Tuesday light slices through the blinds, landing hot across Nova's face. She groans, rolls, finds empty sheets beside her. The shower's running in Chloe's bathroom. Steam curls under the door.
Liam's still in bed, half-awake, his body heavy with sleep. Chloe pads back from the bathroom, naked, still damp from rinsing off, a fresh balloon—pink, glossy, tight—already clenched in her fist. She doesn't say anything. Just slides under the covers, presses her mouth to his chest, her hand finding him soft and warm and sleepy.
"Morning," she whispers against his skin.
He hums, eyes still closed. "S'too early."
She doesn't answer. Her lips trace down his stomach, slow, deliberate, her fingers wrapping around him as he stirs, hardening under her touch. She takes him in her mouth, warm and wet, her tongue working the underside, and his breath catches. His hand finds her hair, not pulling, just resting there as she moves, slow and patient, waking him the only way that matters right now. He's fully hard by the time she pulls off, his hips lifting slightly, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning.
"There. Now you're up."
He laughs, breathless. "Yeah. I'm up."
She kisses his forehead, then slips off the bed and heads back to the shower, leaving him groaning and hard under the sheets. The bathroom door clicks shut behind her.
The water's still running, hot and steaming, fogging the mirror. Chloe steps in, letting the spray hit her shoulders, her back, the ache still humming between her thighs from the night before. She's sore. She's satisfied. She's not done.
She picks up the pink balloon from the shower floor—a 12-inch, tight and bouncy—and sits down on it, straddling it under the running water. The latex is slick against her, warm from the steam, and she settles her weight onto it, feels the give and the tension, the smooth surface pressing against her cunt. Her eyes close. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. She rocks, slow, the balloon shifting under her, the water sluicing over her skin, and a moan builds in her throat that she swallows down.
The door opens.
Nova steps into the bathroom, hair mussed, wearing nothing. Her eyes land on Chloe straddling the balloon in the shower, water streaming over her, lips parted, hips moving in small, desperate circles. She coughs.
Chloe startles. Her hips jerk down hard. The balloon bursts under her with a sharp *crack*, and she yelps, losing her balance, her hands slapping the shower floor as she catches herself. The shredded latex clings to her thighs, pink ribbons against wet skin.
Nova smiles. "Good morning to you too."
Chloe blushes, laughing, breathless. "I—shit, you scared me—"
Nova steps into the shower, water hitting her shoulders, darkening her hair. She reaches down, takes Chloe's hand, helps her to her feet. Her palm presses against Chloe's lower back, steadying her. Her other hand slides between Chloe's thighs, fingers finding slick heat, the remains of the balloon sticking to her skin.
"You were having fun without me," Nova murmurs, her mouth brushing Chloe's earlobe. She bites it, soft, then harder.
Chloe's breath hitches. Her knees weaken, and she leans back against Nova, hands finding the glass shower wall as Nova's fingers work her slit, slow and deliberate, circling her clit with practiced pressure. Chloe's body is still aching from last night—every nerve raw, oversensitive, hungry—and she's already so close, so fucking close, and she can't help it, she comes against Nova's hand, gasping, her forehead pressed to the cool glass, her hips grinding down.
Behind them, the bathroom door swings open wider. Liam stands there, his cock hard, his boxers tented, his eyes fixed on Chloe pressed against the shower glass, Nova's hand buried between her thighs. He doesn't move. He just watches.
Nova's mouth finds Chloe's ear again, her voice low, possessive: "Liam. Come here. I want you to watch while I eat her out."
He steps into the steam. The shower spray catches his chest, his stomach, the water darkening the waistband of his boxers. His cock strains against the fabric, but he doesn't touch himself—still sore, still tender from the night's work. He just watches, his breathing shallow.
Nova turns Chloe gently, pressing her back against the glass, and drops to her knees. The water streams over her shoulders, into her eyes, but she doesn't blink. She leans in, her tongue flat against Chloe's cunt, slow and savoring, tasting her, drinking her. Chloe's head falls back, a moan tearing from her throat, her fingers tangling in Nova's wet hair. Nova's hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider, her tongue working deeper, faster, until Chloe's whole body is shaking, her hips rocking against Nova's mouth, and she comes again, crying out, her voice cracking.
