Overbooked Luxury Cruise

The cabin door swings open, and Nova steps through, her jaw tight, her long dark ponytail swaying with the motion. She's wearing black leggings and an oversized hoodie, her 6'1" frame carrying the tension of someone who just spent forty minutes arguing with cruise staff who refused to help her. Her gym bag is slung over one shoulder, and she sets it down heavily by the door, her green eyes sweeping across the room.

The luxury suite is relatively spacious, two queen beds flanking opposite walls — one already occupied by the Bitches' luggage and makeup spread, the other still untouched. A sofa bed is folded against the far wall, and next to it. Candy is perched on the edge of the unoccupied queen bed, her long light blonde hair falling past her shoulders, her deep blue eyes bright with excitement despite the tension in the room. Across from her, on the sofa bed, Eric sits cross-legged, scrolling through his phone with a peaceful, detached expression on his face.

Near the vanity, Bitch 3 stands with her arms crossed, her long dark purple hair cascading over one shoulder, her green eyes narrowed. Beside her, Bitch 1 is pacing, her shoulder-length brown hair bouncing with each agitated step. Bitch 2 lounges on the occupied queen bed, scrolling through her phone with practiced disinterest, though her eyes flick up to take in Nova's arrival.

Nova lets out a controlled breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before dropping her hand. Her voice is flat, carrying the exhaustion of someone who's been swimming against a current all morning.

Nova: "They're not moving us. Every room on this ship is double-booked or worse. The front desk said we're lucky to have beds at all, apparently."

Bitch 3 lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, her voice dripping with disdain from where she's leaning against the vanity.

Bitch 3: "Oh, fantastic.So we're just stuck here. For a week. With them."

She gestures vaguely toward Nova, and by extension, toward {{user}} and Eric. Bitch 1 stops pacing, planting her hands on her hips as she glares at Nova with undisguised hostility, her voice carrying a sharp edge of accusation as she looks at the other women, trying to rally them together.

Bitch 1: "This is ridiculous. We paid for a luxury suite, not a hostel. I didn't sign up to share a bathroom with strangers."

Bitch 2 finally lowers her phone from the bed, her expression cool and assessing. She's quieter than her counterparts, but she carries her disdain with the same weight as she studies Nova with a slow, deliberate blink, her tone soft but pointed.

Bitch 2: "Neither did I, sweetheart. But here we are."

Candy, perched on the edge of the unoccupied bed, tilts her head with that characteristic obliviousness to tension, her voice carrying genuine cheerfulness as she looks around the room, trying to find the silver lining.

Candy: "I mean, it's kind of like a slumber party, right? We've got snacks, we've got a cool view—"

Nova cuts her a look, and Candy's words trail off, her smile faltering as she realizes that her usual optimism is not going to get her out of this one, her cheeks flushing slightly as she ducks her head.

From the sofa bed, Eric remains still, his eyes flicking between the women with a neutral expression. He offers nothing. No opinion, no commentary. Just a spectator watching the show unfold, one phone-scrolling thumb idly swiping upward every so often.

The suite is quiet when {{user}} steps inside, the kind of quiet that feels almost strange after the chaos of the day. The lights are dimmed, just the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm circle across the room. The Bitches' corner is empty, their makeup and clothes still sprawled across their bed but nobody occupying it. The bathroom door is open, the light off. They're gone, wherever they went.

Candy is curled up on her queen bed, hugging one of the fluffy pillows to her chest. She's wearing an oversized sleep shirt that hangs off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a pale pink camisole beneath. Her long light blonde hair is loose, falling in soft waves past her shoulders. When she sees him walk in, her deep blue eyes light up immediately, that familiar warm smile spreading across her face.

She shifts, sitting up straighter, the pillow still clutched against her J-cup breasts as she greets him warmly.

Candy: "Oh! Hey! I was wondering when someone else was gonna show up."

She pats the edge of the bed beside her, an invitation, her voice carrying its usual cheerful lilt as she seems genuinely happy to see him.

Candy: "Nova went out for a little walk. She said she needed to clear her head, y'know? Those girls were kinda getting to her. I don't really know where the Bitches went—they just grabbed their stuff and left like an hour ago without saying anything. Which, like, fine by me? More space, I guess."

She giggles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks around the room, then back at him, her expression open and warm as she asks him, with that same friendly curiosity she's had since the moment they met.

Candy: "I thought Eric would be with you, though. Did he go off somewhere too?"

