In Bloom

Part Five: Survival of the Fittest

On the eleventh day of the retreat, Jennie and Lisa showed up to their morning activity expecting to see the usual instructors. But instead, she stood in front of the group, arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool in a fitted tank top and cargo pants.

Lisa elbowed Jennie. "This just got a thousand times more interesting."

Jennie swallowed. "No kidding."

The farmer scanned the group, her gaze lingering briefly on Jennie and Lisa before she spoke. "Morning. I'm filling in for the survival skills class today. The couple who usually teaches it caught a stomach bug, so you're stuck with me."

Lisa grinned. "Oh no. How will we survive?"

The farmer smirked. "Guess you'll have to pay attention and find out."

Jennie's stomach did an unexpected flip.

The lesson started with basic wilderness survival—how to find clean water, how to identify edible plants, how to navigate without a compass.

But the real fun began when she handed out knives.

"We're learning how to start fires," she announced, passing out small flint strikers and steel.

Jennie's eyes widened. "Wait... you trust us with fire?"

The farmer chuckled. "Not really. But I'll be watching."

Lisa waggled her eyebrows. "I don't mind you watching."

The farmer gave her an unimpressed look. "Focus, Lisa."

Jennie smirked. "She's flirting with you and you're giving her teacher voice?"

Lisa groaned. "Right? She's immune to my charm."

The farmer shook her head, but her lips twitched. "You're impossible."

As they practiced striking flint against steel, Jennie stole glances at her. The way she crouched beside retreat-goers to correct their technique, the way she absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair when she was thinking—it was all unfairly attractive.

Lisa caught Jennie staring and nudged her. "You've got it bad."

Jennie scowled. "Shut up."

After an hour of trial and error, everyone finally got a small fire going.

The farmer stood back, arms crossed, looking satisfied. "Not bad. I half expected someone to set themselves on fire."

Lisa grinned. "You underestimate us."

The farmer smirked. "Or maybe I don't."

As the class wrapped up, Jennie and Lisa lingered behind, waiting until the others had wandered off.

Lisa leaned against a tree. "So, mysterious farmer, do we get to know your name yet?"

The farmer hesitated.

Jennie raised an eyebrow. "What, is it classified information?"

The farmer exhaled through her nose, amused. "It's ___."

Lisa grinned. "___." She tested the name on her tongue. "I like it."

Jennie let it settle in her mind, feeling something shift.

She liked it, too.

And she had a feeling she and Lisa were going to like a lot more about ___ before this retreat was over.

_____

As the crowd thinned out and the fire pits were reduced to smoldering embers, Lisa stretched and let out a dramatic sigh.

"I'm starving. I need something greasy and possibly fatal. Want me to bring you both something?" she asked, already backing away toward the dining cabin.

Jennie shook her head. "I'm good."

___ glanced up from the gear she was packing away. "No thanks."

Lisa smirked knowingly at Jennie. "Alright then. I'll leave you two to... whatever this is." She gave Jennie a wink before disappearing into the trees.

Jennie turned slowly to find ___ watching her with an unreadable expression.

"You know she's not subtle," Jennie said.

"She doesn't try to be." ___ crouched to zip up a duffel bag, the muscles in her arms flexing under her tank top. "That's part of her charm, I guess."

Jennie stepped closer, crouching beside her. "So what's your story? You crash this retreat or were you always planning to teach us how not to die in the woods?"

___ gave her a sideways look. "They call me when things go sideways. I'm like the wilderness substitute teacher."

"Wilderness substitute teacher," Jennie repeated, amused. "That sounds fake."

"I'd say the fire you started earlier says otherwise."

Jennie tilted her head. "You mean the fire Lisa started?"

"No," ___ said, smirking slightly. "I mean the one you kept pretending you didn't care about but got really competitive over when Lisa lit hers first."

Jennie narrowed her eyes. "Okay, maybe. But in my defense, I did get mine going before that guy from Arizona set his sleeve on fire."

