Clarke
I woke up sore, warm, and alone.
I hadn’t asked Avalon to stay beside me, but after the night we’d had — after everything we’d said and done — a small, foolish part of me expected to find her sprawled across my chest, breathing softly into my shoulder.
Deep down, I wanted that. But I knew better.
What we’d done was already a mistake, one we couldn’t undo. Crossing that line meant there was no going back, and if we’d both been willing to cross it… surely that meant something?
Apparently not. Not if I was waking up alone again.
I pulled the duvet over my knees and yawned, stretching the stiffness from my limbs. My phone lay several feet away on the floor — of course it did. I didn’t want to get up, but curiosity tugged at me. Maybe Avalon had texted. Maybe she’d said something. Anything.
But she hadn’t the last time. Why would she start now?
I flopped back into my pillows, only to be interrupted by the unmistakable smell of burning bacon. My stomach growled.
I never cooked in the kitchenette — I always ate in the Farm House with my parents — so who on earth was—
A crash. Glass shattering. Then a string of curse words in a dramatic Valley Girl accent.
I stifled a laugh, threw off the covers, and searched for my discarded shorts. Once I found them, I slipped into my rabbit-shaped slippers and padded out into the kitchen.
Avalon was dancing around a broken plate on the floor, trying to salvage what looked like scrambled eggs, toast, and the burnt bacon I’d smelled.
Sliding onto a barstool, I rested my chin in my palm and watched her with quiet amusement.
“I think that plate is trashed, Avalon,” I said, laughter muffled behind my hand.
She nearly jumped onto the counter. “Jesus fuck, Clarke!” She spun around, pale as linen, hand over her heart. “You need to learn it’s not okay to sneak up on people and scare the ever-loving shit out of them!”
“Ever-loving?” I teased. “Have we turned you into a cowgirl already?”
She grinned proudly. “I learned that one from Melly.”
I blinked. Melly. My sister. My Mells. A strange twinge of jealousy flickered through me — Avalon had given Melody a nickname, and she insisted on calling me Texas. Why did that bother me?
“What are you doing?” I asked, shoving aside my thoughts.
Avalon shrugged, looking down. “I was trying to make you breakfast and surprise you with it in bed, but as you can see, I have no coordination or cooking skills whatsoever.”
I chuckled, rising from my seat. Three more strips of bacon sizzled unattended in the pan. I grabbed the tongs, removed them, and set them on a paper-towel-lined plate.
She watched me with wide eyes as I reached into the cupboard for hot sauce. I doused the bacon, broke off a piece, and popped it into my mouth.
A soft moan escaped me. “Not all is lost,” I murmured. “I’m actually surprised you’re still here. And attempting to cook in my kitchen.”
I leaned back against the counter, arms folded. “I half expected you to be in your room or on a flight somewhere.”
Avalon mirrored my posture, leaning against the bar. “And the other half?”
I dropped my gaze. “I had hoped…” But I stopped myself. There was no point in saying it. Speaking it aloud wouldn’t change anything.
Avalon chewed her lip, crossing one leg over the other. She looked deep in thought — and I wanted to know what she was thinking. I wanted her to say something first.
“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly. “What happened last night? Because I know I didn’t. Sure, it complicates things, but things have always been complicated between us, Clarke.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No, I don’t regret it. But we can’t go back. We can’t undo it.”
She scoffed. “So nothing’s changed? We’re just going to pretend it never happened? Pretend we weren’t screaming each other’s names last night?”
Her gray eyes locked onto mine, cool and sharp.
“Can you do that? Pretend I didn’t have you coming apart on my fingers and in my mouth? Is that what you want, Clarke?”
No. God, no.
“Avalon, stop.”
“Stop what? I’m just remembering the events of last night. Unlike you, I don’t want to go back to pretending I don’t want to fuck you every night and wake up and try to cook shitty breakfast foods for you.”
“Why can’t you just listen!” I snapped, dragging my fingers through my tangled hair. I needed a shower. I needed to get ready for Founder’s Day. I needed to be doing anything but this.
But there was no escaping it. I had dug this hole. Now I had to face the aftermath.
“When I woke up and you weren’t there, everything from four months ago came rushing back,” I said, grounding myself against the bar. “But I wasn’t surprised.”
Avalon’s face fell.
“I think I’m still hurt from the last time we did this—”
“So, you do regret it,” she cut in, voice flat. Her posture shifted — no longer relaxed but coiled tight.
I chose my next words carefully. “I want to believe you’ve changed, Avalon. Really, I do. But I… can’t.”
“You mean you won’t,” she muttered, turning away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, chewing on the corner of my lip as silence stretched between us— heavy, awkward, fragile.
Finally, Avalon spoke. “I kind of thought—hoped— this would get us one step closer to writing that album.” Her voice softened. “So, we could part for good and you wouldn’t have to be subjected to my presence anymore.”
I groaned, pressing my palms to my eyes. She was getting this all wrong. How could I possibly say this in a way that would actually get through to her? “I don’t want you to leave, Avalon. That’s not what I’m saying—”
“Then what are you saying?” she asked, confusion etched into every line of her face. “Because I’m pretty fucking confused right now.”
She looked at me like she wanted to peel me open and finally see what was inside. And maybe she deserved that. But I’d spent years building walls — walls she was dangerously close to breaking.
“I just need time,” I said. “I need proof that you’ve changed—”
“But I have, Clarke!”
“Would you please let me finish?” We were both shouting now. “I need you to stop interrupting me. Please.”
Avalon raised her hands. “Fine. Go ahead. Tell me all the things you need.”
“What I need?” I scoffed. “Let’s not forget you were the one who hurt me, Avalon.”
“And did I not make it up to you last night?” Her voice was loud and laced with desperation, the tips of her brows dipping together as frustration raced through her. “Was that not enough, Clarke?”
I laughed once—sharp and humorless. “It’s going to take more than an orgasm to fix what happened four months ago, let’s be serious.”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“I think we need to think clearly about this,” I said, lowering my voice an octave, trying to establish a sense of balance between us.
“Last night was fun—great, actually—but I don’t think it can happen again.
” My tongue felt heavy inside my mouth, like it had been carved of stone and weighed a thousand pounds.
Avalon nodded, defeat settling into her features. Her brows returned to their relaxed state and her hands loosely clasped each other in front of her stomach.
“It was a boundary that we never should have crossed—“
“So, you do think it was a mistake.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to lie. But I couldn’t give her false hope either.
“Don’t you?” I whispered.
“Clarke,” she said softly, “you don’t really want my answer.”
She pushed away from the counter and walked toward her room. At the doorway, she paused.
“I’m not going to stop trying, you know.” She looked back at me, a tiny hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “You should know by now— I don’t give up that easily.”
I forced a half-smile. “I don’t expect you to.”