Worst Nightmare

Chapter 26

Author's POV...

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed. Dust motes danced lazily in the warm light, and the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves outside the window and the quiet rise and fall of Yoko's breath.

She stirred gently beneath the sheets, eyelashes fluttering like hesitant wings before her eyes slowly opened. The familiar ache behind her temples greeted her—a dull, nagging throb from the previous night's drinks—but it wasn't what occupied her thoughts.

No, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Faye.

The images came back in fragments, like the flicker of a dream she wasn't sure had really happened. Faye's lips against her forehead. Faye's trembling voice saying she loved her. The way she had held her—like she was something fragile and precious, not chaotic and untamable.

Yoko sat up slowly, hugging her knees to her chest. She bit her lip, then pressed her fingers to it as if still trying to feel the echo of last night's kiss. Her cheeks flushed warm—hot, even—and a tiny, embarrassed smile curved her lips.

"He's always so damn stubborn," she murmured to herself, voice barely audible, her thumb brushing her lower lip. "Even when he's loving me, he has to do it like it's some slow-burning poem."

Just as Yoko began to sink deeper into the warmth of last night's memory, a voice—low and unmistakably amused—cut through the stillness of the morning.

"Well, someone looks like she had quite the night."

Yoko practically jumped out of her skin. Her wide eyes snapped to the doorway.

There stood Charlotte, leaning casually against the frame with her signature smirk, arms crossed like she had all the time in the world—and every intention of causing chaos.

"C-Charlotte?!" Yoko yelped, scrambling to pull the blanket up to her chin, as if it could protect her from impending humiliation.

Charlotte sauntered in slowly, the picture of smug satisfaction. "You should see your face. It's giving 'caught-in-the-act' realness."

Yoko turned away, trying to compose herself. "I wasn't— It's not like that— We didn't—!"

Charlotte raised a brow, eyeing her like a cat sizing up a cornered mouse. "Relax, Princess. I'm not here to interrogate you." She paused, then added sweetly, "Just here to observe the aftermath."

Yoko narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What aftermath?"

Charlotte's grin widened like a devil catching scent of sin. She stepped closer, squinting theatrically at Yoko's exposed neck.

"Oh dear," she drawled, voice dripping with mock concern. "Is that a bruise?" She leaned in further, smirking. "Or should I say... several?"

Yoko's heart stopped. "What?!"

She instinctively clutched the blanket higher, twisting and turning like she could somehow hide from her own skin. But it was too late. Charlotte had already seen it—the faint trail of red and purple love marks blooming across her collarbone and just beneath her jaw.

Charlotte clutched her chest like she was scandalized. "You little menace! Look at you, walking around with bite-sized declarations of affection on your neck. Honestly, I'm proud. Prince must've been starving."

Yoko's entire face went red. "Charlotte, I swear to God—!" She dove for the nearest pillow and smacked her friend, who only laughed and dodged with practiced ease.