___ let out a low laugh. "Fair. You've got decent instincts."

Jennie arched a brow. "Is that a compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

There was a beat of silence as Jennie studied her. The air was cooler in the woods now, filtered sunlight dappling through the branches, but her skin still felt too warm.

"I get the feeling you don't like attention," Jennie said softly.

"I don't mind attention. I mind nonsense."

"So you think I'm nonsense?"

"Did I say that?" ___ looked at her, their eyes locking for just a second too long. "You're... different."

Jennie swallowed, then smirked to cover the flutter in her chest. "That better not be code for 'annoying.'"

"I didn't say it wasn't."

Jennie laughed, nudging her shoulder. "You're mean."

"You're not scared off yet."

"Maybe I like the challenge."

___ stood slowly, brushing off her hands. "You should be careful with that kind of talk."

"Why?" Jennie stood too, brushing her hair back. "You might actually flirt back?"

___ looked at her, mouth twitching like she was biting back a smile. "If I did, you wouldn't be ready for it."

Jennie stepped closer, just a fraction, enough to test the air between them. "Try me."

They stared at each other in silence. Not awkward, but heavy, like both were waiting for the other to blink.

Finally, ___ broke eye contact, picking up the duffel bag. "You should get lunch."

Jennie didn't move. "Not hungry."

"Liar."

Jennie grinned. "Maybe."

___ shook her head, her smile faint but real. "Go. Before Lisa brings back food and finds us mid-standoff."

Jennie hesitated, then backed up a step, letting the moment cool.

"This isn't over," she said over her shoulder.

"I'd be disappointed if it was."

Jennie turned and started down the trail, heart pounding like she'd just outrun something wild.

And maybe, in a way, she had. Or maybe, she was just running toward it.

The woods were quiet again, the echo of retreat-goers long gone down the trail toward the mess hall. Only birdsong and the occasional crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air. ___ moved methodically, kneeling by the fire kits and stacking the flint strikers into a canvas pouch. Her tank top clung lightly to her back, the afternoon sun warming her skin as she worked in the shade of a broad cedar.

The silence broke with the snap of twigs under hurried footsteps.

Lisa jogged into the clearing, chest rising with the faintest breathlessness. She skidded to a stop, frowning when she didn't see who she was looking for.

"She just left, didn't she?" Lisa asked, her hands on her hips.

___ didn't even look up. "Thirty seconds ago. You might've caught her if you hadn't stopped to charm the cook for extra cookies."

Lisa gasped, feigning insult. "You wound me. I brought you something, you know."

That made ___ glance up. Lisa was holding a small, foil-wrapped snack bar and a napkin with two neatly folded triangles of grilled cheese.

"Thought you might be hungry. Or at least more agreeable after eating."

___ raised an eyebrow. "So this is a bribe."

"No," Lisa said, walking over and crouching beside her, the smell of toasted bread and melted cheese wafting between them. "It's a peace offering. I think we got off on the wrong foot."

___ took the grilled cheese, fingers brushing Lisa's briefly. "You mean the foot where you kept flirting while waving around a knife?"

Lisa grinned. "What can I say? I multitask."

___ let out a quiet laugh, biting into the sandwich. It was crisp, buttery, and still warm.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the forest settling in again. Lisa leaned back on her hands, watching the canopy overhead dance with sunlight.

"So..." Lisa started, tossing a small pinecone between her palms. "Is this your thing? Teaching clueless city kids how to survive the apocalypse?"

"Basically," ___ replied, sipping from her water bottle. "I grew up off-grid. Farming, camping, hunting. This stuff's second nature."

Lisa tilted her head, intrigued. "No wonder you're so confident. You're basically a hot, wilderness Batman."

___ laughed — a real one this time, warm and low. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Lisa grinned. "Obviously. I only call people 'Batman' when I'm impressed."

