It's two days after, when Layla and I are on our way back home with bags full of groceries swinging off our hands, that I finally ask her, "Are you and Sean okay?"

I frame it like that so she knows she has the choice in how much she wants to give away, and she nods, looking up at me with a smile that almost looks apologetic. "We didn't... fight or anything." She tips her head forward and stares at the street for a few seconds, chewing on her bottom lip before she adds, "I'm sorry. It must have been awkward for you guys. Seeing us like that."

Shaking my head, I shift the grocery bag held in my left hand to my right, and reach out to wrap an arm around hers and click my tongue. "We were just worried."

The sound of our shoes meeting the asphalt is the only noise in the quiet street for a while, until she lets out this breathless, empty-sounding chuckle that doesn't sound like her at all and shakes her head. Voice smaller than I've ever heard from her, she murmurs, "God, Imani, I acted like such a brat." When I look at her, her lips are turned down, eyebrows drawn together in a way that makes her face look pinched with frustration. "You know how Sean always wakes up super early?"

I nod.

"The reason why you, Ved and Juni never see the guys I bring home at night again is because I kick them out long before any of you wake up." She sounds detached. I nod again. I know that, of course. All of us do. And we collectively agree that it's always been better than the idea of awkwardly sitting at breakfast with them. "There are times when it isn't that simple, you know? Sometimes they're stubborn about leaving and..." She shrugs, but the action is weak. I don't say anything. "Sean has always been around to take care of that. They have to leave even if they don't want to."

It's not hard to see how it goes down inside my head. Sean doesn't look half as intimidating as he can actually be—and really, he looks pretty damn intimidating—and the image of him towering over the guys that give Layla a hard time makes me shudder. I don't like being reminded of how panicky I had been around him when we'd first met. The memory of me looking like a scared animal every time we were in the same room makes me wince.

"This time he had to see... the exact opposite." The words leave her mouth like they hurt, and I watch her, waiting patiently as she stares into the distance. Even though her words don't make complete sense, I wait. Because until I know what happened, patience is all I have in store for her. If I can't give her that, then what is the meaning of us being friends for so long, anyway? "This guy I met at the club—" she cuts herself off, closing her eyes for a second and sighing before opening them. "River. His name is River." Her voice has gotten quieter again, so I rub my hand up and down her arm in encouragement. "When I met him, the plan was the same as always." She looks at me with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "But—But there was something... different about him." Her words come out faster, breath leaving her in a rush. "I don't know, Imani, but I just... I forgot, you know? I forgot that I make it very clear to the guys I sleep with that they're supposed to leave first thing in the morning. But with him, I think I-I wanted him to...stay." The last word leaves her like a sigh of defeat, and my chest aches.

"We talked so much," she murmurs, and for a second I think I hear the hint of fondness in her tone, and sure enough, when I look at her, there's a tiny smile on her face. "I think I was laughing almost the entire time we were together." Her eyes are still downcast, so I can't pinpoint the level of honesty in the faint quirk of her lips. "When I woke up he was gone."

Although her eyes aren't watery, her voice is, and for a few seconds I'm stunned into silence. Through the years I've known Layla, there hasn't been one moment where her eyes didn't reflect the fire she holds inside her. The word 'confident' doesn't even begin to describe the type of person she is. With a tongue that's just as sharp as her features, Layla is a matchstick ready to make everything around her go up in flames.

Hell, Layla had left her parents, the money they always held over her head in exchange for her 'docility', and the roof they put on top of her head all because she knew in her heart that she would never want to live the kind of life they wanted for her.

Except right now, her eyes and words are both quiet. Exhausted. Extinguished.

"I think it showed on my face when I came out of my room." She speaks in a hushed voice, like this is something she doesn't want to talk about. Like something she shouldn't be saying out loud. If the street around us wasn't empty, I wouldn't even have heard her. "I was looking for him. I didn't even realize that at first, actually. And Sean was... there." When her expression cracks, my heart does too. "I was looking for him around the house like such a fucking lunatic that I didn't even notice Sean was watching me." It doesn't go past me that she doesn't say River's name much, and I only ache more on her behalf. "He... Sean told me he saw him leave. It was so embarrassing." She looks at me with an expression of pure disbelief then. "At five, Imani, five in the fucking morning." With a shake of her head, she looks away again, muttering, "I guess I was bound to get a taste of my own medicine at some point," under her breath. "Karma and all that shit."

"Lay... having sex with no strings attached isn't a crime. You know that, right?"

