"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," Suzette exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and tough love as she yanked the duvet away from my curled-up form.
My eyes narrowed at her intrusion, a flicker of irritation cutting through my haze of self-pity. I set the half-empty tub of chocolate fudge ice cream down on the nightstand with a reluctant thud, the spoon clinking against the side, and turned to face her fully. "What is it this time?" I groaned, already mourning the interruption to my one true solace—ice cream, the magical cure for my spiraling minor depression.
"Don't tell me you intend to spend the rest of the day eating ice cream and watching... What are you watching anyway?" Suzette's gaze drifted to the laptop screen glowing in front of me, the eerie soundtrack of the movie pausing mid-scream. She scoffed, tearing her eyes away with a dramatic eye-roll. "The Conjurer? Really?"
"You know I like horror movies," I murmured, my voice small and sad, lips pursing into a pout that I couldn't quite suppress.
Suzette's sharp expression softened instantly at the sight of my pout, the annoyance melting away like ice cream on a summer day. Concern flooded her eyes, warm and unconditional, as she kicked off her slippers and climbed onto the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under her weight. She took a moment to really look at me—my brown hair scraped into a haphazard messy bun that was starting to unravel, oversized black pajamas swallowing my petite frame, and smudges of melted ice cream betraying me on my lips and the tip of my nose. God, I must have looked like the poster child for heartbreak and pity parties.
She reached out, her hand finding mine in a gentle squeeze, her smile sad but steady. "What's going on, baby?" she asked softly, her thumb tracing soothing circles on my skin, ready to listen to whatever storm I was weathering this time.
I sighed heavily, my gaze drifting back to the laptop screen where the paused horror movie flickered mockingly, its frozen scream a pale echo of my own frustrations. "I got rejected, again," I admitted, the words tasting like defeat as I thought of the latest email from that secretary position I'd pinned my hopes on. "...They said something about my level of education not meeting the requirements." I paused, fiddling with the edge of the duvet, the fabric bunching under my fingers. "You know, I actually thought that after the wedding, I would get closure and be able to finally find the strength I need to get back on track. But all I've gotten since then are rejection emails and Zion—" I cut myself off abruptly, heat flooding my cheeks as I glanced at Suzette, realizing too late that I'd let his name slip into the conversation like an uninvited ghost.
"Him? Baby, did you just say Zion?" Suzette's eyes lit up with mischief, a knowing smirk curling her lips as she propped herself up on one elbow, clearly relishing the shift in topic.
I didn't answer, my blush deepening as I avoided her gaze, suddenly fascinated by a nonexistent lint speck on my pajama pants.
"Now, I don't suppose you're talking about that handsome stranger with the Oregon accent from Navira's wedding day..." she prodded, her voice dripping with playful accusation.
I met her eyes then, defeated. "Who else?"
Suzette couldn't contain it—the laughter bubbled up from her chest like champagne, rich and unrestrained, shaking the bed as she clutched her sides. "Baby, are you serious?! He definitely did a number on you, huh? You're telling me that he banged that pussy so good he's been in your head for two days?!"
Flustered beyond words, my face burning hotter than a summer sidewalk, I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her face with all the force my weakened resolve could muster. "Stop it!" I yelped, half-laughing despite myself, the sound muffled by embarrassment.
"What?!" she shot back, catching the pillow and flinging it aside with a grin that stretched ear to ear. "Should I tell this to Carter?" She waggled her eyebrows, her laughter turning into delighted cackles at my horrified expression.
I stared at her, wide-eyed and pleading, my heart skipping a beat at the mere thought. "Please don't! You know how he gets—being an overly protective brother when it comes to me. Please, keep this a secret for now." The last thing I needed was Carter storming in like a one-man cavalry, interrogating me about some mystery guy from a wedding hookup. He'd probably insist on tracking the man down himself, and that was a complication I wasn't ready for.
Suzette's laughter tapered off into a fond sigh, her expression softening as she pulled me into a side hug, the warmth of her arm chasing away some of the chill in my chest. "I suppose you're right," she conceded, squeezing me gently. "Your big bro doesn't need to play knight in shining armor just yet. But seriously, spill—do you regret it, or is this 'him' worth the brain space?"
I nodded sadly, the weight of my regrets pressing down like an invisible fog, making my chest ache. "Honestly, Zette, what would have happened if he was single and if I stayed longer, you know? What if I didn't run out like that? Would we have had breakfast together? Talked about ourselves to each other?" The words tumbled out in a rush, my voice cracking as I poured my heart onto the rumpled sheets between us. "I know it's crazy, 'cause I just had my heart shattered and my trust and love taken advantage of. But I can't just stop thinking about him. He's been on my mind, and I'm really wishing I didn't run the way I did." Saying it aloud made it feel even more real, more foolish—like I'd left a piece of myself tangled in those hotel sheets.
Suzette's eyes softened, empathy etching lines of understanding across her face. She got it, the raw tangle of pain and longing, but true to form, she couldn't resist lightening the load with her signature wit. "Yep," she said, her lips twitching. "He certainly banged that pussy so good."
"I'm serious!" I shot back, a reluctant chuckle bubbling up despite the heat creeping into my cheeks, breaking the tension just enough to breathe.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she said, dissolving into her own laughter, the sound warm and infectious as she wiped at her eyes. It was her way—deflecting the hurt with humor, even when we both knew the wound ran deeper.
Her giggles faded, and she sobered, tilting her head with genuine curiosity. "If you find him that attractive, why did you run?"
I shook my head, the sadness settling back in like a heavy blanket. "He's already engaged to someone else. I saw a ring on his finger."
Suzette's eyes widened in shock, her mouth dropping open before she exploded into action, swatting my back repeatedly like I was a naughty kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. "He what?!" she yelped, her slaps light but insistent. "He had someone and you still fucked with him?!"
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" I yelped, scrambling off the bed in a flurry of pajamas and tangled hair, darting away from her assault as laughter mixed with my protests. "I just noticed it when I woke up by his side!"
She leaped up too, chasing me around the edge of the bed with mock ferocity, her arms outstretched. "Come here! I'm not yet done with you! You wasted your virginity on a guy like him?! If I had known he was engaged, then I wouldn't have let you go with him that night!"
I whined, dodging behind the armchair in the corner of the room, my heart pounding from the chase more than the hits. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just wanted to vent my emotions that night—that's why we had a one-night stand together! Please stop hitting me!"
Suzette finally halted, breathing a little harder, her expression shifting from outrage to tenderness as she closed the distance between us. "My baby girl..." she murmured, pulling me into a tight hug, her hand patting my back in soothing rhythms. "Is that the reason why you left him so quickly?"
"Yes," I whispered into her shoulder, the fight draining out of me, "but I still can't help thinking of him..."
She held me closer, her voice a gentle murmur against my hair. "Awww, I know you can get over him. And besides, there are plenty of dicks in the sea, right?"
"Zette!" I pulled back, swatting her arm lightly, exasperation bubbling up even as a smile tugged at my lips. We were having a serious moment, and she just had to crack a joke—classic Suzette, turning my meltdown into something survivable.
She laughed again, the sound bright and unfiltered, but our bubble of sisterly chaos burst abruptly with the shrill ring of my phone from the nightstand, cutting through the air like an unwelcome alarm. I froze, glancing toward it.