"And what else do you call people you're impressed by?"

Lisa leaned in a little, just enough to make it noticeable. "Wouldn't you like to know."

___ paused, then tilted her head. "You're impossible."

"And yet," Lisa said, pulling something from her jacket pocket — a mini peanut butter cup — "I come bearing more gifts."

"You're trying to get on my good side."

Lisa smiled, almost smug. "Am I not already on it?"

___ looked at her for a long beat, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're flirting again."

Lisa popped the peanut butter cup into her mouth. "It's only flirting if I mean it."

"You don't?"

Lisa licked her lips slowly, her gaze dropping to ___'s mouth before flicking back up. "Sometimes I do."

The air between them grew dense, heavy with heat and something unspoken. Then, casually, Lisa leaned forward and brushed her lips just barely across the edge of ___'s mouth — not quite a kiss, but undeniably close.

___ blinked, caught entirely off guard, frozen in place.

Lisa's voice dropped to a playful whisper. "That's for carrying grilled cheese through half a forest."

Just as the moment threatened to tip into something more, footsteps returned on the trail.

Jennie emerged from the trees, a ziplock bag of grapes in one hand, her expression neutral — too neutral.

"I, uh... brought you these," she said, offering the bag to ___. "The guy at the bar said you liked fruit."

The bag crinkled as ___ took it, brushing her fingers awkwardly against Jennie's. She was still a little dazed, her mind half-stuck on the feeling of Lisa's mouth so close moments before.

Lisa had already taken two exaggerated steps back, stretching her arms like nothing had happened. "Wow, must really like feeding her."

Jennie smiled, lips tight. "What can I say? She works hard. Deserves a treat."

The tension snapped between them like a pulled wire. ___ looked from Jennie to Lisa and back again, both girls radiating something electric and possessive, though cloaked in sarcasm and nonchalance.

Jennie glanced at the grilled cheese crust on the ground, then at ___'s flushed cheeks. "Did I interrupt something?"

Lisa smirked. "Just a wilderness debrief."

Jennie raised an eyebrow. "Looked more like a snack exchange."

___ cleared her throat. "It was... nothing."

Lisa gave her a sidelong glance. "Was it?"

Jennie blinked slowly looking between the two of them.

The three of them stood there for a moment, suspended in silence, the scent of charred wood and grilled cheese still lingering in the air.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, a crow cawed — loud, sharp, like a warning.

___ suddenly wasn't sure which was more dangerous: the forest... or the girls in front of her.

Part Six: Moonlit Temptation

Later that evening….

The scent of fresh earth and distant wildflowers lingered in the warm night air as Jennie made her way toward the farmhouse. She was a little buzzed from the wine she'd had at dinner, and maybe that was why she felt bold enough to do this. Or maybe it was just the undeniable pull she felt toward ___.

Lisa had caught onto it earlier.

"You're gonna make a move, aren't you?" Lisa had smirked over her glass, swirling the deep red liquid.

Jennie had only shrugged. "Maybe."

Now, standing in front of the farmhouse's wooden porch, she smoothed her hands over her linen pants, exhaling slowly before knocking.

A few seconds later, the door swung open.

___ stood there, dressed casually in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement. "Jennie."

Jennie leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Caught you at a bad time?"

___ arched a brow. "Depends on why you're here."

Jennie tilted her head, letting her eyes drag lazily over ___'s frame before meeting her gaze again. "Thought I'd come by and keep you company."

___ let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. "I see the wine from dinner is working its magic."

Jennie stepped forward, closing some of the space between them. "Maybe. But I think we both know I would've ended up here either way."

___ studied her, leaning against the doorframe. "You're awfully confident tonight."

Jennie shrugged, letting her fingers trace the wooden frame of the door. "I just don't see the point in pretending I don't want to get to know you better." She let the words settle between them before adding, "And I don't just mean as friends."

