𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 || ✍︎︎

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.

♬ Far Away- Asap Rocky, Yebba

☆彡

I sit cross-legged on Emory's bed, watching her sketch with an intensity that makes her look insane.

Pencils, colored markers, and swatches of fabric are strewn about like a unicorn threw up in her room. The sun streams through the window, casting golden light across the pages filled with her designs.

Emory's pencil skates across the sketchpad, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. "I'm thinking of using this really bold asymmetrical cut for the show," she says, tapping the page. "Like a jacket, but one side is all detailed with leather—super edgy."

I nod, swirling my spoon absently in her coffee. I hear Emory, but my mind is miles away.

It's been days since what happened with Caden—since the kiss—and I still can't wrap my head around it. How I could've let that happen.

I've tried to avoid him as much as possible, but every encounter feels like a minefield. The car rides, the awkward silences, and the way my skin prickles whenever he's near—it all feels unbearable. Like we've fallen into some strange new dynamic that I fucking hate, I honestly preferred when he was an ass.

It's just physical. We're too different to be together.

"What do you think about this?" she asks, her pencil hovering above a delicate sketch.

"It's... interesting," I reply, forcing a smile that feels more like a mask. In reality, I'm hardly present. My thoughts swirl around the other night. The heat of Caden's kiss still tingles on my lips, I can't afford to dwell on it, but the memory keeps crashing into my mind like waves against a cliff.

"Interesting? Just interesting?" She rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "This is going to turn heads, trust me."

I watch as Emory excitedly flips through her sketches. "I need you to help me with my runway speech. It can't just be me gushing about how amazing I am," She chuckles, her enthusiasm infectious, and I try to match her energy.

"Right, because nothing says 'fashion show' like a long speech about how you are the queen of everything," I tease, flashing a smile.

"Exactly, see, this is why you're the best hype-woman." She taps the pencil on my head before returning to sketching.

Before my thoughts can drift again, she speaks. "Do you ever think about how dating is such a disaster?" Emory asks, her voice dropping slightly as she doodles absentmindedly.

"What brought that on?" I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard.

"Just look at my track record," she sighs, glancing up at me. "I mean, I seem to only attract total dickheads."

"What about Roman? We both know he has the hots for you."

"Oh, please. His charm is more like a charm bracelet—shiny and appealing at first, but then you realize it's just a bunch of cheap trinkets strung together," she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Not my type."