Nova rises, water streaming down her face, a satisfied smirk. Her hand cups Chloe's jaw, tilting her head, and she kisses her, slow and deep, letting Chloe taste herself on Nova's tongue. Chloe moans into the kiss, weak, her knees buckling, but Nova holds her up, one arm wrapped around her waist.
"Well," Nova breathes, pulling back. "I think it's time for us to use the shower."
They help Chloe out, steadying her, and she sits on the closed toilet seat, her legs trembling, her skin flushed. The water keeps running, steam filling the small room. She expects to watch them fuck. She expects Nova to take Liam right there, on the shower floor, while she watches. She settles back, ready for the show.
Instead, Liam steps forward, grabs Nova's hand, and drops to his knees in front of her.
Nova's eyes widen, just for a second. "Oh."
He doesn't say anything. He just leans in, his mouth finding her cunt, his tongue working her slit the way he's learned—from Chloe, from Nova herself, from the night before. His hands grip her thighs, pulling her closer, and Nova's head rolls back, her hand finding his wet hair, gripping tight. Her breath comes faster. Her hips grind against his mouth. She doesn't hold back—she lets herself feel it, lets the pleasure build, lets her moans fill the bathroom, bouncing off the tile.
Chloe watches, her fingers gripping the toilet seat, her breath coming shallow. She watches Liam's jaw work, watches Nova's thighs start to shake, watches her girlfriend's face twist with pleasure, and she feels it in her own body, a phantom echo, a shared pulse.
"Fuck," Nova gasps. "Fuck, Liam—"
He doesn't stop. He doesn't speed up. He works her slow, deliberate, his tongue circling her clit, his fingers pressing inside her, and when she comes, it's a scream, raw and unbroken, her body arching, her hand fisting his hair. He stays until she stops shaking, then pulls back, wiping his mouth, his eyes meeting Chloe's.
Chloe's staring at him like she's never seen him before. Like he just did something that rewired something in her chest.
The water runs cold, then hot again. They rinse off, helping each other, washing the sweat and the cum and the shredded latex from their skin. Nova steals Liam's shampoo and uses half of it. Chloe laughs, her voice hoarse, and wraps herself in a towel. They dry off in a tangle of limbs and damp hair, standing in the steam-fogged bathroom, the air thick and quiet.
Chloe wraps her arms around both of them, pulling them together. Her voice is soft, raw, honest in a way she didn't expect.
"I want to keep you both."
Liam's breath catches. Nova's lips part.
"I mean it," Chloe says, her eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "I want to try. Not just... this. I want dates. I want mornings. I want to figure out what we are. All three of us."
Nova's quiet for a long moment. Then she nods, slow, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah. Okay."
Liam looks between them. His hand finds Chloe's. His other hand finds Nova's. "We'll go slow," he says. "We'll figure it out."
Chloe grins, wet-eyed, and kisses his cheek, then Nova's, then his again. "Good. Because I'm not letting either of you go."
The three of them stand there, wet and wrapped in towels, the shower still dripping behind them, the morning light softening through the fogged glass.
Nova tilts her head back, letting the steam curl into her lungs, and squeezes their hands like she's testing if they're real.
The bathroom fan hums overhead, pulling the last of the fog toward the ceiling. Chloe's palm is warm and damp against hers, Liam's fingers laced through her other hand, and Nova lets herself feel it—the weight of two people holding her like she matters.
"I don't know how to do this," Nova says, her voice quiet, stripped of its usual confidence. She looks at Chloe. "I know how to film. I know how to perform. I don't know how to... be someone's girlfriend. Someone's—" She stops. Shakes her head.
"Neither do I," Chloe says, and there's no pity in her voice, just truth. "I've never done this before. Not like this."