___'s lips twitched, as if she was holding back a smirk. "You don't waste time, do you?"

Jennie stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "Not when I see something I want."

___ closed the door behind her, shaking her head but clearly amused. "And what is it you want, Jennie?"

Jennie turned, looking up at her through half-lidded eyes. "You."

___ exhaled, her jaw tightening just slightly. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Jennie smirked. "I like a little danger."

For a moment, they just stood there, tension thick in the dimly lit kitchen.

Then ___ shook her head and reached for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. "If you're gonna be bold, we might as well make a night of it."

Jennie grinned, watching as ___ poured two shots and slid one across the counter to her. "I knew I liked you."

___ raised an eyebrow. "That easy to win you over?"

Jennie lifted her glass. "Maybe I'm just easy to please."

___ chuckled and clinked their glasses together before knocking her shot back. Jennie followed suit, feeling the warmth of the liquor trail down her throat.

They took another. Then another.

Jennie had settled onto one of the stools by the kitchen island, watching ___ with a lazy kind of interest. She liked how controlled she was, how even with alcohol in her system, she didn't let herself slip too much.

Jennie, on the other hand, had no problem letting her walls down tonight.

"So, what's your deal?" Jennie asked, swirling the last remnants of her drink. "You always this mysterious?"

___ smirked. "I like my privacy."

Jennie hummed, standing up and leaning toward her slightly. "You're interesting. I like that about you."

___ gave her an amused look. "You like things you can't figure out."

Jennie's smirk deepened. "Guilty."

___ exhaled, setting her glass down. "Alright, that's enough for tonight."

Jennie pouted slightly, resting a hand on her hip. "That's it? You're sending me back to my cabin?"

___ crossed her arms, looking at her with a mix of amusement and something unreadable. "I think you've had just enough to feel bold but not enough to regret anything tomorrow."

Jennie studied her for a moment, then smirked. "Then take a walk with me."

___ raised an eyebrow. "A walk?"

Jennie nodded. "I wanna see what the farm looks like at night. I heard it's beautiful when the lights come on."

For a moment, ___ seemed to consider it. Then, with a small sigh, she grabbed a light jacket from the back of the chair and gestured toward the door. "Alright. Let's walk."

Jennie grinned in victory as she followed her out into the warm Texas night.

The air smelled of fresh hay, honeysuckle, and the lingering scent of the day's harvest. String lights stretched across the barn and parts of the field, casting a soft golden glow over the land. Fireflies flickered near the trees, and in the distance, the faint sound of crickets filled the air.

Jennie let out a breath. "Wow."

___ glanced at her. "Impressed?"

Jennie smiled. "Yeah. It's... peaceful."

___ nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets. "It's why I love it out here. Everything slows down."

Jennie glanced over at her, feeling a different kind of warmth settle in her chest. This wasn't just about attraction anymore. She wanted to know more—wanted to understand the way ___ saw the world.

They walked in silence for a few more moments before Jennie finally spoke. "Do you ever get lonely out here?"

___ hesitated. "Sometimes. But I like my own company."

Jennie hummed. "I like my own company, too. But I also like yours."

___ glanced at her, something flickering in her eyes. "You don't give up, do you?"

Jennie grinned. "Not when something's worth chasing."

___ let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Come on. I'll show you the greenhouse."

Jennie followed, a satisfied smile playing at her lips.

Tonight felt like the beginning of something.

And Jennie was determined to see where it led.

Part Seven: The Greenhouse Secret

The greenhouse stood on the far end of the farm, its structure glowing softly under the golden string lights that lined its roof. The exterior was framed with climbing vines, their leaves gently swaying in the night breeze. Large glass panes reflected the moonlight, giving the entire building a dreamlike appearance.

Jennie trailed behind ___ as they approached, her steps slow, deliberate. The night air felt warmer than before, or maybe that was just the effect of being close to ___—the woman who somehow made the quiet hum of the farm feel electric.

