In The Between

✧･Chapter 5 Youve Always Had Me

"I'm telling you, you don't have to walk me all the way to my room." I laughed, bumping my shoulder into Claire's as we stepped into the elevator, trying to keep it light, like everything else with her always seemed to be.

Claire just shook her head, reaching past me to press the button before turning back, one brow raised in that way she always did when she'd already decided something. "You're drunk, honey. I'm not letting you wander a hotel like this alone."

I exhaled through my nose, rolling my eyes as I looked at her. "I'm not drunk. If anything, I should be walking you to your room. You've had more than I did tonight."

She chuckled at that, leaning back against the wall like she didn't have a care in the world, arms crossing loosely over her chest as she looked at me.

There was something about the way she held eye contact that was steady and unbothered, that made it feel like she was always just a little more in control of the moment than everyone else.

It irritated me more than it should have, honestly.

"What?" I asked, too quick, too aware of the way she was looking at me.

Claire tilted her head slightly. "How do you know I've had more than you?"

I hesitated, just for a second, before shrugging, forcing a small grin. "I've been watching."

The second it left my mouth, I wished I could take it back, because it was true. And not in the casual way I meant it to sound and then something shifted in her expression, subtle but there, and she let out a quiet laugh. "Watching me, huh?"

My gaze flicked away, then back again, sharper now, like I needed to correct it before she looked too closely. "Shut up. Not like that."

But that wasn't entirely true either, and that was the problem. Because I had been watching her.

All night.

I didn't even remember when it started - just that at some point, without meaning to, my attention kept drifting back to her.

The way she moved through the room like she belonged there, like everything and everyone naturally adjusted around her.

The way she handled things without hesitation, stepping in, fixing problems, laughing it off like it was nothing.

People noticed her, of course they did, and I hated that I did too.

The more I tried not to, the worse it got.

Every glance turned into a second too long, every second into something that sat heavy in my chest afterward.

I started picking up on things I shouldn't have been paying attention to, like the way her laugh came easy and loud, head tipping back just slightly, hand reaching out like she needed to hold onto someone to share it.

The way her smile didn't feel practiced, didn't feel careful.

The way she looked in that dress-

I cut the thought off immediately, my jaw tightening.

The elevator hummed upward, the space suddenly feeling too small, too warm, like the air had shifted without warning.

"Damn," she murmured, pushing off the wall just slightly, "one could only hope."

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. "You're insane."

She only shrugged, like nothing really touched her, like everything was a joke she was in on.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, like she was steadying herself, and I shouldn't have taken that as an opportunity, but I did. My gaze dragged over her without permission, slower this time, more deliberate.

The emerald dress fit her in a way that felt unfair.

Like it was designed to draw attention, to make people look twice and I hated that it worked.

I hated that I was noticing. The low light caught along her cheekbones, sharp and defined, her lashes brushing softly against her skin as she blinked.

My attention dropped, then snapped back up like I'd been burned, to her neck.

My breath caught, and I swallowed hard, my pulse suddenly too loud in my ears.

This was wrong.

Not just inappropriate. Not just bad timing.

Wrong.

I shouldn't be looking at her like this. I shouldn't be thinking about her like this. I shouldn't be noticing the way the room feels different when she's too close, or the way something in me tightens every time she looks at me like that.

But I couldn't seem to stop and that scared me more than anything and I didn't look away. Not until she opened her eyes again and caught me. The moment stretched too long, thick and quiet, something unspoken settling between us that neither of us reached for, but neither of us ignored either.

It made my chest feel tight.

I cleared my throat quickly, forcing my gaze somewhere else, heat rushing up my neck as a soft, nervous laugh slipped out at the worst possible time, right as the elevator doors opened, breaking the moment before it could turn into something else entirely.

Claire stepped out first, like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just seen right through me, and turned back to gesture for me to go ahead.

"You're so dramatic," I said, brushing past her, my shoulder grazing hers again, but this time I noticed it. The contact. The way it lingered for half a second longer than it should have.

She fell into step beside me, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I've been told. Almost every single day, actually."

I huffed out a quiet laugh, but it didn't settle anything. If anything, it made the tension worse. Because that was the thing about Claire. Everything with her felt easy and effortless. Like nothing really mattered, like everything could be turned into a joke before it got too real.

And I didn't understand how she could do that or why I suddenly wanted her not to.

"Don't you ever get tired of it, though?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

She glanced at me, caught off guard. "Tired of what?"

