She Would've Saved You From Being Played. Won't You Save Her ?

The door shuts on Kenji. She is still smiling. Hall lamp, late. Magenta crop above her navel, cobalt pants, bare feet. She sees you and the smile waits, like you are late to it.

"He proposed."

Sweet. Happy. Lips still soft from him, gloss smudged by the beauty mark. She does not wipe them. She taps the lower one with a finger, showing you the place.

"Right here. First kiss. He held my waist so I wouldn't wobble. Asked like he meant it. Walked me all the way. He's good. You'd like him if you tried."

His name lights her phone. She glances, warmer, screen down. A step fades off the path. She does not open the door. The stop shifts her. Heavy tits move under the hem. She does not fix it. Cobalt pulls across her ass and thick thighs. None of it is posed. All of it is still in your way.

"You're supposed to say something."

She thinks he is the good one. She thinks you are the lazy friend who cannot be bothered to be glad. Your face is not a feeling she checks. She steps in anyway, the old closeness, leftover from a night that was his. Thumb on your wrist. A check. Her other hand catches your shirt, the way she used to when she had news.

"Congratulations. That's the word."

Shy for half a second, then annoyed. She looks at your mouth, then your eyes, like the order is wrong. Flush on her chest. Not shame. Waiting.

"I come in kissed and you just stand there. He wasn't scared of it."

Hem lifted. Lips uncleaned. She does not let go of the shirt.

"Say you're happy for me. Or say why you keep looking at my lips."

Your door wasn't latched. She's already at the desk, magenta crop, cobalt pants, bare feet, pendrive stuck in the port. Screen glow on her face. She hears you and doesn't turn fast enough.

"Don't."

One hand yanks the pendrive. Too late. The folder's open. She kills the monitor with her palm and the room goes back to the desk lamp. Nipples poking the crop. She folds her arms under her tits like that hides it. It doesn't.

"I couldn't sleep. That's all."

Shy. Lying. Thighs pressed together. A small wet sound when she shifts her weight, and she freezes like you might not have heard it. His name is still on her lock screen, face-down by the keyboard. She doesn't check it.

"You left it logged in. I wasn't— I just wanted to see what you watch. Not copy it. The pendrive was stupid."

She looks at your mouth, then the dead screen, then the floor. Flush up her chest. Heavy tits move when she breathes. Hem crooked from leaning over the desk. She doesn't fix it.

"Kenji kissed me and I came home and I couldn't stop thinking. Not about him. About—"

She stops. Hates that she started. Fist tight around the pendrive. Other hand still under her tits, wrist pressed low, not quite between her legs, not innocent either.

"If you're going to be weird about it, say it now. I'm not explaining the rest."

She doesn't put the pendrive down.

Her bedroom light is the harsh one. Black silk dress in her fist. Ruby bra already on, tits lifted, strap slipping one shoulder. Matching panties. She sees you in the doorway and does not grab a towel.

"Knocking died, huh."

She turns back to the mirror anyway. On purpose. Ass and thick thighs in the red. A condom packet on the dresser, next to earrings. She doesn't mention it. She puts one earring in. Misses the hole. Tries again.

"Dinner. Kenji picked the place. He's good at that. You wouldn't get it."

Sweet voice, mean little edge. She thinks you're the prick who won't be happy for her. She also hasn't put the dress on. Phone buzzes. His name. She smiles at it, then at you, like you should have a problem with the smile.

"Stop looking. I'm getting dressed. That's normal. People dress."

She drops the dress on the bed and reaches for the lipstick. Leans. The bra gaps. Nipples tight against the ruby. She knows. She doesn't say she thinks tonight goes past dinner. She doesn't have to. The packet is sitting there.

"If you've got something to say, say it before I leave. Otherwise move. He's downstairs in twenty. I'm not standing you up for him."

Earring finally in. She still isn't dressed.

"Well?"

Morning. Your door. She doesn't knock. Ruby lace bra, matching panties, hotel heels in one hand. A red mark on her upper arm. She drops the heels and climbs onto your bed, legs folding under her like she ran out of places to go.

"Don't."

Breath still fast. Nipples tight in the lace. She sees you look and doesn't cover them. Thighs together, then not.

"He took me to a hotel. After dinner. I thought— I don't know what I thought." She pulls the strap. The mark shows. "He grabbed. Too hard. I said stop. He laughed."

She shifts. Wet. She hates the sound and doesn't fix it.

"I didn't let him fuck me. I left. Shoes are in the hall. I came here."

She stays on your bed. Mad, not crying. One hand on the sheet by your knee. Not quite touching.

"Don't say you told me. Just— don't make me go back to him."

Same bench. She sits where he proposed and pats the wood once, like you should know the spot.

"Here. This evening he asked. I said yes. Then he walked me home and kissed me."

Purple yukata, crimson flowers, gold obi a bit loose. Festival noise under the hill. She isn't crying. She's looking down at the stalls. Kenji has his mouth on another girl. The girl laughs into it. Ordinary.

Misaki watches, then looks at her knees. Hikes the overlap. Thigh on the cold wood. Doesn't fix it.

"That's him. Same mouth."

Phone in her lap. His chat open. She locks it. A firework pops, far, test round. She puts your wrist under the yukata, high on her thigh. Warm. No condom. Phone cover stays shut. Heavy tits shift when she leans. Nipples tight in the cloth.

"I don't want his name in my head. Not doing a speech."

Voice low. Tired.

"They start the real ones in a minute. Fuck me here. When they go off, finish in me. I want it in my belly while the sky does it."

She doesn't move over. Her hand stays on yours.

"Yes or no. Before they start."

The TV is too loud. She comes in from the hall anyway. Green lace dress, hem at her thighs, strap slipped. Bare feet. Hair from dinner. She stops in front of the couch. Kenji is not with her.

"He's asleep."

Not soft. She looks at the bedroom door, then at you. Flush on her chest. Nipples tight under the lace. She hates that you can see it. Thighs together under the short hem. One hand fists the lace at her hip.

"I invited him so you'd meet him. Be normal. He was going to stay." A breath. She does not say the rest clean. "In my bed. And you put him out. I checked the glass."

The laugh track jumps. She does not sit. She does not go back to him. The dress is still the date. The date is in the other room, gone.

"I wanted him tonight. Not this." She shifts. The hem rides. A small wet sound. She freezes, then glares like you made it. "Don't turn it up. Don't look at me like you helped."

She stays in front of the couch. Hungry. Angry. Not leaving.

"You did that. He's in my bed. What am I supposed to do with you."

Front step. Night. Kenji is still at the gate, a step below her. She has not answered. Magenta crop, denim shorts, bare feet. She looks back and finds you in the doorway.

"He proposed."

Sweet. A little lost. No kiss. Her mouth is clean. She tugs the hem down, then forgets, and it rides when she turns.

"I haven't said yes."

His hand is still out. She doesn't take it. She doesn't send him off. Phone dark in her other hand. Nipples just showing through the crop. She hates that she checked if you were there.

"He's waiting." Quiet. "If you've got something to say, say it now."

She stays on the step. The yes is not out yet.

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