"This is beautiful," Jennie murmured, running her fingers lightly along the vine-covered entrance.

___ unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Jennie. "Wait until you see the inside."

Jennie entered, and the scent of fresh soil, herbs, and ripe fruit enveloped her. The air was thick with warmth and humidity, making the glass panels fog slightly along the edges. Wooden trellises stretched along the ceiling, where vines of cherry tomatoes and passionfruit curled downward like nature's chandelier. Rows of raised garden beds were lined with neatly labeled plants—lavender, basil, rosemary, and more exotic varieties Jennie didn't recognize. In the farthest corner, small citrus trees stood, their tiny green fruits glowing under the overhead lights.

Jennie turned slowly, taking it all in. "Okay... this is actually the most magical place I've ever been."

___ smirked, closing the door behind her. "It's my favorite place on the farm. It's where I experiment."

Jennie arched a brow. "Experiment with what?"

___ only grinned. "Come on."

She led Jennie toward the back of the greenhouse, where a separate wooden door was partially hidden behind thick hanging ivy. It looked almost secret, as if it had been placed there for someone to stumble upon like a treasure.

Jennie placed a hand on the wood, glancing at ___. "Do I need a password?"

___ chuckled. "Just a little trust."

She pushed the door open, revealing a tucked-away garden space, separate from the rest of the greenhouse. The lighting was dimmer here, golden lamps placed at strategic angles to highlight the plants growing in various-sized pots.

And in the center of it all was something unexpected.

Pink pineapples.

Jennie blinked. "What the—are these real?"

___ reached out, plucking a perfectly ripe one from its medium-sized pot with ease. The skin was a soft, rosy hue, unlike any pineapple Jennie had ever seen.

"They're real," ___ confirmed. "Rare, but I've been growing them for years."

Jennie folded her arms, watching her. "And here I thought you couldn't get any cooler."

___ chuckled, setting the pineapple down on a worktable. "I use them for a special drink I make. Want to try?"

Jennie smirked, leaning against the table. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

___ gave her a slow, knowing look. "I think you've already had enough to make some bad decisions."

Jennie bit her lip, her eyes glinting. "Who says they'd be bad?"

___ exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as she grabbed the pineapple and motioned for Jennie to follow her back to the main farmhouse.

Jennie followed, her steps lighter now, her mind buzzing—not just from the alcohol but from the way ___ looked at her.

Or rather, the way ___ was trying not to look at her.

Part Eight: A Taste of Temptation and Late Night Tours

The farmhouse kitchen was dimly lit, the rustic wooden countertops illuminated only by the warm glow of a single overhead light. The place smelled like herbs, citrus, and something subtly sweet—probably whatever ___ had been working on earlier.

Jennie leaned against the island, watching as ___ expertly sliced the pink pineapple, its flesh even more vibrantly colored than the exterior.

"So, what's in this 'special' drink?" Jennie asked, tilting her head.

___ smirked as she worked, her hands moving with practiced ease. "Fresh pink pineapple juice, a little coconut cream, a splash of white rum, and a few other ingredients I won't tell you."

Jennie arched a brow. "Keeping secrets already?"

___ poured the freshly squeezed pineapple juice into a shaker, adding the other ingredients with precise movements. "I have to keep some mystery."

Jennie stepped closer, resting her elbows on the counter. "I think I like you better when you're mysterious."

___ glanced at her, shaking the mixture with one hand while reaching for two glasses with the other. "And here I thought you liked me for my plants."

Jennie's gaze dropped briefly to ___'s hands, the veins in her forearms shifting subtly as she moved.

"Oh, I like your plants," Jennie murmured, voice teasing. "But I like you more."

___ said nothing, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she poured the drink into two glasses, adding a small slice of pink pineapple as garnish.

She slid one toward Jennie, their fingers brushing in the exchange.

Jennie's breath hitched—just slightly, just enough for her to wonder if ___ noticed.