"You know... being dramatic. Being funny all the time." My voice softened despite myself, my gaze drifting ahead down the hallway because I couldn't look at her when I said it. "I don't think I've ever seen you be serious."

She shrugged, like it didn't matter. "I like being dramatic. It suits me."

I slowed as we reached my door, pulling my purse up and digging through it, suddenly very aware of her standing there, of how close she was, of how much space she seemed to take up without even trying.

"Don't you ever want... I don't know," I started, my fingers fumbling more than they should have, "a real conversation?"

The question sat heavier than I meant it to, so did the silence that followed.

"I don't know," she said after a moment, and I could hear the shift. The way she slipped back into something lighter, safer. "Are you trying to tell me you want something serious with me?"

"Claire, shut up," I muttered quickly, not even looking at her this time.

Because I didn't trust what might show on my face if I did.

She laughed under her breath and stepped closer when I still hadn't found the key, and then her hand was there, brushing mine as she took the purse from me. The contact was brief, barely anything, but it sent something sharp up my arm anyway, like my body noticed before my brain could shut it down.

"Hey-"

"Because you're drunk, honey," she cut in easily, already finding the key. "I may have had more than you, but I can hold my liquor a lot better, apparently."

She swiped the card, the lock blinking green before she pushed the door open, holding it there as she nodded inside. "Come on. Go to bed."

I stepped past her, setting my purse down on the table, but I didn't go any farther, because something in me didn't want this to end.

And that - more than anything else - was the problem.

I turned back to face her, my chest still tight, my thoughts still louder than they should have been.

"Thank you, Claire," I said quietly.

Claire just nodded, like it was simple, like it hadn't taken anything out of her to stand there with me while I quietly unraveled.

"Goodnight, Mae."

Her voice was soft and easy, final in a way that made something in my chest tighten unexpectedly. And then she turned, already stepping away, already leaving like this had been nothing more than a polite favor at the end of a long night.

It should have ended there.

It should have.

Instead, panic flared sharp and sudden, cutting straight through me before I could make sense of it.

My hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping her before she could take another step.

The contact was impulsive, almost desperate, and the second I did it, my breath caught like I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross.

Claire stilled immediately, glancing back at me, confusion flickering across her face. "Mae?"

I didn't let go and I should have.

Every instinct I had... every rule, every expectation, every quiet voice in my head that had been there my entire life, was screaming at me to let go, to fix this before it turned into something I couldn't take back.

Because this wasn't just a bad decision waiting to happen.

It was worse than that. It was complicated and messy and wrong in a way I didn't even fully understand yet.

Not just because it was Claire.

But because she was a woman.

The thought hit hard, sitting heavy in my chest, tangled up with guilt and something that felt dangerously close to fear.

This wasn't who I was supposed to be. It wasn't what I was supposed to want.

I had spent years building something steady, something certain, and this - this moment, this pull toward her, threatened to unravel all of it in seconds.

And the worst part was, I didn't want it to stop.

My grip tightened slightly around her wrist, grounding myself in something real as my thoughts spiraled faster and louder. I could still walk this back, I could laugh, say something careless, blame the alcohol, let her go and pretend this never happened.

That's what I should do. That's what I needed to do.

But instead, I stepped closer.

The space between us disappeared before I could second-guess it, and I saw the shift in her expression with confusion giving way to something sharper, more aware. "Mae... what are you doing?" She asked quietly.

I didn't answer, because I couldn't.

Because there wasn't a version of this that made sense out loud.

There wasn't a way to explain why I couldn't let her walk away, why my chest felt like it was caving in at the thought of the night ending like that, why everything in me was pulling toward her even while I knew I should be pulling back.

So I didn't try, I just moved. It wasn't careful, it wasn't thought through. I pulled her toward me and kissed her and the second it happened, everything inside me detonated.

There was no hesitation, no pause to reconsider - it was just impact.

Her lips against mine, warm and real and immediate in a way that sent something electric through me so fast it almost stole the breath from my lungs.

For a split second, my mind went completely blank, like it couldn't keep up with what was happening, like it had just... given up trying to make sense of it.

And then it hit all at once. How good it felt. Not just good, but so fuckingright. Terrifyingly, overwhelmingly right.

My chest tightened as something deep inside me cracked open, the tension that had been building all night snapping under the weight of it.

I had expected it to feel wrong, to feel forced or unnatural or something I would immediately regret, something I could use as proof that this wasn't real, that whatever I'd been feeling was just confusion or curiosity or a mistake.

