Heather
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The bathroom excuse is thin, but it’s all I can think of. The room is stifling, the weight of Javis’ arm around my waist unbearable.

My face hurts from all the forced smiles, and my feet are begging for mercy in these heels.

I mumble something about needing to freshen up, and Javis lets me go, distracted by his cousins clinking glasses and telling another long-winded story about their glory days.

I weave through the crowd, keeping my head down, avoiding eye contact.

But it isn’t the bathroom I’m heading for—it’s Robin.

She left in such a hurry, and I’ve been trying not to look at the empty chair ever since.

But the ache in my chest has grown unbearable. I don’t know what I’m going to say, or if she’ll even listen, but I can’t leave it like this.

Not after what just happened.

Not after the look in her eyes when Javis slid that ring onto my finger.

I push open the side door and step into the cool night air. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I see her.

She’s leaning against the building, one foot propped against the wall, a cigarette between her fingers. The sight is so unlike her that I stop in my tracks.

Robin smokes?

Crazy thought at the moment but what else do I have?

Her head turns slightly, catching my movement, and she exhales a thin stream of smoke before lowering the cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” I say, my voice breaking the silence.

Robin’s lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile but should be one.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

The words sting more than they should because I know this is more than just words.

I take a careful step closer, my heels clicking against the pavement.

“Robin, I—”

“What do you want, Heather?” she interrupts before I can continue. Her tone is sharp enough to cut through glass.

My breath catches. “I wanted to talk. To explain.”

“Explain what?” Robin flicks the ash off the cigarette. The movement's casual, but her eyes are blazing. “How you somehow forgot to mention that you’re engaged to my brother? Or how you lied about it when I asked?”

I wince, the harshness in her words hard to ignore. “I didn’t know—”

“Bullshit,” she snaps, straightening up, towering over me. “You didn’t know? That’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t!” I say, my voice rising. “How could I have known? You didn’t exactly tell me you were Javis’ sister, either!”

Robin lets out a harsh laugh, tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her heel.

“Right, because I was supposed to introduce myself by saying, ‘Hi, I’m Robin, and oh, by the way, my brother’s fiancée is probably the biggest liar I’ve ever met.’”

“That’s not fair,” I say, stepping closer, but she takes a step back as if she can't handle me being that close.

“Fair?” Her voice is venomous. “You want to talk about fair? You slept with me, Heather. Twice. And then you had the audacity to sit across from me at dinner tonight, all smiles and doe eyes, like nothing happened. Like I don’t even exist.”

“That’s not true!” I say, my throat tightening. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you—”

“Congratulations,” she cuts in. “You managed to do it anyway.”

I’m shaking now, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

“Robin, please. Just listen to me. It’s not what you think—”

“It’s exactly what I think,” she says, her voice low and cold. “You’re just like everyone else in my family. You lie, you manipulate, and you think you can get away with it because you smile pretty.”

The accusation hits harder than I expected.

“That’s not who I am.” My voice trembles.

“Then who are you, Heather?” she fires back. “Because the woman I thought I knew wouldn’t have done this.”

Whatever she is saying is cutting me open, leaving me exposed. My heart is racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. I feel trapped, desperate to fix this, to make her understand that none of this was my idea.

“Robin, please,” I whisper. “I need you to calm down so I can explain—”

“Calm down?” She laughs bitterly. “You don’t get to tell me to calm down!”

The argument is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know how to stop it.

My head is spinning, my chest is tight with frustration and guilt. Robin’s anger is a storm, relentless and all-consuming, and I feel myself drowning in it.

I don’t even realize what I’m doing until my hand connects with her cheek.

The sound of the slap is deafening in the quiet night, and for a moment, everything freezes.

Robin’s head snaps to the side, her hand flying to her face.

My own hand is still raised, trembling, my palm stinging from the impact.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Robin, I—”

But before I can finish, she turns back to me, her eyes wide with shock and something dangerous.

And then, without thinking, without planning, I grab her face and kiss her.

Mixed signals much!

It’s not gentle or sweet. It’s desperate and messy, fueled by anger and heartbreak and everything we can’t put into words.

For a second, she doesn’t move, and I think I’ve made a horrible mistake.

But then her hands are on me, gripping my arms, pulling me closer.

The kiss deepens, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the world falls away.

It’s just us—two broken, furious people trying to hold onto something that feels like chaos.

But there's footsteps coming our way and we break apart immediately, breathing heavily.

Robin’s eyes flicker to the side, and I follow her gaze as a woman walks by, completely oblivious to what she’s just interrupted.

When the coast is clear, Robin steps back, her expression hardening.

“That,” she says, her voice cold, “is the last time you ever put your lying lips on me.”

Her words are like a punch to the gut, and before I can respond, she turns and storms back inside, leaving me standing there like a fucking statue.

I know I messed up, I know I fucked up and she will never forgive me for this. Still, I want to grab her hand and run away into the unknown with her.