting something this sappy slip out in the heat of the moment. She didn’t do confessions, didn’t admit things, especially not like this. But with Rio pressed against her, her warmth, her breath, her everything, the words just came out before she could stop them.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me .”
For a second, something surfaced in Rio’s eyes: hesitation, uncertainty, maybe even fear. And Agatha felt it too, a brief knot of doubt twisting in her stomach. But then, just as quickly, Rio’s brown eyes softened, like she was done fighting, like she was finally allowing herself to want this. Finally, Rio answered by crashing her lips against Agatha’s, her hands cupping Agatha’s face like she couldn’t stand the thought of letting go.
She then pulled back just enough for their foreheads to touch. Her breath was warm against Agatha’s lips. “You know I do. I was always going to,” Rio confessed, like she was admitting it to herself as much as to Agatha.
Rio gasped as Agatha's hands slipped under her pants, teasing the skin there. Agatha then gradually dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on Rio's. Slowly, she unbuttoned Rio's pants and slid them down, along with the black lace panties beneath.
Agatha looked up. “Still with me?”
“Yes.” Rio exhaled shakily, nodding, fingers tightening in Agatha’s hair.
“Good,” Agatha leaned in, and gently ran her tongue up Rio's slit.
Rio let out a shaky moan, her head falling back against the wall. “Yes. Fuck. Just like that. Yes, Agatha,” she whimpered, her back arching instinctively. Her fingers tightened in Agatha’s hair, nails scraping against her scalp as if anchoring herself. “Please don't stop,” Rio pleaded.
Agatha worked her tongue in slow, deliberate strokes at first. But as Rio’s moans grew more desperate, Agatha picked up the pace, her tongue flicking over her clit while her fingers thrust even deeper. “Agatha – fuck,” Rio choked out, her chest rising and falling. Agatha hummed in response, the vibration making her shudder. Her hips jerked instinctively, chasing the pleasure, until her legs turned to jelly, barely holding her up.
Agatha smirked against her, dragging her tongue over Rio’s clit before sucking hard, her fingers curling inside her at just the right angle. That was all it took.
Rio’s body tensed. She let out another choked moan, her fingers pulling at Agatha’s hair as she rode out her orgasm, her limbs turning almost boneless as she sagged against the wall.
Agatha pulled back just in time to catch her, wrapping her arms around Rio’s shaky body before she could slide down the wall. She pressed soft, lingering kisses along the inside of Rio’s thigh, whispering, “I’m right here. I’m right here, baby.”
With gentle hands, Agatha guided her up, pulling her close. Rio slumped into her, her head resting against Agatha’s shoulder, body still humming from the aftershocks. Agatha held her tight, one hand running slow, soothing strokes down her back.
“Guess I really did a number on you, huh?” Agatha teased, smirking.
Rio huffed against her neck, still breathless. “Shut up.”
As soon as Rio got her footing, they were both making a beeline for the bed. Agatha, breathless and impatient, wasted no time yanking off her shirt and tossing it aside. Rio looked at her hungrily, and then her hands moved with a possessive urgency down Agatha's body. Her pants and panties were pulled off quickly, showing off what was underneath.
As they moved together, Rio’s eyes wandered to the bed, where the familiar green sweater was carelessly tossed across the sheets. She arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you already took this to the dry cleaner.”
Agatha’s face turned red the moment she realized she’d been caught. “Uh, I might’ve lied,” she mumbled, avoiding Rio’s eyes. “There’s just something about your scent, baby.” She quickly pressed her face into Rio’s neck, breathing her in and placing soft kisses along her skin.
Rio let out a breathless laugh, “God, you're so down bad for me, aren't you?”
“Maybe,” Agatha replied, eyes locked with Rio's, her hand resting against her chest. “But you’re not exactly pulling away either.” She leaned in even closer, her lips brushing against Rio’s ear. “I think we’re both in the same boat here, sweetheart.”
