Ann sat at her vanity, brushing her hair out of habit more than anything else. The mirror reflected the soft curve of her neck, the slight flush still clinging to her cheeks. She wasn't thinking about her outfit. Or the pop quiz in English. Or even the modeling audition she had coming up.
She was thinking about Ren.
About his breath on her skin. The way he'd looked at her—not just with hunger, but with something deeper. Something she wasn't ready to name.
What did we do last night?
No—she knew. Every second replayed in her mind, vivid and warm and dizzying. It wasn't just the heat of his hands or the way her body had responded—it was the fact that she'd wanted it. Craved it.
That she hadn't stopped it.
That she still didn't want to.
Ann set down her brush. Her fingers trembled slightly.
They hadn't talked about it afterward. He had walked her to the train, quiet, his fingers grazing hers as they said goodnight. No words. Just that lingering look, as if to say we both know this changes things.
And it did.
Every time she glanced at him in class, her chest tightened. Her thoughts spun. She'd never felt so... aware. Of him. Of herself. Of how easy it had been to give in.
And how much she wanted to again.
She chewed her lip and glanced at her phone. No messages. Part of her was relieved. The other part wanted to see his name light up her screen.
But then there was Makoto.
Smart, composed Makoto who always sat closest to him in meetings, who Ren always seemed to listen to just a little more carefully. Ann had noticed the way she looked at him—guarded, curious, maybe even longing.
Had Makoto noticed anything last night?
If she finds out… what then?
Ann didn't want to break the group. She didn't want awkwardness. But more than anything—she didn't want to give up the way Ren made her feel.
Powerful. Desired. Real.
She pressed her palms to her cheeks and exhaled slowly.
"This is bad," she muttered. "This is really, really bad…"
And yet…
She couldn't stop smiling.