Chapter Five - Zoe
I wake up to empty sheets. The bed is cold, the space beside me already vacant, like I’ve been abandoned before I even had the chance to understand what happened. I close my eyes, squeezing them tight, trying to push away the overwhelming weight of disappointment that presses down on me.
I knew it was a risk, going there with him. I knew it was reckless, that it might mean nothing to him. But I didn’t expect it to feel like this. The emptiness, the quiet aftermath of a night I’ll never truly understand.
His scent still lingers in the sheets, and it feels like a cruel reminder. I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow the frantic pace of my heart. I had convinced myself I wasn’t looking for anything. That it didn’t matter. But it does.
It matters more than I want to admit.
The sting of it cuts deeper than I expected. He took what he wanted, and now he’s gone, leaving me with nothing but memories and a hollow ache. It hurts. It hurts like I’m nothing more than some fleeting encounter, like I’m disposable, a moment of pleasure he’ll forget. To me, it was everything.
My phone buzzes, its vibrations jarring in the quiet room.
I groggily reach for it, the screen lighting up with several texts from Jenni and Maria.
I glance at them—questions about the night, about where I’ve been, if I’m okay—but I don’t answer.
Not now. Not when everything feels like a blur, like a mistake wrapped in heat and confusion.
I sit up slowly, my body aching in places I’ve never felt before.
It’s not pain. It’s something else—something that tells me my body’s been marked in a way I can’t ignore.
I rub my eyes, trying to clear the fog in my head, but the memories flood back in waves—his hands, his lips, the way he took control, the way I let him.
I need to get out of here.
I stand and quickly gather my clothes, dressing as fast as I can, my hands shaking slightly as I slip into the dress I wore last night. I avoid looking in the mirror, even though I know it would be pointless. I’m already aware of the mess I’ve made of myself.
I grab my phone and slip out of the suite, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway is empty, silent, and as I walk, the sound of my footsteps is the only thing I can hear.
I don’t look back as I leave the hallway and step into the elevator. The moment the doors close, the floodgates open. I feel the weight of it—the tears, the confusion, everything I’ve tried to shove down since last night.
I don’t regret it. Not in the way I thought I would. But I feel lost. The man I gave myself to is a stranger. I know his name—Lukin—but that’s it. No last name. No number. No trace. Nothing but the echo of his touch on my skin and the fire he sparked in me.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
I step out, my legs unsteady, my mind still buzzing with the remnants of the night.
The cool night air greets me as I step outside, but it does little to calm the storm inside me.
I keep walking, fast, like if I keep moving, I can outrun the feelings that have settled deep inside me.
It’s not until I’m halfway down the block, the sounds of sporadic, early morning traffic around me, that the tears start to come.
I don’t understand why. I’m not sorry for what happened.
But I can’t stop the wave of confusion that crashes over me.
I gave myself to a man I barely know. And I don’t even know how to feel about it.
I walk the long way home, where I step into the shower, the hot water pounding against my skin like it can wash away the weight of the night.
I scrub myself harder than I need to, trying to rid myself of the feeling of his touch, the memory of how good it felt, how natural it seemed, and how terrifying it all was.
I wish it was as easy as the soap sliding off my body, but it’s not.
I shower twice, my skin raw from the scrubbing, but it doesn’t matter. The ache inside me hasn’t gone away, and I don’t know how to stop thinking about him.
I finally step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel, feeling the cold air hit my damp skin.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my phone in hand, and after a few seconds of hesitation, I open up the messages from Maria and Jenni.
They’ve been blowing up my phone all morning, concerned, asking where I went last night, why I left so suddenly.
I take a deep breath before typing, my fingers trembling slightly as I write the words: sorry I didn’t return calls or texts. I was kind of busy last night.
Busy? That’s a simple way of putting it.
The texts from Maria and Jenni come in quickly.
Maria’s reads: I’m on my way. You don’t sound so good.
As if Jenni can read Maria’s texts, she also says she’s on her way. I’m a little relieved that my friends are rushing to my side, and it lifts my mood a little.
Maria arrives first, her energy bright as ever. “Brought you your favorites,” she says, setting down a tray of coffee and pastries on the bed beside me. It’s the same routine, the same comfort, but today it feels different.
I’m barely getting started on the coffee when there’s another knock.
It’s Jenni, with sunglasses still perched on her face despite the dim light in the room.
She’s holding more coffee and a box of pastries, but her movements are slow, sluggish.
“I’m not sure if I should be happy or pissed off right now,” she mutters, clearly feeling the aftermath of too much fun last night.
Her hangover is written all over her face, but she’s still trying to act like everything’s fine.
“Why weren’t you responding to texts and calls? What were you so busy with?”
I freeze, raising the coffee cup to my lips. My friends glance at each other and then narrow their eyes at me.
“Zoe?” Jenni urges.
“Hmm.” I take a bite of the croissant and drink more coffee.
“Zoe,” Maria says gently, “are you okay? You’ve barely said a word.” Her voice is laced with concern now, the playful teasing gone. “What were you busy with last night?”
I take a shaky breath, the weight of everything sitting in my chest, making it hard to speak. The words have been building inside me all morning, but now that the moment is here, I feel like I’m about to burst.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. I glance down at my hands, still trembling slightly from the rush of emotions that flood through me.