They began to grind against each other, their bodies moving in a feverish rhythm, building the tension until it was almost unbearable. “Jesus, you’re driving me crazy,” Agatha’s nails raked down Rio’s back as their rhythm deepened, the tension building, curling tight in her stomach.
Rio pressed her forehead against Agatha’s and her fingers now found their way inside her, slow at first, then deeper, drawing a shaky gasp from Agatha’s lips. “Fuck...yes,” Agatha moaned, her hands gripping Rio’s back. “Just like that. So close, Rio.”
Rio curled her fingers, drawing out another strangled moan from Agatha, whose body arched off the bed, hips moving desperately to meet her touch. The tension built and built until the climax finally took hold. “You can let go now,” Rio whispered, her own breath ragged. “I got you.”
Agatha cried out, her whole body shaking as she found release, and seconds later, Rio followed, gasping as they both fell apart: trembling, spent, and breathless in the aftermath.
Agatha’s fingers automatically threaded through Rio’s hair, her other hand resting on the bare skin of her back. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say. Not yet, anyway. Instead, they just lay there, their bodies still tangled together as they caught their breath.
Minutes passed, maybe ten, maybe more. Agatha wasn’t really keeping track until she let out a quiet chuckle, more to herself than anything. “Well,” she mumbled, “That happened.”
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting: maybe a laugh, maybe some teasing comment. But Rio didn’t answer. And when Agatha turned her head, she found her already fast asleep.
Agatha took in the sight a little longer. Rio's breathing had evened out, her lips slightly parted. Her cheeks still held a faint flush. She looked so soft like this, so unguarded.
And her mouth...God, her mouth. Agatha had spent the last hour tasting it, and somehow, she still wasn’t sick of it at all.
“You really do look pretty when you’re not arguing with me,” she whispered, knowing Rio wouldn’t hear it. She bit back a smile as her eyes drifted to Rio’s lips again.
For a second, Agatha genuinely considered it. She almost leaned in. Just one more kiss, she thought. A soft one this time, something more tender. Something that didn’t demand, didn’t take, and just gave .
But instead, she decided to swallow the unexplainable urge, gently tugging the blanket up over Rio’s bare body and then over herself. And with one last lingering look at the woman beside her, Agatha willed herself to sleep.
Agatha woke to a cold draft stabbing at her bare back and the grating assault of Pocketful of Sunshine blaring from her phone. It had probably been going off for minutes, automatically snoozing itself and then coming back louder, basically screaming at her to get the hell up.
Jen was the one who set that up, and Agatha had no clue how to fucking change it. With a groggy sigh, she groped blindly for her phone on the nightstand and shut the damn thing off. She barely had a second to settle before something else registered: the emptiness beside her.
She ran a hand over the mattress where Rio should’ve been. But she was already gone.
Agatha sat up slowly, the hotel room feeling bigger and emptier than it had last night, though the air still held the ghost of alcohol and sex. This was new. A first for Agatha. She was usually the one slipping out before sunrise, or the one making it clear that things ended when the night did.
Rubbing a hand over her face, she told herself it didn’t mean anything. Rio probably had work. Or maybe she just didn’t do the whole morning-after thing. That was fine. Agatha didn’t either.
Shaking the thought off, Agatha forced herself out of bed and into the shower. By the time she emerged, she was dressed in a crisp beige button-down, blazer, and tailored slacks, looking every bit the polished professional she was supposed to be for her last conference day.
But as she stepped into the hallway, her eyes immediately caught on the open door across from hers. Just as she reached it, she heard the low hum of a vacuum. Inside, the bed was stripped down to its white mattress. The desk was wiped clean. No suitcase. No leather jacket draped over the chair. No scuffed boots kicked off by the closet. Every trace of Rio was gone.
Agatha’s throat felt dry as she cleared it. “Uh, excuse me,” she said, catching the attention of the same hotel cleaner from the night before. The woman paused, glancing up from where she was adjusting the bedding. “The guest who was staying here. Did she already check out?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman straightened up and confirmed. “She left early this morning. Hotel car took her to the airport.”
