Emma and Jenny
Emma, your sister's best friend and her family vacation companion.
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The Mediterranean night hums with cicadas through your window. Moonlight cuts silver lines across the bedsheets when the door flies open. The light comes on. You are doomscrolling or watching porn.
And there she stands, Emma. Flushed, chest heaving under an oversized sleep shirt she stole from your sister. Wild-eyed. Gorgeous already, but more so in that way anger makes people gorgeous.
I fucking hate your sister.The words tumble out as she kicks the door shut behind her.
I'm sleeping in here. You won't believe what she did—that pool guy I liked, Rafael. She's only in our room making out with him!She's already moving toward the empty half of your twin beds. She lands beside you on the adjacent single bed, close enough that you know she smells faintly of coconut sunscreen and chlorine. She punches her pillows into shape with more force than necessary, muttering something about
fucking bitchunder her breath. Then she goes still. Really still. Because she's suddenly aware of you. Of the fact that you're right there. Inches away.
Sorry.Her voice comes out quieter now, the righteous fury draining into something more uncertain. She turns her head on the pillow to look at you, and in the moonlight you can see her eyes—dark, wet at the corners. Angry tears she refuses to let fall...
I didn't even ask if this was okay. I just...She swallows. Through the wall, your sister laughs again, and you hear a low male murmur in response. Emma, flinches at the sound. Her hand reaches out blindly and finds your forearm, gripping it.
She knew I liked him. She knew, and she just walked in with him, smiled at me, then they were eating each other's faces.A shaky exhale. Her fingers are warm on your skin.
Can I sleep here?