"Me neither," Liam adds, and his voice is soft, almost surprised, like he's still processing that this is real. "I've never had a girlfriend. And now I have—" He looks between them, his ears reddening. "Two."
Nova laughs, a surprised, breathless sound. "Yeah. That's..."
"A lot," Chloe finishes, grinning. "It's a lot. But I meant what I said. I want to try."
Nova's eyes move between them, lingering on Chloe's smile, on Liam's flushed cheeks, on the way their fingers are still tangled together. She squeezes once more, then lets go, stepping back to grab a towel. "Okay," she says, and her voice firms back into something steadier. "Okay. Then we try."
They dry off in a quiet rhythm—Liam first, then Chloe, then Nova, passing towels and bumping shoulders in the narrow bathroom. The shower drips, the last of the water circling the drain. Chloe wraps her hair in a towel, twisting it on top of her head, and Nova watches the curve of her neck, the way water still beads on her shoulders.
"So," Nova says, leaning against the sink. "What does 'trying' look like? For today?"
Chloe pauses, the towel bunched in her hands. "Breakfast. Together. Like—actually together. Not in our rooms, not in the hallway. At a table."
"I could eat," Liam says, and his stomach growls on cue, making Chloe laugh.
"Settled," she says. "Breakfast. Then we figure out the rest."
Nova nods, slow. "I know a place. Off campus. Quiet. They do crepes."
"Crepes," Chloe repeats, testing the word. "I've never had a crepe."
Nova's eyebrows lift. "Never?"
"Never."
"Then we're definitely going." Nova pushes off the sink, grabbing her own towel. "You're about to have your life changed."
Chloe beams. "Good. I like having my life changed."
They file out of the bathroom, leaving wet footprints on the tile. Chloe's room is still a disaster—balloon shreds, rumpled sheets, a water glass on the nightstand. Morning light slants through the blinds, cutting stripes across the floor.
Nova pulls on her jeans from last night, a loose sweater she finds crumpled in Chloe's laundry pile. "Borrowing this," she says, and Chloe waves a hand, already digging through her dresser.
Liam finds his boxers, his jeans, his hoodie—still damp from the shower, but wearable. He pulls them on, the fabric clinging to his skin, and watches Chloe slip into a sundress, yellow with small white flowers, the hem brushing her thighs. She catches him looking and grins.
"Like what you see?"
His ears go red. "Always."
Nova watches the exchange, something soft flickering across her face. She doesn't look away. She lets herself watch.
They gather at the door, Chloe's hand finding Liam's, her other hand reaching for Nova's. Nova takes it, her fingers cool and dry, and the three of them stand there, a triangle of damp hair and borrowed clothes and nervous hope.
"Ready?" Chloe asks.
Nova nods. Liam squeezes her hand.
They step out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind them, and walk together toward the stairs, toward the morning, toward whatever comes next.
Chloe's thumb traces a slow circle on Nova's knuckle, and Nova's chest tightens—not with fear, but with the quiet shock of being held, of being chosen, of stepping into something unnameable.
The hallway hums with distant voices from other rooms, the muffled bass of someone's speaker, the clatter of a door down the hall. Chloe's thumb keeps moving, that slow circle, like she's grounding herself in the feel of Nova's skin.
Nova's breath comes shallow. She's held hands before. She's touched strangers in the dark, performed intimacy for cameras, whispered words she didn't mean into anonymous ears. But this—this small, quiet gesture, a girl she barely knew yesterday tracing circles on her knuckle like she has all the time in the world—this undoes her.
"Hey," Chloe says, soft. "You okay?"
Nova blinks. Looks up. Liam is watching her too, his gray-blue eyes soft, his hand warm where it's still laced through hers. She's at the center of something she doesn't have a name for, and it terrifies her.
"Yeah," she says, and her voice cracks on the word. She clears her throat. "Yeah. I'm—I just—" She stops. Laughs, a little helpless. "I don't know what to do with my hands."
Chloe's smile is gentle. "You hold them." She squeezes Nova's fingers. "Like this."