Agatha couldn’t shake the sour mood all day, probably didn’t help that she spent it arguing with a lawyer over whether parking half an inch over the line was really worth a $200 fine. But the real slap in the face was Rio leaving without so much as a damn message. How rude.
Funny, considering that used to be her move.
But Rio pulling that stunt? Now that was just plain insulting.
Agatha stepped into her New York apartment and let her suitcase thud against the floor. The flight had felt longer than it actually was, but her exhaustion had little to do with travel.
The moment she set foot inside, the familiar scent of home wrapped around her, but it didn’t feel as comforting as it should have. Maybe it was because she didn’t feel fully here. Like a part of her was still back in Seattle, tangled up in sheets, in hands that held her like...but Agatha shut that thought down the second Jen walked out of the kitchen.
“Hey, you’re back,” Jen said, not bothering to look up as she strolled past in sweatpants and a hoodie, casually munching dry cereal straight from the box.
“Yep.” Agatha tossed her keys onto the counter with a soft clink.
Jen finally glanced over, squinting at her over a handful of Froot Loops.
“Damn. You look like hell.”
“Wow, thanks, Jen,” Agatha deadpanned, making a beeline for the fridge. She grabbed a soda, popped the cap, and took a long sip.
Jen kept staring, crunching obnoxiously loud. “What's up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure? You seem…” Jen waved a vague hand in her direction. “Weird.”
Agatha scoffed. “Gee, Kale, I don’t know. I just got back. Maybe I’m tired?”
Jen rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but shrugged anyway. “Fine. Whatever. Anyway, I’m heading out later. Alice and I are grabbing drinks, and I’ll probably crash at her place. Are you good being alone for the night?”
Agatha snorted.
“Wow, what a friend you are. Leaving me on my first night back. Truly heartwarming.”
Jen rolled her eyes again as she headed to her room. “Oh, please. You’re a grown woman, you’ll be fine. Just try not to drink yourself into another ER visit this time. I’m not making my date play nurse for you again.”
“That was one time,” Agatha argued, waving a hand dismissively. Then, more casually, “But seriously, have fun, you two. And remember: hydration is key.”
Jen threw a Froot Loop at her face. “Oh my God. Shut up.”
Agatha dodged it with a laugh. “I’m just saying, dehydration leads to muscle cramps, Jen. It’s a real mood killer. No one wants to be the girl who cramps up mid-orgasm. You wanna last, superstar. Not tap out early.”
Jen gagged dramatically. “Why are you like this?”
“Lesbian solidarity,” Agatha replied, grabbing a handful of cereal.
Jen groaned. “I actually hate you.”
“Uh-huh.” Agatha popped a piece of cereal in her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”
An hour later, Agatha was alone. And the hours after that.
She sprawled out on the couch, beer in hand, flipping through channels without really watching anything. A cooking show, a crime doc, some reality show where people screamed at each other – but nothing stuck.
She grabbed her phone, scrolling through delivery apps, barely reading the options. Pizza. That was easy. She picked a place that wouldn’t take forever, tapped on a large pepperoni with extra cheese, placed the order, and set her phone aside.
Another sip of beer. Another mindless stare at the TV.
Anything. Any flimsy distraction to keep her from thinking about Rio.
More than an hour in, Agatha found herself glaring at the wall clock. How the hell was the pizza taking this long? Sure, they weren’t in some luxury high-rise, but they scored a decent deal on this place. And decent deals in New York should at least come with efficient pizza delivery.
When the doorbell rang, Agatha sighed in relief. “Finally,” she muttered, already imagining the warm pizza in her hands. She grabbed her wallet off the counter, mentally preparing for the exchange as she walked toward the door. “Genuine question, do you get your dough shipped fresh from Naples, or is it just regular New York incompetence?”
But when she fully swung the door open, she froze.
It wasn’t a delivery guy holding a pizza box. Instead, there stood a woman. Her blonde hair is a little messy, as if she’d just sprinted from somewhere to Agatha’s doorstep.
Rio.
Agatha’s stomach dropped, her face scrunching into an immediate frown.
“You’re not my pizza.”