Finally, I manage to speak, my voice small, barely a whisper. “I… I lost my virginity last night.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and raw.
“To who?” they chorus.
“I don’t know him.” I shrug like I don’t feel terrible about it. “I just met him at the club and went with him. He was gone before I woke up this morning.” Lukin. I want to say his name, but it’ll make this more real, so I don’t.
I brace myself for my friends’ judgment, for the disappointment or disbelief, but when I glance up, their expressions are not what I expected.
Maria blinks, her eyes wide with surprise, but there’s no condemnation in her gaze—just shock. Jenni, who’s been nursing a hangover all morning, takes off her sunglasses, rubbing her eyes as she processes the news.
It’s a long, quiet moment before Maria leans in and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight, reassuring hug. “It’s okay, Zoe,” she says softly. “Really. It’s okay. You’re allowed to figure this stuff out on your own terms.”
Jenni joins in, her hand gently rubbing my back. “Yeah, girl. It’s not the end of the world. We all make emotional choices sometimes. It’s part of living. Don’t let it define you. You’re still you.”
I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat that refuses to go away. “But I don’t even know his last name,” I admit, my voice shaking now. “I don’t know anything about him. He was… a stranger. And now it feels like he just… disappeared. Like it meant nothing.”
Maria pulls away just enough to look at me, her eyes soft with understanding. “Maybe it didn’t mean nothing. You know, sometimes we need something—someone—to pull us away from our own chaos, to give us a moment of release. Maybe that’s what he was for you. Your escape.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I had tried so hard to make sense of everything, but maybe Maria was right. Maybe I didn’t need to make it all fit into some neat box.
“I… I don’t know,” I murmur, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I didn’t plan for it to be this way. It just happened.”
“And that’s okay,” Jenni chimes in, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to have all the answers right now. You’re still figuring things out, and you have every right to take your time.”
Maria gives me another squeeze. “It wasn’t some mistake, Zoe. It was a choice. And I need you to own it with confidence. I mean, who cares? I lost my virginity years ago to a random guard in the back of my father’s jeep.”
“Wait, what?” Jenni and I shriek.
She rolls her eyes. “I was a rebellious kid.”
And just like that, the atmosphere changes. We eat and my friends tell colorful stories about how they lost their virginity. Jenni lost hers at twenty to her high school sweetheart. She blocked him right after.
“You have the most interesting story,” Jenni pouts. “Whoever the bastard is, I’m sure he’s a handsome devil.”
“Girl—” I blush deeply and my friends burst into laughter. “Okay, can I say something? Don’t judge…”
Maria narrows her eyes. “Wait, wait! I know what you want to say. You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You slut!”
Laughter bubbles out of me and I playfully nudge her. “Shut up. Yes, I did. I mean, I hate how I felt in the morning, but last night, I—girl.” I almost shudder at the memory of the steamy night I had.
“I see why some girls prefer older men.”
“Wait, he’s old?” Jenni gasps.
“Not old like a grandpa,” I giggle. “A silver fox, definitely. He looked so good, I swear and he was so experienced. It’s like he knew my body. Man…” I shake my head. “Though this will never happen again, I’m allowed to enjoy the moment and not my feelings after, right?”
Maria scoffs. “Girl, I don’t know about you. But when I had sex with an older man, I enjoyed my feelings before, during and after.”
Jenni and I clasp our hands over our ears and groan. “Maria!”
“Okay, enough of the heavy stuff!” Maria says, practically bouncing in place. “Let’s talk about my birthday that’s coming up. It’s going to be huge!”
Jenni playfully rolls her eyes. “I don’t know how a medical student seems to have so much time on their hands to plan a party.”
Maria slides her a glance. “Jenni, shut up, you know you’re always down for a party.”
As they burst into laughter, I think about Maria’s birthday party in two weeks.
Jenni and I have been helping her plan the whole thing, and I’m even in charge of her outfits.
I can’t wait for it. Maria’s excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but smile despite the turmoil still swirling in my chest. The shift in energy is exactly what I need right now.
It’s like a breath of fresh air after all the heavy emotions.
That night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the darkness pressing down on me.
His mouth. His hands. The way they moved with certainty, like he knew exactly how to make me feel things I didn’t know I could.
It’s etched into my skin, a mark that I can’t scrub away, even though I’ve tried.
I still feel the heat of his touch, the pressure of his body against mine, the way he kissed me—possessive, urgent, like I belonged to him.
I don’t know who Lukin really is. I don’t know what he wants from me. His name, his presence—it all feels like a mystery I’m not sure I want to solve, but I can’t stop myself from trying to understand it.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was everything that came with it—the way he made me feel seen, wanted, like I was his.
And that thought, the way it lingers in the back of my mind, terrifies me.
Because I want to feel that again. I want to feel that possessiveness, that intensity, that raw connection between us. It scares me how badly I want it. How quickly I’ve become addicted to the pull of him. I barely know him, but I can still feel him, still crave the way he made me feel.
I turn over in bed, trying to get comfortable, but sleep won’t come. My mind keeps racing, chasing the memory of him, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape it.
And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?
I’m not just scared of him. I’m scared of how badly I want him.