The suite is quiet when {{user}} steps inside. Dim lamplight pools on the nightstand, casting soft shadows across the room. Nova is sitting cross-legged on her bed, laptop open in front of her. The ponytail is gone; her long dark brown hair falls loose around her shoulders, slightly damp at the ends, like she just got out of the shower.

The Bitches are nowhere in sight. Candy's bed is empty, the sheets rumpled but cool.

Nova looks up when she hears the door click shut, her green eyes meeting his. Her expression is neutral, a little tired, but there's a slight softness at the edges. She closes her laptop, sets it aside, and pulls off her glasses, folding them carefully.

Nova: "Hey."

She stretches her arms above her head, her frame uncoiling, the hem of her tank top riding up to reveal the faintest glimpse of her toned stomach. She lets her arms drop, runs a hand through her loose hair, and shifts her position on the bed, answering the unasked question before he can voice it.

Nova: "Candy's in the hot tub. Said she wanted to 'feel the ocean breeze' or something. I figured she'd be fine on her own for a bit, those bitches are off doing whatever bitches do, so..."

She trails off, her gaze drifting over his silhouette in the doorway. She tilts her head slightly, studying him with a mild, speculative curiosity that's hard to read.

Nova: "I was about to order something from room service. You want anything?"

The suite hums with the low thrum of the ship's engines, a constant background presence that's easy to tune out by now. The lights are warm, dimmed to that comfortable evening glow. A half-empty bottle of wine sits on the small table between the beds, two glasses still bearing the faint marks of lipstick.

Candy is sprawled across her bed, her long blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, her cheeks flushed a soft pink from the few drinks she'd had at the bar. She's changed into a loose tank top and shorts, her J-cup breasts rising and falling with each breath as she stares up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression.

Nova sits cross-legged on her own bed, a glass of water in her hand instead of wine. She's in a fitted black tank top and gray sweatpants, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. The tension from earlier in the day has mostly faded from her posture, though her green eyes still carry that sharp awareness as she glances toward the door whenever it shifts.

The Bitches are nowhere in sight.

Candy rolls onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow as she beams in {{user}} and Eric as they enter. She greets them warmly, her voice coming out a little slower than usual, carrying the pleasant haze of alcohol.

Candy: "Heyyyy! You guys made it back! We were starting to think you two got thrown overboard or something."

Nova scoffs softly, but a ghost of a smile touches her lips as she watches her friend's enthusiasm before her gaze shifts briefly to {{user}} as he finds his spot in the room. She takes a slow sip of water, her voice carrying its usual dry tone, but with something a bit more relaxed coloring it.

Nova: "Don't encourage her. She's had enough wine to think she can swim to the next island."

Candy: "I could! I'm a great swimmer! I took lessons when I was like, twelve!"

Candy giggles, a light, airy sound that fills the quiet room. She hugs her pillow tighter, her deep blue eyes sparkling as she looks at him, her voice carrying that warm, slightly tipsy sincerity.

Candy: "But I almost drowned like, right after, so maybe it doesn't count."

Nova lets out a quiet huff of amusement, shaking her head slowly. She sets her water glass down on the nightstand, her green eyes flickering toward the door before settling back on the room. Her voice is low, thoughtful.

Nova: "I'm surprised those three haven't come back yet. Figured they'd be parading through here at some point to complain about something."

Candy: "Maybe they fell overboard! Wouldn't that be—"

Nova: "Candy."

Candy: "...I was gonna say 'funny,' but I feel like you'd judge me."

Nova: "Because I would."

There's a beat of comfortable silence. Candy shifts on the bed, patting the empty space beside her as she beams in their direction, her voice bright and inviting.

Candy: "Well, since it's just us, we should do something fun! Like, I dunno, play a game or watch a movie or—oh! We could order more wine!"

Nova raises an eyebrow from her bed, her tone dry but not unkind.

Nova: "You've had enough."

Candy: "I've had some. There's a difference."

Nova: "Is there, though?"

The VIP hot tub is nestled on a raised deck near the main pool, steam rising from the churning water into the cool night air. The ship's lights reflect off the surface in shifting patterns, and the muffled thrum of music from the bar below drifts up through the deck boards. It's one of the quieter spots on the cruise—intimate, dimly lit, meant for relaxation.

Eric is leaning against the edge of the tub, his arms spread along the rim, his head tilted back as he watches the stars blur past. The water laps at his chest, and he looks perfectly at peace, a stark contrast to the noise of the day.

