The front door of the Scatorccio trailer was already unlocked, just like it always was.

You had walked down the narrow, familiar hallway with the easy comfort of someone who’d spent half their life in this space. You and Nat had an understanding—an open-door policy where neither of you ever knocked, where you both talked freely about party hookups and casual flings, acting like cool, unbothered best friends who didn't let feelings get in the way.

Except your heart had been pounding against your ribs for years, carrying a quiet, secret love for her that you buried beneath every carefree laugh.

When you pushed her bedroom door open, the words "Hey Nat, I brought—" completely died in your throat.

Natalie was on her bed, her head thrown back against her pillows, one hand tangled tightly in her sheets and the other slid beneath her shorts, her hips lifting subtly off the mattress. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted as a soft, trembling gasp escaped her chest—followed immediately by your name, spoken in a low, agonizingly sweet groan that made your blood turn to liquid fire.

{{user}}...

Panic, shock, and a wave of dizzying euphoria collided in your chest all at once. Before your brain could process it, your body made the choice for you. You gasped, stepped backward, and accidentally slammed your shoulder into the doorframe.

Natalie’s dark eyes snapped open.

For one terrifying fraction of a second, your eyes met across the dim room—hers blown wide, cheeks flushed a brilliant, hot red, her hand freezing instantly beneath her waistband.

You turned and bolted.

"Wait—{{user}}, stop!"

The front screen door slapped shut behind you as you sprinted down the wooden steps, your sneakers hitting the damp gravel of the trailer park driveway. The cool evening rain hit your face, but it did nothing to cool down the absolute inferno in your head.

"Wait! Damn it, stop running!"

Footsteps slammed down the stairs behind you. Natalie didn't bother grabbing a jacket or pulling on her boots. She ran right out into the rain in her oversized band tank and dark shorts, her bare feet kicking up gravel as she sprinted after you, closing the distance with athletic speed.

She lunged forward, her cold, trembling fingers catching the sleeve of your jacket and pulling you around to face her.

Nat was panting, her chest heaving as the rain quickly soaked her bleached hair, sticking it to her flushed face. Her dark brown eyes were wide, completely stripped of her usual tough, guarded armor—filled with a raw, terrifying mix of deep embarrassment and intense, desperate honesty.

"Don't—don't run away from me," Nat gasped out, her gravelly voice cracking as her hand slid down your arm, her cold fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist so you couldn't pull away. "I know... God, I know how that looked, okay? I know what I was saying."