Chapter 16. Adrian’s Best Friend

Ava

The house was dead quiet when I woke up, no clatter of pans, no low murmur of Adrian’s voice, no Mom humming off key to the radio while she packed lunches.

Just the faint smell of last night’s sex still clinging to the hallway like smoke. I lay there a minute, staring at the ceiling, thighs sticky, pulse still thrumming from the dream where he’d had me bent over that bed instead.

I rolled out, grabbed fresh underwear, black lace, the pair he hadn’t seen yet, and locked myself in the bathroom.

The shower ran scalding. I let it burn, soaping slow, fingers tracing the faint bruises he’d left on my hips in the garage. I shaved everything smooth, just because. Just in case.

Dressed in the shortest denim skirt I owned and a cropped white tank that showed the underside of my bra when I lifted my arms. No hoodie today. Let the sun hit my skin. Let him see.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Coffee pot cold. A single sticky note on the fridge in