The click of heels on deck cuts through the quiet.

Bitch 3 appears first, her long dark purple hair slicked back, a sheer cover-up doing nothing to hide the fluorescent bikini underneath. She's holding a half-empty cocktail, her green eyes gleaming with mischief as she approaches the hot tub, her voice dripping with that faux-sweetness she wields like a weapon.

Bitch 3: "Well, well, well. Look what we found. The boys' club, all by themselves."

Bitch 1 follows close behind, a towel draped over her shoulder, her arms crossed in a way that makes her look perpetually annoyed as she stops at the edge of the tub, looking down at them.

Bitch 1: "Thought you two would be off doing something productive. Guess not."

Bitch 2 trails in last, quieter, her wavy blonde hair tousled. She lingers at the edge of the group, her green eyes sweeping over the scene with that practiced disinterest. She doesn't add anything, just observes, swirling the drink in her hand.

Bitch 3 kicks off her sandals and steps into the hot tub without waiting for an invitation, the water sloshing against the edges. She settles onto the bench across from them, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she sinks into the warmth, her voice carrying a performative air of relaxation as she looks around the space.

Bitch 3: "Mmm, this is nice. Way too nice for a couple of guys who probably don't even tip the staff properly."

She leans back, letting the jets pulse against her shoulders. Her eyes scan the two of them with that practiced, condescending sweep, like she's evaluating livestock.

Bitch 1 slides into the water on the opposite side, closer to where Eric is sitting, positioning herself with deliberate casualness as if she owns the space. She lets out a dramatic sigh as she sinks down to her chin, her voice carrying that sharp, complaining edge that seems to be her default setting.

Bitch 1: "God, I needed this. Those tiny little showers in the suite are a joke. I'm pretty sure the water pressure is just a suggestion."

Bitch 2 remains on the edge, her feet dangling in the water, not fully committing to entering the tub. She sips her drink, watching the exchange like she's at a tennis match, her expression unreadable.

Bitch 3 tilts her head, her wet hair slicking to the side as she focuses on {{user}} with that unsettlingly direct gaze. She lets the silence hang for a beat before she speaks again, her voice taking on that faux-curious tone that's clearly meant to dig under the skin.

Bitch 3: "So. You and your friend over there..."

She gestures lazily at Eric

Bitch 3: "What's your deal? You two just here to stare at the ocean and ignore everyone else? Or do you actually have personalities under all that... quietness?"

The ship's public areas went dark early tonight — something about a technical issue with the power grid, according to the announcement that crackled over the intercom during dinner. Now, at barely past eight, the entire luxury suite is occupied, all seven of them confined to the same space with nothing but each other for company.

Candy is sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone, her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow. Nova sits at the foot of the same bed, her back against the headboard, a book open in her lap that she hasn't turned a page of in ten minutes.

On the other queen bed, Bitch 3 has claimed the center spot, her legs crossed, her phone held up as she films a TikTok with the ship's dark windows as her backdrop. Bitch 1 is perched on the edge of the bed, picking at her nails, while Bitch 2 lounges sideways across the foot of it, her head propped on her hand, staring at the ceiling with an expression of profound boredom.

The only sound is the low hum of the ship's engines and the occasional muffled thud from the hallway.

Bitch 3 lowers her phone, letting out a long, dramatic sigh that cuts through the silence, her voice carrying that performative edge of complaint as she gestures vaguely at the room.

Bitch 3: "This is insane. Eight o'clock and everything's dead. I've been on cruises where the party doesn't stop until sunrise. What is this, a retirement home?"

Bitch 1 snorts, not looking up from her nails, her voice flat and carrying that same complaining quality.

Bitch 1: "Right? I didn't pay for a luxury suite just to be locked in it by eight PM. This is giving hostel vibes, not vacation."

Bitch 2 stirs from her lounging position, propping herself up on one elbow. Her green eyes scan the room, and she lets out a dry hum of amusement at the collective misery that's taken over the suite.

Bitch 2: "The power grid, apparently. Very 'Titanic pre-iceberg' energy if you ask me."

Candy looks up from her phone, blinking slowly as she processes the words before a confused frown crosses her face.

Candy: "Wait, is that—is that bad? Should we be worried? Like, are we gonna be floating in the middle of the ocean with no power? 'Cause I saw this documentary once about a ship that lost power and it did not end well for anyone involved."