When she looked up, ___ was already watching her.

Neither of them spoke.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the night outside, the slow ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.

Jennie curled her fingers around the glass but didn't drink yet. She let the tension settle, let the warmth in her chest expand as she held ___'s gaze.

And then, slowly, she lifted the drink to her lips.

The first sip was a burst of tropical sweetness—smooth, slightly creamy, perfectly balanced.

Jennie licked her lips, letting out an appreciative hum. "Okay. That's... really good."

___ leaned against the counter, watching her with a look Jennie couldn't quite place. "Told you."

Jennie set her glass down and took a step closer. "You know..." She dragged a fingertip along the rim of the glass. "I have a feeling this drink will always remind me of you now."

___ exhaled a quiet laugh. "That bad, huh?"

Jennie smirked. "No. That good."

The air thickened again, the kind of tension that felt impossible to ignore.

Jennie wanted to push it, to see how far she could take it before ___ finally caved.

But before she could say another word, the kitchen door swung open.

Wynter stepped inside, his gaze immediately landing on the two of them.

For a second, he just stared.

Then, his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. "Ohhh."

___ rolled her eyes. "Don't start."

Jennie, still slightly tipsy, grinned. "Hey, Wynter."

Wynter pointed between them. "Is this—am I interrupting something?"

___ gave him a flat look. "Yes. So go away."

Wynter grinned, stepping over to the fridge. "You know, I was just coming for a snack, but this is way better."

Jennie chuckled, taking another sip of her drink. "We were just talking."

Wynter opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. "Yeah, sure. Talking. That's what we're calling it."

___ shot him a warning look. "Go. Now."

Wynter backed toward the door, still grinning. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your talking." He waggled his brows at Jennie before disappearing out the door.

The second he was gone, Jennie laughed. "He's fun."

___ sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "He's a menace."

Jennie smirked, stepping closer again. "So... where were we?"

___ looked at her, eyes flicking briefly to her lips before she reached for her drink.

Jennie caught the hesitation in that glance.

___ took a slow sip of her drink, her dark eyes locking onto Jennie's as she set the glass back down on the counter. The air between them was thick, humming with something unspoken but undeniable.

Jennie's lips curled into a playful smirk as she tapped her nails against her own glass. She had already decided—before the night was up, she was going to kiss ___.

"So," Jennie started, leaning slightly forward. "Since you clearly have excellent taste, judging by the greenhouse... I'm very curious to see how the rest of this place looks."

___ raised a brow, amusement flickering in her expression. "You're asking for a house tour at almost midnight?"

Jennie tilted her head. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

___ chuckled, shaking her head as she took another sip of her drink. "You're dangerous."

Jennie grinned. "You have no idea."

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension stretching between them like an invisible thread.

Then ___ sighed, setting her glass aside. "Fine. But if we wake anyone up, I'm blaming you."

Jennie bit her lip to hide her victorious smile.

With a quiet laugh, ___ motioned for Jennie to follow her.

⸻

They moved through the farmhouse in hushed whispers, their steps slow and deliberate as they snuck past the dimly lit hallways.

The farmhouse was beautiful, a mix of rustic charm and modern elegance. High wooden beams stretched across the ceilings, and framed photographs lined the walls—some old, sepia-toned memories, others newer snapshots of people laughing at family gatherings.

The kitchen flowed seamlessly into a cozy living area, where a massive stone fireplace sat at the center, its mantel decorated with tiny potted plants and well-loved books. A plush sectional couch took up most of the space, adorned with knitted blankets that looked just as inviting as the warm glow of the fairy lights strung along the walls.

Jennie ran her fingers over the back of the couch, glancing at ___. "This is really cozy. Feels... lived-in, you know?"

___ smiled. "That's the goal. No one's ever supposed to feel like a guest here."

Jennie hummed, looking around again. "And yet, you have a mysterious side to you. I bet your bedroom's just as gorgeous as the greenhouse." She gave ___ a playful, knowing look. "In fact, I definitely need to see it now."

___ exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You don't give up, do you?"

Jennie shrugged. "Not when I really want something."

___ sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fine. But if you tell anyone I let you into my room at midnight, I'm kicking you off the farm."

Jennie smirked. "Noted."

⸻

___'s bedroom was at the very back of the house, separated from the other rooms by a short hallway. Unlike the rest of the farmhouse, her space had its own entrance, leading to a small private patio wrapped in string lights.

Jennie sucked in a breath as soon as they stepped inside.

The room was stunning.

A mix of modern and earthy, with warm-toned walls and sleek furniture that blended effortlessly with rustic elements. A large bed sat in the center, draped in dark green and cream-colored blankets. Above it, floating shelves held an assortment of plants, books, and framed photographs. A woven rug covered the hardwood floor, and a soft lamp on the nightstand cast a golden glow across the space.

But what really caught Jennie's attention was the opposite wall.

A massive desk took up most of the space, holding a state-of-the-art gaming PC with multiple monitors, a mechanical keyboard that glowed in shifting colors, and a sleek black headset. Nearby, a large flatscreen TV was mounted above a console setup, where a collection of video game cases was neatly stacked.

Jennie let out a slow whistle. "Okay. You did not strike me as a gamer."

___ smirked. "Everyone needs a hobby."

Jennie walked over to the desk, running her fingers over the edge of the keyboard. "What do you play?"

"A little of everything," ___ said, watching her. "Mostly FPS games on my PC. I love games with plot like Cyberpunk, Red Dead and all of the GTA's. I also play multiplayer games too."

Jennie turned, tilting her head. "You'll have to teach me."

___ arched a brow. "Oh? And when exactly would I do that?"

Jennie leaned against the desk, grinning. "Whenever you sneak me into your room again."

___ exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You're trouble."

Jennie shrugged. "But the fun kind."

Their eyes met again, the energy between them shifting—less playful now, more charged.

Jennie pushed off the desk, her gaze drifting over to a shelf near the bed. A collection of medals hung from hooks, and framed photos of a younger ___ in track and field uniforms were displayed beside them.

She stepped closer, reaching out to trace the edge of one of the medals. "Track star, huh?"

___ smiled, moving to stand beside her. "College days. Feels like another life now."

Jennie turned to look at her. "You don't miss it?"

"I do. But..." ___ trailed off, shrugging. "Sometimes life takes you in a different direction than you expected."

Jennie hummed, her fingers still lightly touching the medal. "I get that."

Silence stretched between them, comfortable but heavy with something else.

Slowly, Jennie turned fully toward ___, her eyes searching hers.

And then—

She made her move.

Jennie stepped closer, her fingers trailing up ___'s arm, leaving a line of warmth in their wake. Her other hand rested lightly against ___'s waist as she tilted her chin up, her lips just inches away.

___'s breath hitched.

For a second, she didn't move.

Didn't step back.

Didn't stop her.

Jennie's lips barely brushed hers—just the faintest ghost of contact—

But then, suddenly, ___ pulled back, exhaling sharply.

Jennie blinked, caught off guard. "What—"

___ gently grasped her wrists, lowering them. "We're both drunk," she murmured, her voice quieter now, more controlled. "I don't want to do this like this."

Jennie swallowed, trying to steady her racing heart. "But you want to?"

___ held her gaze for a long moment.

Then, quietly—softly—

"Yes."

Jennie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

___ gave her a small, almost regretful smile. "But not tonight."

Jennie nodded, stepping back. "Okay."

A beat of silence.

Then ___ chuckled, rubbing a hand over her face. "You really are trouble."

Jennie smirked, recovering quickly. "Told you."

___ shook her head, moving toward the door. "Come on. Let's get you back to your cabin before I change my mind."

Jennie followed, glancing at her one last time before they stepped out into the night.