But it didn't feel like a mistake, it felt like something I had been holding back without realizing it.

My fingers curled tighter against her, like I needed to anchor myself, because the sensation was almost too much. My pulse was racing, my thoughts scattering in every direction, and still, somehow, it all narrowed down to this single, undeniable truth: I didn't want to stop.

That realization hit harder than anything else, because it meant this wasn't just a moment. It meant something in me had already shifted, already crossed a line I couldn't uncross, and I hadn't even seen it happening until now.

My breath caught against her, uneven, betraying just how completely this had undone me. I kissed her again without thinking, deeper this time, like I needed to confirm it, like I needed to prove to myself that it still felt the same.

It did, if anything, it was worse. Stronger, more consuming.

And somewhere beneath the rush of it, buried under the heat and the pull and the way everything in me seemed to come alive all at once, there was still that voice - quieter now, but not gone - whispering that this was wrong, that I shouldn't be here, that I didn't get to want this.

But it was already too late.

For that first second, she stilled in my grip, like she hadn't expected it, like she was trying to catch up to what I'd just done. But then something in her shifted, something that felt just as sharp and immediate as the snap inside my own chest, and suddenly she was kissing me back.

Harder and deeper, not hesitant, not unsure butcertain.

The force of it sent a jolt through me, my breath catching as her hand came up, firm against my side, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

It was overwhelming, the way she met me there without question, like she'd been waiting for it, like she understood something about this moment that I didn't even have the words for yet.

And God, it only made it worse.

Because if this was wrong, if this was something I wasn't supposed to want, then why did it feel like this? Why did it feel so natural to lean into her, to let my body follow hers without thinking, to let myself get pulled forward as she guided us back into the room?

I barely registered the movement at first. Just the shift of space, the quiet sound of the door brushing shut behind us, the way the world outside seemed to disappear entirely, leaving nothing but this - her, and the way everything in me was responding to her like it had been waiting for permission.

My thoughts were gone again, scattered somewhere out of reach and all I could feel was her.

The pressure of her lips, the steadiness of her hands, the way she didn't hesitate to take control of the moment in a way that made my chest tighten and my pulse spike all at once.

I clung to her without realizing it, fingers gripping tighter like I needed something solid to hold onto as everything else tilted off balance.

And then, just as quickly as it had built, she pulled back and the absence hit immediately, sharp and disorienting, leaving me breathless, my chest rising too fast, like I'd been dropped back into my own body without warning.

Claire stayed close, though, her hand still at my side, her forehead almost brushing mine as she searched my face, her expression no longer easy or teasing, but something far more serious.

"What are you doing, Mae?" she asked, her voice lower now, steadier, but not unaffected.

I didn't answer because I couldn't, because I still didn't know. Or maybe I did, and I just couldn't say it out loud without everything collapsing under the weight of it. All I knew was that stopping felt impossible now, that whatever line I'd crossed, I had no intention of stepping back over it.

So instead of answering, I moved again.

My hand slid up, catching her jaw this time, pulling her back toward me with a kind of urgency I didn't even try to hide.

And then I kissed her again, harder than before, deeper, like I was trying to make up for the space she'd created, like I couldn't stand it, like I needed her close in a way that felt almost desperate.

There was no hesitation left in me now. No second-guessing, no pause to think about consequences or meaning or anything beyond this moment.

It was instinct, pure and overwhelming, my body acting faster than my mind could keep up with, chasing the feeling that had already taken hold of me and refused to let go.

I kissed her like it was the only thing grounding me, like if I stopped, everything else would come rushing back in and tear this apart.

She didn't hesitate this time.

The second I pulled her back in, Claire met me there with just as much force, more maybe, and everything lost whatever fragile balance it had left.

The kiss turned messy almost immediately, uncoordinated in the way neither of us seemed to care about, all heat and urgency and too much happening at once.

I barely registered the way we moved, just that we did.

One step, then another, off balance, half stumbling, my back brushing the edge of something before I could even process where we were. My hand tightened against her, trying to hold on, but it only made it worse, made everything feel more frantic, more out of control.

And then suddenly I was up against the wall.

My breath hitched sharply as my back met it, the impact not hard but enough to ground me for half a second before everything rushed back in twice as fast. Claire followed immediately, closing the space completely, her hands firm where they found me, like she wasn't about to let me slip away even if I tried.

Not that I would have, God... I wouldn't have.