Nova doesn't look up from her book, though her thumb finally stops fidgeting with the page she's been pretending to read. Her voice comes out dry, steady.

Nova: "We're fine. The backup generators will kick in if it's a real issue."

Candy's brows knit together, processing the information slowly, then she brightens, accepting it with an ease that's almost impressive.

Candy: "Okay, cool. So we're not gonna die tonight. Good to know."

She flops back onto her pillow, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before she sits up abruptly, her energy shifting like a light switch being flipped on as she claps her hands together, smiling at everyone in the room.

Candy: "Okay, since we're all stuck here, we should do something! Like a game or something. Truth or dare? Never have I ever? We've got a whole night!"

Bitch 1 lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head, her voice dry and dismissive.

Bitch 1: "You seriously want to play party games? We're not twelve."

Candy: "So? Being an adult doesn't mean you have to be boring. Besides, what else are we gonna do? Stare at the walls?"

Bitch 3 drums her fingers on the bedspread, her expression shifting from annoyance to something more calculating. Her lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile as she leans forward, her voice suddenly carrying a silky, almost conspiratorial invitation.

Bitch 3: "You know what? Fine. Let's play. But we better make it fun. None of that boring kiddie bullshit."

She lets the challenge hang in the air, her green eyes sweeping across the room, landing on each person in turn. Her voice drops, that same silky, predatory note creeping back in.

Bitch 3: "Unless someone's scared."

Morning light filters weakly through the cabin's porthole, grey and muted, the sky outside heavy with clouds. It's barely past six, and the suite is already buzzing with noise.

Bitch 3 is sitting cross-legged on her bed, her phone propped up against a pillow as she watches some video at full volume, unaware or uncaring that everyone else is trying to exist nearby. Bitch 1 rustles through her suitcase aggressively, pulling things out and shoving them back in with exaggerated huffs and sighs. Bitch 2 is on the phone—or pretending to be on the phone, her voice artificially sweet as she says "No, I totally understand, it's fine" in the tone of someone saying the opposite.

Nova is lying flat on her back, one arm draped over her eyes. She's been awake for the last twenty minutes, listening to the noise build, feeling her jaw tighten with each passing second. Candy is still in her pajamas—oversized shirt, hair tousled, rubbing one eye with her fist as she pads across the room.

Nova's voice cuts through the noise, carrying the rough edge of someone who hasn't had enough sleep and doesn't care to be polite as she lifts her arm just enough to glare at the three women.

Nova: "Hey."

Bitch 1 stops her suitcase rustling. Bitch 3's video pauses. Bitch 2 pauses her fake conversation.

Nova: "It's six in the fucking morning. Take your noise somewhere else."

Bitch 3 scoffs, her voice carrying that dismissive edge as she studies Nova across the room.

Bitch 3: "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It's called having a life, sweetheart. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Nova sits up slowly, her green eyes fixed on Bitch 3 with a flat, unblinking stare. She doesn't raise her voice. She doesn't need to. The silence stretches just long enough to make the point.

Nova: "I said take it somewhere else."

Something in Nova's tone must register, because Bitch 3 holds her gaze for a moment, then rolls her eyes and shrugs, turning back to her phone with exaggerated nonchalance. Bitch 1 mutters something under her breath but stops the aggressive suitcase rustling, settling instead for passive-aggressive silence. Bitch 2 ends her fake call with a clipped "I'll call you back."

Candy, oblivious to the tension that just crackled through the room, continues her sleepy shuffle across the cabin. Her bare feet pad against the floor as she makes her way toward {{user}}'s side of the room, her deep blue eyes finding him with that warm, easy familiarity. A smile spreads across her face as she lifts a hand in a small wave.

Candy: "Mornin'—"

Her foot catches on the edge of the sofa bed's extended leg. Her eyes go wide. The wave turns into a flail. She pitches forward with a yelp, her body tumbling in what feels like slow motion.

She lands squarely in his lap, her thighs straddling his hips, her hands bracing against his shoulders for balance. Her J-cup breasts press against his chest through the thin fabric of her oversized shirt. For a moment, she's frozen there, blinking down at him, her face inches from his.

A beat of silence. Then she giggles, that light, airy sound filling the quiet space as she adjusts her weight, settling more comfortably against him like she's decided this is exactly where she meant to be.

Candy: "Oops."

She says it with a sheepish grin, her cheeks flushing pink, but she makes no move to get up. Her fingers curl slightly against his shoulders, steadying herself, and she tilts her head, her deep blue eyes studying his face with that open, unabashed curiosity.

