The grainy video feed flickered on Siham’s laptop screen, Ehab’s pixelated face bundled in a parka so thick he looked like a marshmallow with eyes. Somewhere in snowy Canada, he was braving a blizzard just to talk to her, his breath fogging up in little clouds as he grinned through the cold.
“Miss you, Si,” he said, voice crackling through the shitty connection. “You holding up okay down there in Oklahoma? No tornadoes sweeping you away yet?”
Siham forced a smile, her fingers tightening around the edge of her desk. “Not yet. Just the usual chaos. Miss you too, Ehab. More than you know.” Her voice hitched on the last word, and she prayed he didn’t notice. The guilt was a living thing in her chest, clawing at her ribs. She’d been slipping lately—little flirtations, stolen glances, moments she swore meant nothing but left her burning with shame.
“You better stay out of trouble,” Ehab teased, his dark eyes softening even through the lag. “I’m counting on you to be my good girl ‘til I get back.”
Her throat tightened. “Always,” she lied, the word tasting like ash. “I promise.”
The call ended with a static pop, and Siham slammed the laptop shut, burying her face in her hands. She was a liar. A fraud. And the worst part? She wasn’t sure she could stop.
The door to her room burst open before she could spiral further, and in stumbled Shiksya and Shiwani, her roommates and resident agents of chaos. Shiksya, all sharp cheekbones and crimson lipstick, was poured into a skintight black dress that left little to the imagination. Shiwani, her partner-in-crime, rocked a metallic crop top and leather pants, a half-empty bottle of vodka swinging from her manicured fingers. They were already buzzing, their laughter loud enough to wake the dead.
“Oh, look at this sad little puppy,” Shiksya drawled, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Still pining over your long-distance lover boy? Pathetic.”
“Seriously, Siham, get a grip,” Shiwani added, taking a swig from the bottle before thrusting it toward her. “You’re wasting your hotness on video calls. Live a little. We’ve got a rager starting in, like, ten minutes. Get your ass dressed.”
Siham rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, okay? I just wanna sleep.”
“Sleep?” Shiksya barked out a laugh, striding over to yank Siham up by the arm. “Bitch, please. You’re not a nun. You’re coming out there, and you’re gonna look so fuckable even the walls will want a piece of you. Let’s go.”
Despite her protests, Siham found herself shoved in front of her closet, Shiwani rifling through her clothes with ruthless efficiency. “This. Wear this,” Shiwani commanded, tossing a slinky red dress at her. “And don’t even think about arguing. We’re the bosses of this apartment, and you’re our sexy little minion tonight.”
Siham sighed, knowing resistance was futile. These two were forces of nature, and she was just a leaf caught in their storm. “Fine. But I’m not drinking. And I’m definitely not flirting.”
Shiksya winked, her grin wicked. “Sure, babe. Keep telling yourself that.”
---
An hour later, their apartment was a sweaty, pulsing mess. Bodies packed every inch of the small space, the bass from the speakers rattling the cheap furniture. The air reeked of beer, weed, and desperation, and Siham was already regretting every life choice that led her here. She sipped a watered-down vodka cranberry—her resolve against drinking had lasted all of twenty minutes under Shiksya’s relentless pressure—and scanned the crowd, trying to stay invisible.
That’s when she saw him. Cristian. Shiksya’s boyfriend Juraj’s roommate, all six-foot-something of pure, infuriating arrogance. He leaned against the kitchen counter across the room, a beer in one hand, his dark eyes already locked on her like a predator sizing up prey. His smirk was a weapon, sharp and dangerous, and Siham felt heat crawl up her neck despite herself. She turned away, heart pounding, but it was too late. He was already cutting through the crowd, his presence commanding attention without effort.
“Well, well,” Cristian drawled as he reached her, his voice low and teasing over the thumping music. “If it isn’t little miss goody-two-shoes. Didn’t think you’d show up to a party like this. Thought you were too busy being loyal or some shit.”
Siham bristled, crossing her arms to hide the way her pulse raced. “And I didn’t think you’d show up anywhere without a mirror to admire yourself in, but here we are. What do you want, Cristian?”
He grinned, stepping closer, the heat of him invading her space. “Oh, come on, Siham. Don’t play hard to get. I can see it in your eyes—you’re dying to break a few rules tonight. Good girl gone bad, huh?”
“Fuck off,” she snapped, but her voice lacked conviction. The alcohol buzzed in her veins, the music thrummed through her bones, and Cristian’s gaze was a challenge she couldn’t ignore. “I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing.”
“Sure you’re not,” he shot back, his tone dripping with mockery. “That’s why you’re blushing like a schoolgirl caught with her crush. Admit it—you’ve been thinking about me.”
Her jaw tightened, but she couldn’t deny the spark his words ignited. “You’re delusional. And a dick. Why don’t you go bother someone who gives a shit?”
Cristian laughed, a rich, dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Because no one else here is half as fun to mess with. Come on, Siham. One dance. Prove you’re not as boring as you pretend to be.”
She should’ve walked away. Should’ve told him to shove it. But the crowd pressed in, the heat and noise drowning out her better judgment, and before she knew it, she was letting him pull her into the chaos of dancing bodies. His hands found her waist, bold and unapologetic, and she hated how much she liked it.
“You’re trouble,” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the music as their bodies moved too close, too in sync.
“And you love it,” he whispered back, his breath hot against her ear. “Don’t lie to me, Siham. I can feel you giving in.”
She wanted to argue, to push him away, but the truth burned in her chest. She was slipping, and he knew it.
---
It wasn’t long before the tension snapped. They stumbled into the cramped bathroom, the door slamming shut behind them, the muffled bass still vibrating through the walls. Cristian’s hands were everywhere, rough and urgent, and Siham’s mind screamed at her to stop even as her body betrayed her. The mirror reflected her flushed face, her disheveled hair, and she hated the woman staring back at her.
“This is a mistake,” she gasped, even as she pulled him closer, her nails digging into his shoulders. The cheap tile was cold against her back, the sink digging into her hip as he pressed against her, his mouth hot and relentless on her neck.
“Then why’re you still here?” Cristian growled, his voice thick with lust as his fingers slid under the hem of her dress. “Tell me to stop, Siham. Go on. I dare you.”
She couldn’t. The heat, the need, the sheer recklessness of it all drowned out the guilt—for now. Her hands fumbled with his belt, desperate and clumsy, and every touch was a spark to gasoline. It was fast, messy, raw—his breath ragged, her moans bitten back, the urgency of stolen moments fueling every move. Her body arched against his, chasing release even as her mind screamed *Ehab, Ehab, Ehab*. When it was over, the silence was deafening, broken only by their heavy breathing.
Siham pushed him away, yanking her dress back into place with trembling hands. “This never happened,” she hissed, her voice sharp but brittle. “You hear me? Never.”
Cristian smirked, adjusting his shirt with infuriating calm. “Whatever you say, princess. But we both know you’ll be back for more.”
She shoved past him, ignoring the taunt, and slipped back into the party. The lights were too bright, the music too loud, her skin still buzzing with the memory of his touch. She grabbed a drink, downed it in one go, and swore to herself it would never happen again.
But deep down, in the darkest part of her, she knew she was lying.
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