we show off our different scarlet letters
Flora glances briefly past Kaisel ’s shoulder, catching sight of Calypso still lounging decadently against the bar, shimmering beneath the low lights, looking like the kind of trouble people write songs about. Around her, a cluster of admirers—men and women alike—are eyeing her like she's the last shot of whiskey at the end of a very long night.
Flora’s heart gives a quick, sharp twist, something tight and complicated pressing just beneath her ribs. But the rules are the rules, and Flora is nothing if not fiercely committed to her own goddamn promises—even if it means swallowing back the ache, even if it means ignoring the way Kaisel’s smile makes something flutter traitorously inside her chest because what a fucking stupidly good guy he is.
So instead of taking his hand, she reaches out and smacks it lightly, turning the gesture into a playful high-five that lands with a cheerful clap. "I'll always be here, Assborn," she calls into his ear, voice pitched to carry over the pulse of the music, sharp and sassy, hiding the tender bruise she won't admit to feeling. "But she might not be. Go get the girl, dummy."
Her smile is dazzling, even if the words feel like sandpaper against the back of her throat, and she punctuates them by giving his shoulder a little shove toward Caly, like it’s a command he absolutely can't disobey. Then, without letting herself watch him leave, Flora spins back toTheea, looping their arms together and pulling her cousin deeper into the heat and press of bodies.
She spins Theea again, her laughter rising louder than the bass that vibrates through the floor, desperately grateful for the warmth of her cousin’s hand in hers, for the easy, uncomplicated joy in her smile—because maybe tonight belongs to everyone else, but Flora will fight tooth and nail to carve out this one little space, this one glittering moment, that belongs entirely to them.
Flora’s heart gives a quick, sharp twist, something tight and complicated pressing just beneath her ribs. But the rules are the rules, and Flora is nothing if not fiercely committed to her own goddamn promises—even if it means swallowing back the ache, even if it means ignoring the way Kaisel’s smile makes something flutter traitorously inside her chest because what a fucking stupidly good guy he is.
So instead of taking his hand, she reaches out and smacks it lightly, turning the gesture into a playful high-five that lands with a cheerful clap. "I'll always be here, Assborn," she calls into his ear, voice pitched to carry over the pulse of the music, sharp and sassy, hiding the tender bruise she won't admit to feeling. "But she might not be. Go get the girl, dummy."
Her smile is dazzling, even if the words feel like sandpaper against the back of her throat, and she punctuates them by giving his shoulder a little shove toward Caly, like it’s a command he absolutely can't disobey. Then, without letting herself watch him leave, Flora spins back to
She spins Theea again, her laughter rising louder than the bass that vibrates through the floor, desperately grateful for the warmth of her cousin’s hand in hers, for the easy, uncomplicated joy in her smile—because maybe tonight belongs to everyone else, but Flora will fight tooth and nail to carve out this one little space, this one glittering moment, that belongs entirely to them.