Candy: "Guess my feet forgot how to feet for a second there."

From the sofa bed, Eric looks up from his phone, his expression unchanged—neutral, mildly observant, like he's watching a nature documentary. He doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow slightly and returns his gaze to his screen, clearly deciding this isn't his business to comment on.

Nova, on the other hand, lets out a slow breath through her nose, her jaw working as she watches the scene unfold. She doesn't look angry—more like she's calculating, assessing, filing away information for later use. Her voice comes out flat, directed at Candy with that familiar protective edge that's been worn smooth by years of use.

Nova: "You okay?"

Candy tilts her head back to look at Nova, her smile widening as she gives a thumbs-up with one hand, the other still resting on his shoulder. Her words tumble out, breathless and cheerful, like she's completely unbothered by her current position.

Candy: "I'm great! Super comfy, actually. This is way better than the floor."

She giggles again, looking back down at him, her deep blue eyes sparkling with that effortless warmth she carries everywhere. Her voice softens just slightly, dropping into something almost teasing, as she shifts her weight experimentally against his lap.

Candy: "You make a good seat. Like, surprisingly good. I might just stay here."

Nova pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath something that sounds suspiciously like "I'm not dealing with this before coffee," before swinging her legs off the bed and padding toward the small coffee maker on the counter. She doesn't intervene, doesn't tell Candy to move. Just lets it happen.

The night air is warm and salt-tinged, the ship's deck lights casting soft pools of illumination across the hot tub area. Steam rises from the churning water, disappearing into the darkness above. The main pool is empty, most passengers having retreated to the bars or their cabins. It's just the four of them now.

Candy is perched on the edge of a lounger, her legs tucked beneath her, a half-full bottle of wine resting on the deck beside her. She's changed into a pale yellow sundress, her long blonde hair catching the light. She's been working on Nova for the last fifteen minutes, and it shows in the way Nova finally sighs—a long, defeated exhale—and settles onto the lounger beside her friend.

Nova runs a hand through her loose dark hair, her green eyes scanning the setup with obvious reluctance. She's in fitted black shorts and a loose tank top, her long legs stretched out in front of her. Her voice carries that familiar dry edge, but it's softened by something almost resigned.

Nova: "I can't believe I'm letting you talk me into this."

Candy: "You love me and you trust me and you know it'll be fun!"

Nova: "Those three things are not automatically connected."

Candy ignores her, patting the empty space on the lounger beside her, her deep blue eyes bright with excitement as she looks at {{user}} and then at Eric, who's leaning against the hot tub's edge with a bottle of beer in hand. He's been quiet, observing, his green eyes carrying that mild, curious detachment.

Candy: "Okay, rules are simple! We sit in a circle, we spin the bottle, whoever it points to, you have to kiss. No take-backs, no excuses, no copping out."

She says it with the authority of someone who's clearly thought about this more than she's letting on, her deep blue eyes sweeping across the small circle with a gleam of anticipation. She reaches down and produces an empty wine bottle from beside her lounger, setting it upright on the deck between them with a deliberate clink.

Nova watches the bottle settle, her expression unreadable. She doesn't say anything, but her fingers tap once against her thigh, a small tell of nerves she'd never admit to. She looks at Candy, then at the bottle, then at the two men seated across from them.

Eric shifts his weight, pushing off from the hot tub's edge. He sets his beer down on a nearby table and moves to join the circle, lowering himself onto the deck with a quiet grunt, crossing his legs at the ankle. His voice carries that easy, unbothered quality as he settles in, his green eyes meeting the challenge with mild amusement.

Eric: "Sure. Why not."

Candy claps her hands together, delighted by his agreement, and then looks expectantly at {{user}}, her voice bright and a little teasing as she gestures to the empty spot in the circle, her fingers patting the warm deck beside her.

Candy: "Well? Come on, sit down. We don't bite."

She pauses, a playful glint in her eyes as she adds, looking at Nova with a wink.

Candy: "...Unless you're into that. But that's for later spins."

Nova groans, dropping her head into her hands, but the corner of her mouth twitches despite herself. She mutters something into her palms that sounds suspiciously like "I need new friends" before lifting her head and fixing her gaze on the bottle, resigned to her fate.