The kiss deepened again without pause, her mouth moving against mine with a certainty that made my head spin, like she'd decided something and wasn't backing down from it.

It stole whatever breath I had left, my chest rising too fast, my thoughts scattering completely as I tried and failed - to keep up.

This was nothing like before, this wasn't just a moment anymore. This was losing control.

My hands didn't know where to go, shifting from her arms to her shoulders, gripping, holding, like I needed something solid to anchor myself because everything else felt like it was slipping.

The wall at my back should've grounded me, should've made me aware of where I was, what I was doing, but it didn't.

Not when she was this close, not when she was kissing me like this, like she meant it, like she wasn't questioning it at all. It made something twist in my chest, sharp and overwhelming, because I was questioning it and somehow it still wasn't enough to stop me.

If anything, it made me cling tighter.

Claire pulled back just enough to catch her breath, and her hand moved carefully down my side, hesitant. I could feel the restraint in her movements, the way she was trying to be gentle, trying to be cautious. Her fingers traced the fabric of my dress, and when she reached my thigh, she paused.

"Are you sure?" She asked softly, and there was something so tender in her voice that it nearly undid me.

"Yes," I whispered. "I'm sure."

She kissed me again, slower this time, more carefully, as her hand slipped under my dress. Her fingers found the edge of my underwear, tracing the lace with what felt like reverence. She was being so careful, so measured, checking in with me with every touch.

But then her fingers found how wet I was, and something shifted and her entire body went tense against mine.

"Oh," she breathed against my mouth, and suddenly her kiss became desperate, hungry. Her other hand gripped my hip as she pressed her body harder against mine, pinning me to the wall.

"You want this," she said, and this time it wasn't a question - it was a realization.

I nodded frantically, my hips already moving toward her touch, but she pulled her hand away and I nearly whimpered at the loss.

"Tell me," she murmured against my ear, and there was an urgency in her voice now that hadn't been there before.

"Yes," I gasped. "God, yes. I want you, Claire."

Something broke in her then.

She reached between us and gripped the delicate lace of my underwear, yanking it down with such force that I heard it tear. She didn't seem to care about anything except getting to me. Her hand cupped me, and the feeling of her palm against my bare, wet skin had me gasping.

"You've always had me," she whispered roughly against my ear, like she'd been holding those words inside for so long they were finally spilling over.

She pressed me harder against the wall, her body flush against mine as her fingers found their way inside me.

She started slow, curling them in a way that made my breath catch, but the careful precision quickly gave way to something more urgent.

Her pace quickened, her movements becoming more desperate, more hungry.

"That's it," she murmured, her forehead pressed against mine. "Just like that, let me feel you."

My hips rocked against her hand, meeting each thrust of her fingers as pleasure built deep inside me. She worked me relentlessly, her thumb finding my clit and rubbing in tight circles while her fingers continued their assault inside me. The combination was overwhelming in the best way possible.

"Oh God-" I gasped, my nails digging into her shoulders.

"Come on," she breathed, her voice ragged. "Give it to me."

She increased her pace, and I could feel myself tightening around her fingers, could feel the orgasm building like a storm inside me.

It started deep, a coiling tension that spread through my entire body.

My breath came in short, sharp gasps as the pleasure intensified, as every nerve ending seemed to ignite.

"That's it," she whispered, watching my face.

She didn't let up. If anything, she pressed harder, moved faster, her fingers curling inside me at just the right angle. The pressure built and built, until I thought I might explode from it.

"Claire-" I choked out, my head falling back against the wall.

"I've got you," she murmured.

And then it hit. My orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming. A cry tore from my throat as my entire body convulsed around her fingers. My legs nearly buckled, but she held me up against the wall, her hand not stopping, not slowing, just working me through it.

But it didn't end.

Just as I thought the intensity might peak and fade, she kept going, kept touching me, kept building the pleasure higher. My body shook as another wave crashed through me, my moans becoming desperate, incoherent gasps of her name.

"Yes," she breathed against my neck. "Just like that."

I couldn't breathe. Every muscle in my body was taut, trembling, overloaded with sensation. My hands gripped her hair, her shoulders, searching for something to anchor myself to as pleasure consumed everything.

I threw my head back against the wall, a loud moan tearing through me as she continued. The moment my walls clenched around her, she stopped suddenly, and I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped me.

But before I could process the loss, Claire was pulling me from the wall and guiding me to the bed. She pushed me onto it gently, and I lifted my head to look at her, waiting for her to climb over me.

