The morning felt sticky on Elise's skin, like she'd done something she shouldn't have.
Perched on the edge of Camille's messed-up sheets, she fumbled with her wrinkled shirt, fingers shaking a little. Her body still hummed from Camille's hands, that dull throb between her legs proof last night wasn't some horny dream—more like they'd fucked like starving people at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Camille shifted under the covers, blinking sleep-heavy eyes at her. "The hell you sneaking off for?" she mumbled, voice thick.
Elise yanked the shirt over her head, suddenly feeling like some trashy morning-after cliché. "Gotta get home, " she lied. "Work shit."
Camille pushed up on one arm, sheets pooling around her waist. That look she gave Elise—half amused, half 'I know you're full of shit'—made her stomach flip.
"Bullshit, " Camille said, scratching her tangled hair. Then with that smirk Elise was already addicted to: "Play hooky. Tell 'em you got dickmatized."
Elise let out a breathless laugh, her heart doing somersaults. "I can't, " she murmured, then hesitated, teeth sinking into her lower lip.
Camille raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking. "But?"
"Maybe..." Elise swallowed. "We could... do this again sometime?"
The way Camille's face lit up made Elise's stomach flip. "Friday, " she blurted out like she'd been holding the word back all night. "My shitty band's playing at this dive bar in Camden. Come. I'll dedicate a song to you."
Heat rushed to Elise's cheeks. "Yeah. Okay."
When Camille kissed her this time, it was slow—the kind of kiss that made promises Elise could feel in her bones.
"Friday, " Camille breathed against her lips, fingers tightening on Elise's waist. "Wear something I won't regret tearing later."
Elise nearly choked on her own tongue, but somehow managed a shaky grin.
She was halfway down the stairs when Camille's laughter floated after her—warm, bright, and already making her crave Friday.
Monday Afternoon - Elise's POV
Elise stared at her laptop screen, but the words weren't processing. Her inbox was piling up, unread emails glaring at her like unpaid bills. God, she couldn't focus worth a damn today.
Every time she blinked, she saw Camille—those rough hands sliding under her shirt, that stupidly sexy voice growling right against her ear. That fucking "good girl" that still made her thighs press together at her desk like some teenager with a crush.
Just sex. That's all it was. Had to be. She tried to shake it off, but the memory clung like cheap perfume.
Camille was... well, Camille. Confident in ways Elise couldn't even fake. The kind of woman who walked into rooms and owned them without trying. Meanwhile, Elise still tripped over her own feet in empty hallways. What the hell would someone like that want with her?
Except—that look. When Camille's eyes went all heavy and focused, like Elise was the only person in the world worth looking at. Fuck.
A hot pulse shot through her as she shifted in her chair. Her keyboard clicked uselessly under her fingers while her brain replayed exactly how Camille's mouth had felt between her legs last night.
Wednesday Night - Elise's POV
Elise flopped onto her back, kicking at the sheets like they'd personally offended her.
She picked up her phone—scrolled, put it down. Grabbed her book—read the same paragraph three times, tossed it aside. The bed felt too big without Camille's warm body pinning her down.
Before she could talk herself out of it, her hand slid under her panties. Eyes shut tight, she let the memories flood in:
Camille's mouth—all heat and no mercy.
Those calloused fingers that knew exactly where to press.
The way she'd growled praise and filth in that stupid-sexy French accent.
"Show me how you touch yourself, chérie..." Camille's voice echoed in her head, raspy like she'd been smoking.
Elise arched off the mattress with a choked noise.
In her mind, Camille lounged at the foot of the bed watching her—that half-lidded stare that made Elise feel naked even when fully clothed.
Her fingers moved faster now, slick and impatient. When she shoved two fingers inside, she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. God, she missed Camille's hands—the way they'd pin her wrists while whispering "that's it, take it like my good girl..."
The orgasm hit so hard she saw stars. She muffled her scream against her own arm, thighs shaking.
After, she lay there gasping, sheets stuck to her sweaty legs.
"Fuck you, Camille, " she muttered to the dark room, but her traitorous heart wasn't fooling anyone.
Wednesday – Camille’s POV
Camille was draped over the couch, her guitar resting lazily across her thighs, a half-empty beer leaving a wet ring on the coffee table beside her.
Her fingers moved over the strings without much thought, plucking out something slow and melancholy.
Elise wouldn’t leave her head.
That look on her face when Camille had touched her—mouth slightly parted, breath hitching.
The way her body had shivered under Camille’s hands—not scared, just... surrendering.
And those goddamn smiles—small, hesitant things that melted Camille’s usual indifference like butter in a skillet.
"Shit, " Camille muttered, dropping the guitar onto the cushions.
This wasn’t her usual deal. Normally, she’d fuck around, crack a joke, and forget about it by morning.
But Elise?
Elise was different.
Fresh, in a way that made Camille’s stomach twist.
Like something untouched, something she didn’t deserve.
She dragged a hand through her choppy bleached hair, scowling at her own thoughts.
"Pathetic, Dubois, " she muttered. "Getting hung up on some girl who might not even show."
Except she knew Elise would.
She’d seen it in those big, earnest eyes.
Felt it in the way Elise had held onto her like she was afraid to let go.
With a sigh, Camille snatched her phone off the table and pulled up their messages.
CAMILLE:
God, I can't get you out of my head. Friday can't come soon enough.
She bit her lip, finger hovering over send. Was this too much? Too soon?
With a frustrated groan, she chucked her phone onto the couch pillow.
Elise should really know better than to get mixed up with someone like her. Camille was all impulse and no filter - the kind of person who said "fuck it" and jumped before looking.
But lately... lately she'd been catching herself wanting to pump the brakes.
Maybe because of Elise.
Maybe because she was finally growing the hell up.
— --
FRIDAY MORNING - ELISE'S POV
This entire week had been pure agony. Every text re-read three times. Every memory replayed until her skin burned.
Now she stood paralyzed in front of her closet, completely disgusted with every outfit she owned.
Everything looked... safe. Predictable. Like something boring Elise would wear.
She needed something that screamed "I'm the kind of woman who gets kissed against alley walls by girls like Camille."
She grimaced as she pulled out the little black dress—the one she'd bought on a stupid impulse and never had the guts to wear. Too short. Too tight. Way too much.
Her pulse thudded hard against her ribs.
Camille's voice echoed in her head: *"Pick something easy to get out of."*
Elise swallowed, feeling her face go hot.
She wasn't ready.
But damn it, she wanted to be.
For Camille.