⚠️ This is a dark, thrilling lesbian romance that explores survival, lust, and the blurred line between love and ruin.
Trigger Warnings: Substance abuse, graphic sexual content, emotional trauma, explicit language.
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Mia woke up to pale dawn light slipping through the thin curtains, the air cold against her skin. For a few seconds, she just lay there, her mind flickering with heat and embarrassment her body still aching from what she'd done alone in the dark, the way she'd pressed that toy deeper and deeper, gasping Ty's name in her head.

She could almost smell Ty's cologne, that warm, musky scent lingering in her mind like a ghost. She pressed her thighs together, a low whimper in her throat. The memory of Ty's voice, low and teasing, still hummed in her ears. "You feel that, baby? Take it for me."

Her cheeks burned. She wasn't sure if it was shame or need. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't stop.

She sat up slowly, her small, neat room a familiar comfort posters lined up perfectly on the walls, every drawer lined with newspaper scraps, the worn rug at her feet scrubbed until it was threadbare. She pulled on an oversized hoodie, letting it swallow her frame as she stared at herself in the cracked mirror. Her lips were still swollen from biting them in the dark.

Get it together.

She pushed open the door. Sour alcohol and stale cigarette smoke slapped her in the face. Her mother was sprawled on the couch, mouth open, bottle half-empty on the table. Ray was in the kitchen, hunched over a pile of bills and ziplock baggies dusted with white powder, his thin mustache twitching as he counted.

"Morning," Mia muttered, backpack slung over her shoulder.

Ray didn't even look up. "Off to play good little girl?" he sneered, a crooked grin flashing.

Mia said nothing, shifting uncomfortably under his leer. "Best watch yourself out there," he said, his voice oily. "Streets don't care if you're pretty."

Mia's stomach twisted. She turned and left without another word, slamming the door behind her.

Outside, the early morning air was crisp, the faint smell of wet concrete and exhaust settling over the cracked sidewalks. She shivered, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie as she walked to the bus stop.

The bus was late. Mia paced the cracked pavement, head down, mind racing. She could still feel that toy, the way it stretched her open, the slick heat between her legs. She hated how badly she wanted to see Ty again—how her body ached for her like it was wired to.

Finally, the bus creaked up, brakes squealing. Mia climbed aboard, slipping into a seat by the window. Her eyes were heavy, but she stayed alert, her fingers tapping against her thigh.

Halfway to work, a man stepped on the bus, nervous as hell—eyes darting, hands fidgeting in his hoodie pocket. Mia's gut twisted. She knew that look. She watched as he glanced around, the way his shoulders hunched.

He pulled a gun out so fast, she barely had time to react. "Everyone, down," he said, voice shaking. "Give me your cash and your phones—fast."

Mia's heart thudded. She sank low in her seat, fingers trembling as she fumbled with her phone. The man's eyes were wide, sweat beading on his forehead as he snatched wallets and purses, his hand shaking so bad she thought he might drop the gun.

When he got to her, she didn't even look up, just shoved her phone into his hand. "Please," she whispered. "Just take it."

He did, fast and sloppy, then stumbled off the bus like a scared kid.

Mia's breath came in gasps, her hands ice cold. She wiped them on her jeans, trying to calm the jittery panic crawling up her spine. Get it together. She had to work. She couldn't let that shit ruin her day.

The bus dropped her a few blocks from the diner. She walked the cracked pavement with shaky steps, finally pushing open the diner door. The little bell overhead jingled in the stale, greasy air. Burnt coffee and fryer oil clung to everything—comforting in its own way.

She clocked in behind the counter, fingers sticky on the old register. 6:47 a.m. She tied her apron tight, forcing a small smile as the early morning regulars trickled in.

Her coworker Jess popped her head out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag. "Morning, Mia. Slow start today."

Mia nodded, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Yeah," she said. "Guess everyone's still sleeping off the weekend."

The bell jingled again, sharp and sudden. Mia's heart jumped.

A group of people walked in loud, laughing. In the middle of them was Ty. Her eyes were dark and steady, the corners of her mouth lifted in that slow, confident grin. She wore a white tee layered under a puffer vest, black cargo pants slung low on her hips, and crisp sneakers that looked brand new. Gold chains glinted under the diner lights, the faint scent of her cologne hitting Mia all at once.

No, don't look up. Just act normal.

Her brain scrambled:

If I look up, will she see how messed up I look?
Maybe if I don't smile, she'll just pass by.
No. Don't chicken out. You're supposed to be confident.
You're a mess. She's way out of your league.
But I'm sexy asf too. Stop it. Just go talk to her like a normal person.

Mia swallowed, pushed her shoulders back, and looked up.

Ty was wearing a crisp white tee under a black puffer jacket, dark jeans slung low on her hips, and fresh white sneakers that looked like they'd just come out the box. Two thin gold chains glinted around her neck, catching the flicker of the neon sign outside. Her hair was perfectly twisted, edge-up clean, the whole look careless but deliberate—like she'd woken up knowing she owned the world. Her eyes found Mia's and didn't look away.

Mia felt her breath catch as Ty walked in slow, a lazy grin playing on her lips. Ty's friends moved past her, sliding into a booth. One of them, a dude in a varsity jacket, leaned over the counter, smirking.
"Damn, you work here? That's cute," he said, eyes running down her apron. "What else you got besides coffee, beautiful?"
Mia raised a brow, fighting the flush creeping up her neck. "Just the menu. You want something or not?"
The guy leaned in closer, that grin turning cocky. "Yeah, I want your number."

Ty stepped in smooth, her voice cutting in like a velvet blade. "She's not giving you her number," she said, but she didn't sound mad—more amused, like she was ready to play. "She's got better taste."

The guy laughed, holding up his hands. "Alright, alright," he said, backing off with a shrug.

"Besides if anyone was gonna get her number it would be me right?" Ty said jokingly.

Mia swallowed, her heart racing at the gentle weight of Ty's touch. "Yeah?" she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yeah," Ty murmured, her thumb tracing a slow circle on Mia's skin. "You're coming skating Friday, right? Everyone'll be there. I wanna see if you're as smooth on wheels as you are behind this counter."

Mia hesitated, caught between nerves and excitement. "You're really just tryna see me bust my ass," she said, a shaky laugh in her voice.

Ty's grin widened, her eyes soft but hungry. "Nah," she said, her voice a low promise. "I'm tryna see how bold you are."

Mia held her gaze, her lips parting in a small, breathless smile. "Alright," she said finally. "I'll be there."

"Good," Ty said, her voice soft but certain. "I'll come get you. Friday."

For a second, the noise of the diner faded away. It was just them two girls caught in a slow, simmering pull. Ty's fingers ghosted over Mia's hand again before she turned to leave with her friends, her cologne lingering in the warm air.

Mia watched her go, her body still buzzing, heart pounding with something that felt like promise.