What I didn't expect was her locking eyes with me, staring at me like I was prey before spreading my legs open and pushing my dress up over my hips.

"Fuck, Mae," she muttered, her voice thick with need.

She lowered herself between my thighs, and before I had time to prepare myself, her tongue flicked out to my clit with one long, deliberate stroke. My hips jerked up hard, a gasp tearing from my throat.

"You're so wet," she said, her voice raspy against me.

She didn't wait for a response. She dove back in, her tongue working me with an intensity that stole my breath. She licked, sucked, tasted me like I was the most delicious thing she'd ever had, and my hands immediately flew to her hair, gripping it as she worked.

"Oh- fuck," I gasped, my hips rocking against her face. "Don't stop! Fu- please."

She didn't. If anything, she doubled down, her tongue flicking faster over my clit as her fingers slid back inside me. The dual sensation was overwhelming with her mouth on me, her fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that made my vision blur.

"That's it," she murmured between gasps.

My stomach tightened, the pleasure building rapidly as she worked me toward another orgasm. My thighs started to shake, my breathing becoming more erratic as I got closer and closer to the edge.

"I know, baby," she breathed. "Come for me, give it to me."

She increased the pace, her tongue flicking rapidly over my clit while her fingers moved in perfect rhythm inside me. It was almost too much almost with the intensity, the pleasure, the fact that it was her doing this to me.

My orgasm hit like a lightning strike, tearing through my body with such force that I cried out her name, my back arching completely off the bed. She kept going, kept touching me, kept working me through it as my entire body convulsed around her.

When I finally came down, gasping and trembling, everything felt hazy, like my body hadn't quite caught up to what had just happened.

My dress was still half on, bunched and wrinkled where her hands had been, the fabric clinging to my skin in a way that made me hyper-aware of everything all at once.

Claire didn't move away from me right away.

She slowed instead, like the urgency had drained out of her, replaced by something quieter, something almost careful. When she finally pulled back, it wasn't far, her hands still steadying me, still there like she wasn't ready to let go yet.

And God, I didn't want her to.

She shifted, moving up slowly, her touch no longer rushed or searching, but soft and intentional. Her lips brushed just above the edge of my dress, then higher, pressing gentle kisses against my chest, my collarbone, like she was tracing the aftermath of something neither of us fully understood.

It made my breath catch all over again, but softer this time and quieter.

By the time she reached my face, I was still, completely still beneath her, like if I moved too much I'd break whatever this had turned into and then her lips met mine again, light and lingering.

There was no urgency in it now, no heat demanding more, just warmth and closeness. I could still taste everything that had just happened, and instead of making me pull away, it grounded me, anchored me in the reality of it.

When she pulled back, her face stayed close, her eyes softer than I'd ever seen them. Not teasing, not guarded, just... open. Like she was looking at me and seeing something she hadn't expected to find and it made something in my chest tighten.

Her hand lifted slowly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from my forehead, her fingers lingering against my skin in a way that felt almost reverent. Like she was being careful with me, like I was something fragile.

I swallowed, my throat tight, my thoughts trying to come back all at once - what this meant, what it didn't, what it couldn't mean. The weight of it pressed in at the edges, but I couldn't quite let it all the way in yet. Not while she was still looking at me like that.

"Hey," she murmured softly. The word barely broke the silence, but it settled somewhere deep in my chest anyway.

My hand moved before I could stop it, fingers catching lightly around her wrist, holding her there to just... to keep her close a second longer. "Hey," I echoed, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The room felt different now, like everything had shifted slightly off its axis, leaving us in the quiet aftermath of something bigger than just a moment. And for once, Claire didn't fill it with a joke or a smirk or something to make it easier.

Her forehead rested gently against mine, her breath warm, steady now, and I realized how close we still were, how easily I could lean into her, how natural it felt to stay like this instead of pulling away.

That realization scared me, more than anything that had come before it. Because this felt like something I could fall into if I wasn't careful, and I didn't know how to stop myself from wanting to.

My grip on her wrist loosened, but I didn't let go completely. I couldn't, not yet. Not when everything still felt like it was slipping through my fingers too fast.

Claire exhaled softly, her nose brushing mine for just a second, and something about the smallness of it made my chest ache in a way I didn't have a name for, so I closed my eyes.

Just for a moment.

Letting myself exist there, in the quiet, in the warmth, in the aftermath of something that already felt too big to undo. And for once...

I didn't try to run from it.