"I know, but—" Her exhales sharply, looking around the street like she doesn't quite know where to let her eyes stay. "Some of these people were genuinely nice, you know? But I just—"

"You have rules."

She sighs. "Yeah."

"And that's okay."

"I... I don't know, Imani, I've been such a bitch. God, I've been so unnecessarily mean to some of these guys just because they wanted more and I... didn't."

"Did they back off once you told them you didn't want more? Nicely?"

She hesitates.

I wait.

"Well, maybe not at once—"

"Stop." I pull away from her arm and hold a hand up. "That's enough. If they don't take a step back at once when you want them to, you're always allowed to tell people to leave you the fuck alone. In those exact words, or not. Either way, you're fine."

She hangs her head. "I still could have been a bit nicer."

"I think making it clear that you aren't looking for more than a night before going further with someone is nice enough."

Another turn around the block, and we're only a few feet away from the house.

A noise that sounds like a strangled laugh is what leaves her throat as soon as we push the gates open. "And look where that got me."

The corners of my lips turn down at the dejection in her voice. I keep the bags of groceries on the ground and take hold of her arm, urging her to do the same. When she does, I take another step forward and pull her into a hug.

No one in the house has ever asked Layla why she's always been so iffy about relationships. It's always been apparent in her words, her actions, and her unwillingness to bring the subject to light. It's clearly something she's highly sensitive about, so the rest of us have had a silent agreement between us to never push her to talk about it since the beginning.

I'm half a foot shorter than she is, so she puts her chin on my shoulder. When her hand touches my back and she bunches my shirt between her fingers, I hold her tighter.

"It was no one's fault," I whisper, and only a second after she releases a shaky breath as if she had been holding it until someone told her this out loud.

The words 'I'll still beat his ass, though' are on the tip of my tongue when the door clicks open, probably because someone had heard us open the gates.

A knackered-looking Sean steps out, hair mussed up as if he'd been distressfully running his fingers through it for hours, the tie around his white, crumpled collar hanging loose. His tired eyes flash with concern when they fall on us.

Layla pulls away from me to look at him, and it's barely a millisecond after he raises his hand in her direction that she goes running into his arms and squeaks a muffled "I'm sorry" into his chest.

Sean might be built like a mountain, but I know from experience that he hugs like a cloud.

His gestures of affection are rare, but it's always times like this that I realize just how crucial of a role he plays in keeping all of us together.

I watch him wrap his arms around Layla, chin pressing on top of her head. "I was never mad at you," he tells her, but she only apologizes again. When he tells her to stop, his voice is gruff, his eyes kind. Very on-brand of Sean, really.

Figuring that I'd just give them a moment after they've been skirting around each other for the past three days like they live in a minefield, I turn around to close the gates. I'm halfway through it when I spot something familiar.

It's a dog.

A golden retriever, in specific.

The same dog I had seen that day with...

I blink in surprise, clearly taken aback. Then I open the gates again and poke my head out, but there's no sign of another human on the street. Inside my head, I see tumbleweed roll past the pole at the end of the block.

Blinking again, I look back at the dog who is now looking back at me with its ears pulled back like it's pleading me for something, so I hesitantly hold a hand out. When the big, golden dog only looks more scared, I crouch on impulse, hoping that it would make me look less intimidating.

I can't help the smile that reaches my lips when it walks over to me.

"Hi, baby," I say softly, slowly reaching out to first touch its head with the tips of my fingers, then my entire hand once I know the gesture isn't alarming the already scared animal. "What's your name, hm?"

The dog whines, and then its big, shining eyes look behind me. I look around to see Sean and Layla making their way over.

"What—Whose dog is that?" Layla asks, while Sean looks down at us with a frown.

I look around the street again. "I'm... not sure." Because I've (half) seen the owner a total of one time. I look back down at the giant ball of fur now sitting with its head bowed a little as I scratch behind its ears. My eyes take notice of the tag hanging from its collar, so I take a look at it. "Bowie," I echo the name, and the dog wags its tail.

Layla crouches down beside me, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff, voice already sounding like she's talking to a child when she asks, "Did you run away, sweetheart?"

Sean advises that I turn the tag around. So I do.

And there's a phone number on it.

With an address.

a/n: i'm trying not to stretch the chapters very far and just stay consistent for now! we're 6.5k words in :D

thank you so much for being here <3 i would love to hear what you guys think about the story so far 🥺💛

have a good day/evening, and tell me about your day if you want! hope you're all taking care of yourselves x