Sam woke with a hammering in her skull, each pulse a drumbeat against her temples. The room swam in a haze of soft morning light, too bright, too unforgiving. Her mouth tasted like rust and regret; the tang of alcohol clung stubbornly to her tongue. She groaned, pressing her palms to her forehead, trying to massage away the throbbing.
Then her gaze shifted.
And froze.
Alexandra.
Her chest tightened. Alexandra was lying beside her, the blankets tossed haphazardly over her body, bare skin catching the weak morning light. Sam's stomach pitched. Why was Alexandra in the bed? Naked? Heat rushed to her face, mingling with guilt, panic, and something she couldn't quite name.
Sam slowly, almost painfully, lifted the blanket and glanced at herself. Naked. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Oh God. Oh no. This can't be happening.
"What the hell did you do, Samantha?" she whispered, barely audible.
Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears, trembling with a mixture of shock and fear.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear before Alexandra woke and everything unraveled.
She moved carefully, deliberately, as if the floorboards might betray her.
Her skin prickled at the ghost of Alexandra's warmth, at the memory of her lips, soft and demanding. Sam could feel her pulse in her fingers, in the tips of her ears, racing uncontrollably.
The shower was cold, shocking her system awake, washing away sweat and alcohol but not the memory of Alexandra's body, the way her hand had lingered, the way their breaths had mingled. Even the water couldn't rinse away the panic coiling in her stomach.
Dressed and packed, Sam tiptoed downstairs, careful not to make a sound. But there, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, was Vienne.
"Leaving already?" Vienne asked, eyes sharp.
"Yeah... emergency meeting," Sam lied, voice tight, fragile.
"And Alexandra?" Vienne pressed.
Sam's throat went dry. "Uh... can you do me a favor? Drop her home? I don't want to wake her. I'm... really in a rush."
Vienne hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
"Thank you," Sam murmured and fled. The door slammed softly behind her, and she bolted to her car, hands trembling as she gripped the wheel.
The silence in the car was deafening. Memories clawed at her—Alexandra's soft lips on hers, her body pressed against Sam's, the tentative touches that had become urgent, insistent, impossible to ignore. Sam's chest felt tight, like her ribcage was shrinking around her heart.
This was supposed to be fake. The words burned in her mind. A contract. A simple pretense. But what the hell did I do?
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, white-knuckled. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered laugh replayed in excruciating detail. Her stomach twisted with panic and longing, nausea battling desire. How am I supposed to face her? How am I supposed to act normal?
A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips. "Ahhhh!" Her voice was swallowed by the car, by the empty road, by the chaos in her mind. She started the engine, tires squealing slightly as she peeled away, the city blurring past, but inside her head, everything was painfully, unbearably clear.
Sam thought of the contract again, of all the carefully laid plans, and then Alexandra's gaze, her laugh, the way she had pressed against Sam in the dark. Falling for her... this isn't supposed to happen. But I did. I can't undo it now.
The road stretched ahead of her, but Sam's thoughts were trapped in a loop of desire, fear, and regret. Every heartbeat was a reminder: the night had changed everything.
-
Alexandra stirred awake to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. Her body felt pleasantly heavy, wrapped in warmth and the lingering haze of alcohol. Then the realization hit—Sam wasn't there.
Her eyes flicked around the room, and her heart skipped. The blankets were tossed, the pillows slightly askew, and... she was naked. Alexandra paused for a beat, letting the memory of last night wash over her.
The dares, the laughter, the teasing touches—they all came rushing back. Sam's lips on hers, the warmth of her body pressed against hers, the way her hands had lingered just long enough to make her pulse stutter. A small, private smile tugged at Alexandra's lips.
"God... we're ridiculous," she murmured to herself, still grinning, shaking her head in disbelief. The room smelled faintly of alcohol and lingering perfume; it was intimate and soft, a private echo of the night.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from the fun chaos of last night. Alexandra showered quickly, the hot water waking her fully, her mind replaying snippets of laughter, kisses, and whispered jokes that now made her heart flutter all over again.
Dressed and ready, she padded into the living room, hair still damp and clothes slightly wrinkled, a playful air lingering in her movements.
"Morning," Alexandra called lightly, stretching as she stepped into the living room.
"Morning!" a few of the others replied cheerfully, still sipping coffee and nursing the remnants of last night's hangover. No one batted an eye; it was just another chaotic bachelorette aftermath.
"Where's Sam?" Alexandra asked, keeping her tone casual.
"She already left," one of them said with a smile. "Emergency meeting or something."
Alexandra's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. Of course she did. She didn't push; she knew Sam well enough to give her space.
Vienne appeared just then, carrying a travel mug. "Hey, Alex. You ready to go?"
Alexandra nodded. "Yeah... can you drop me off?"
Vienne tilted her head slightly, playful but professional. "Sam asked me to. She's really in a rush, so I'm the official chauffeur this morning."
Alexandra laughed softly. "Got it. Thanks, Vienne."
Vienne grinned. "No problem. Let's get you moving before traffic catches us."
Alexandra lingered for a heartbeat, savoring the quiet morning. The memory of last night—the teasing, the chaos, the electricity—still danced in her mind. Her smile deepened as she remembered how close they had been, the warmth and intimacy that had left them tangled together on the bed. That night wasn't over, not by a long shot.