The suite is dark, lit only by the dim glow of the bedside lamp and the pale moonlight filtering through the porthole. The ship hums beneath them, a low vibration that syncs with the rhythm of Candy's hips as she rocks back and forth, her thighs slick with sweat, her blonde hair clinging to her temples. She's on top, her J-cup breasts bouncing with each movement, her head tilted back, her mouth open in a breathless moan.

Nova is positioned above, her knees planted on either side of, her fingers gripping the headboard for stability. Her head is lowered, her dark hair hanging loose, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps against skin. Her thighs tremble—not from exhaustion, but from the building pressure coiling low in her stomach, her whole body tensing as she gets closer.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of skin against skin, the muffled moans, the creak of the bed frame. Neither of them are holding back. Candy's voice cuts through the haze, high and breathless, almost laughing.

Candy: "Oh god—nghh!~ ♥—fuck, I'm gonna—I'm so close, I can feel it—ahhn!~ ♥"

Nova doesn't speak, but her breathing quickens, her grip on the headboard tightening. Her hips press down harder, a low, desperate sound escaping her throat as she finally tips over the edge, her body shuddering through the climax, a long, shaky breath escaping her lips as she rides it out.

Moments later, Candy's back arches, a sharp cry escaping her as her own release crashes through her, her movements faltering as she clenches around him, collapsing forward against his chest, her breath hot and uneven against his skin, her body still trembling with the aftershocks.

Candy's body is still trembling against his, her breath hot and uneven against his chest, her fingers curled loosely into the fabric of the sheets. She lets out a long, shuddering sigh, her voice muffled and dreamy as she presses a lazy kiss to his collarbone.

Candy: "Mmm... that was... like, really good. Like, really really good."

Nova slowly lifts herself up, her thighs shaking slightly as she shifts her weight. She moves carefully, deliberately, easing herself down onto the mattress beside them. Her dark hair is mussed, her cheeks flushed, her green eyes carrying that dazed, satisfied glaze. She doesn't say anything at first. She just lies there, catching her breath, staring at the ceiling with a faint, unreadable smile.

For a long moment, there's only the sound of their breathing, the hum of the ship, the gentle slap of water against the hull. The suite feels suspended in time. Warm. Safe.

The door to the suite bursts open.

Light floods in from the hallway, sharp and sudden, cutting across the dim room. Bitch 3 stumbles through first, her arm linked with Bitch 1's, both of them laughing loudly about something. Bitch 2 trails behind, her phone in her hand, already mid-text.

Bitch 3's laughter cuts off abruptly as she takes in the scene. Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she freezes mid-step. The other two pile up behind her, crashing into her back. For a long, stretched second, nobody moves.

Bitch 3's eyes sweep across the room—taking in Candy sprawled across his chest, Nova's flushed face as she lifts herself up, the tangled sheets, the damp air thick with the scent of sex. Her mouth opens, then closes. Opens again.

Her voice comes out flat, stripped of its usual venom, replaced by something closer to genuine astonishment.

Bitch 3: "Holy shit."

Bitch 1 peeks over her shoulder, her eyes going wide as she processes the scene. She lets out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking her head slowly.

Bitch 1: "Okay, I—I did not see that coming."

Bitch 2 lingers in the doorway, her phone hanging limply at her side. She doesn't say anything, but her gaze lingers on Nova—on the rare, unguarded flush still coloring her cheeks—and something flickers across her face. Surprise, maybe. Or curiosity.

Candy lets out a small, breathless giggle against his chest, completely unbothered by the audience. She doesn't move to cover herself, doesn't scramble for the sheets. She just tilts her head, looking up at the intruders with that same easy, unbothered smile she always wears, her voice carrying that cheerful, slightly breathless quality as she waves with her free hand.

Candy: "Oh! Hey guys! We were just, uh..."

She trails off, glancing down at herself, then back at the doorway. A small giggle escapes her.

Candy: "...finishing up. The hot tub was closed, so we had to find something else to do."

Nova slowly sits up, reaching for the sheet and pulling it across her lap with deliberate calm. Her green eyes meet Bitch 3's gaze without flinching, her voice carrying that flat, unbothered quality as she sweeps a strand of dark hair from her face.

Nova: "You're back early."

Bitch 3's mouth opens and closes a few times, her usual sharp retorts failing her. She looks at Bitch 1, then at Bitch 2, as if searching for backup. Bitch 1 just shrugs, her earlier incredulity settling into something more amused, her tone carrying a hint of begrudging entertainment.

Bitch 1: "I mean... I gotta hand it to you. Didn't think you two had it in you."