Nova looks down at their joined hands. At Liam's, wrapped around hers. At the three of them, standing in the dingy hallway light, still damp from the shower, wearing borrowed clothes and last night's mistakes.
"Right," she says, quiet. "Like this."
Liam's thumb strokes across her knuckles, mirroring Chloe's motion, and Nova feels something crack open in her chest—a door she didn't know she'd locked.
"Okay," she says, and her voice is steadier now. "Okay. Let's go get crepes."
Chloe grins, bright and genuine, and tugs them toward the stairs. The stairwell echoes with their footsteps, the slap of sandals on concrete, Chloe's laugh bouncing off the walls as she nearly trips over her own feet. Liam catches her elbow, steadying her, and she flashes him a grateful look that lingers a beat too long.
Outside, the morning air is cool and clean, carrying the smell of damp pavement and cut grass. The campus is waking up—a few students shuffling toward the dining hall, a guy on a bike ringing his bell as he weaves past. Chloe lifts her face to the sun, eyes closing for a moment, and Nova watches the light catch the gold in her hair.
The walk to the crepe place takes fifteen minutes. They take the long way, through a small park where a fountain trickles and a pair of squirrels chase each other around a trash can. Chloe chatters about nothing—the shape of a cloud, the way the fountain sounds like a waterfall in a movie, whether crepes are technically pancakes or not. Liam offers quiet responses, his hand still in Nova's, his thumb tracing absent patterns on her skin.
Nova doesn't say much. She listens. She watches. She feels the sun on her shoulders, the weight of their hands in hers, the strange, terrifying gift of being seen.
The crepe place is a narrow storefront tucked between a used bookstore and a laundromat, its windows fogged with steam. A handwritten sign in the window promises "Les Meilleures Crêpes en Ville" and a string of fairy lights hangs crookedly above the door.
"This is it," Nova says, stopping outside. "They do a honey-lemon one that'll change your life."
Chloe peers through the window, her breath fogging the glass. "It's so cozy."
"Wait till you taste it."
They file inside. The air is warm and sweet, heavy with butter and sugar and something floral. A few tables are occupied—an older couple sharing a newspaper, a student buried in a textbook, a girl with purple hair scrolling on her phone. The woman behind the counter looks up, her face breaking into a smile when she sees Nova.
"Nova! It's been too long." She's maybe forty, with silver-streaked hair pulled into a messy bun and flour dusted across her apron. "You brought friends."
"Hey, Margot." Nova's voice softens. "This is Chloe. And Liam. I told them about your crepes."
Margot's eyes crinkle. "Well, then you've come to the right place. Sit anywhere—I'll bring you menus."
They settle at a table by the window, the morning light slanting through the glass, catching dust motes suspended in the air. Chloe slides into the booth first, and Nova slides in next to her, close enough that their shoulders brush. Liam takes the seat across from them, and for a moment, no one speaks.
The silence isn't awkward. It's full. Like the air itself is holding its breath.
Chloe reaches across the table, palm up. Liam takes her hand. Then he reaches for Nova's, and she gives it, and the three of them sit there, a triangle of fingers and pulse points and the weight of a morning that feels like a beginning.
"This is weird, right?" Chloe says, but she's smiling. "Like, objectively weird. We had sex eight hours ago."
"Twelve," Nova corrects. "I checked the clock."
"Twelve hours ago. And now we're holding hands at a crepe place." Chloe laughs, shaking her head. "I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I," Liam says quietly.
Nova looks at them—Chloe's hazel eyes bright with nervous hope, Liam's gray-blue steady and soft, the way his thumb keeps moving across her skin like he's afraid she'll disappear. She thinks about all the mornings she's woken up alone, in strangers' beds, in her own bed, in hotel rooms she couldn't afford, with nothing but the taste of last night's bourbon and the hollow echo of a camera shutter.
This is different. This is terrifying. This is the first morning in years she doesn't want to escape.
"We figure it out," Nova says, and her voice comes out steadier than she expected. "One crepe at a time."
Chloe's smile widens. "I like that."
"One crepe at a time," Liam repeats, testing the words, and something in his expression settles, like he's found a handhold on a steep climb.
Margot arrives with menus and a carafe of coffee, setting them down with a warm smile. "Take your time. I'll check on you in a bit."
Chloe grabs a menu immediately, scanning it with exaggerated seriousness. "Okay. Honey-lemon. That's the one, right?"
"That's the one," Nova confirms.
"And what are you getting?"
Nova considers. "Strawberry Nutella. With whipped cream."
"Good choice." Chloe turns to Liam. "What about you?"
Liam studies the menu, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. Everything looks good."
"Get the savory one," Nova suggests. "Ham and cheese. It's incredible."
"Ham and cheese," he repeats, nodding. "Okay."
Chloe sets down her menu. "I'm nervous," she admits, and the confession hangs in the air, honest and raw. "Not about the crepes. About—" She gestures vaguely between them. "This. What happens after breakfast. What happens tonight. What happens tomorrow."
"I'm nervous too," Liam says.
Nova nods, slow. "Same."
"Okay." Chloe takes a breath. "So we're all nervous. That's—that's fine. We can be nervous together."
Nova's throat tightens. "That sounds..." She trails off, searching for the word. "Manageable."
"Manageable," Chloe repeats, and grins. "I'll take it."
They order. The crepes arrive in a sizzle of butter and steam, plates set down with a flourish. Chloe's honey-lemon crepe is golden and glistening, dusted with powdered sugar, a curl of lemon peel on top. She cuts into it with the precision of a surgeon, lifts the first bite to her lips, and her eyes go wide.
"Oh my god."
Nova laughs. "Told you."
"This is—" Chloe chews, makes a sound that's dangerously close to a moan. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."
Liam takes a bite of his ham-and-cheese, nodding in agreement. "This is really good."
Nova watches them eat, her strawberry Nutella crepe cooling on her plate. She's not hungry—not for food, anyway. She's full of something else, something that sits warm and heavy in her chest, making her breath come slow and deep.
"You're not eating," Chloe says, noticing.
"I'm watching."
"Watch and eat." Chloe nudges her plate. "Come on. Join us."
Nova picks up her fork. Cuts a piece of her crepe. Lifts it to her mouth, and the sweetness hits her tongue, strawberries and chocolate and the faint salt of butter, and she realizes she's smiling.
"Good?" Liam asks.
"Yeah." She swallows. "Really good."
They eat in comfortable silence, the clink of forks, the murmur of the coffee machine, the distant sound of traffic through the window. Chloe steals a bite of Nova's crepe; Nova steals a bite of Liam's; Liam offers his last piece of ham to Chloe, who accepts it with a grateful nod.
When the plates are empty and the coffee cups are drained, they sit back, full and warm, the morning sun slanting across the table. Chloe's hand finds Nova's under the table. Nova squeezes, and Liam's knee presses against hers, and they stay like that, three people in a small crepe place, learning how to exist together.
"So," Chloe says, her voice soft. "What now?"
Nova looks at her. At Liam. At the morning light catching the honey in Chloe's hair, at the way Liam's thumb is still tracing circles on her hand, at the empty plates and the cooling coffee and the whole vast, terrifying, beautiful unknown stretching out in front of them.
"I don't know," Nova admits. "But I want to find out."
Chloe's smile is slow and bright. "Together?"
Nova's chest tightens. "Together."
Liam nods, his voice quiet but certain. "Together."
They sit there, hands tangled, hearts beating in unfamiliar rhythm, the morning stretching out before them like a path they're building as they walk it. The crepe place hums around them—Margot humming at the counter, the hiss of the espresso machine, the quiet murmur of other lives being lived in other booths.
Nova doesn't know what comes next. Doesn't know if this will last, if they'll break each other's hearts, if she'll wake up tomorrow alone in her own bed with nothing but the memory of this morning.
But for now—for this one perfect, impossible moment—she's here. And so are they.
She lifts her coffee cup, the ceramic warm in her hands, and lets herself believe it.