Enough | ✔️

+ 50 +

● qυorra neverѕea ●

The striking reminder of how Slater's lips feel against my skin has me in a complete daze as I walk downstairs, carrying my half-eaten breakfast. Hannah and Lucas cut off their conversation as I arrive in the kitchen doorway, reluctantly entering the atmosphere of awkwardness to set my piece of toast on the table.

Lucas is the first to speak.

"I'm sorry for assuming that you guys did anything but sleep in the same bed," he says, looking incredibly remorseful, "I don't know what came over me. I know D like the back of my hand, and he'd never take advantage of you like that."

I smile weakly, "I'm sure it was a heat of the moment thing. I'm sorry too."

A firm body presses up against my back, radiating heat. I look up and behind me, finding Slater.

"You two look cosy," Hannah takes advantage of my more reasonable attitude towards them, biting her bottom lip as she sips from her mug of coffee mischievously, "It sounded like you were being exorcised in there, Quorra."

Against my own will, my cheeks flourish with colour. I walk away from the heat of Slater and into one of the stools around the kitchen island, "Not funny, Han. I was being tickled," I mutter bitterly as Slater sits down beside me, no doubt masking a smile.

She hums a response that tells me she isn't convinced.

"Alright, we have a busy day ahead of us," Lucas chips in, rubbing his hands together for warmth as Hannah perks up at these plans she must already know about, "There's some relationship reconciliation in order."

"When did you swallow a thesaurus?" Slater asks as his best friend snorts.

"There's a dirty joke in there but I'll save it for some other time," he waves it off dismissively as Hannah and I share a flat look, "We're heading out in fifteen! You two need to shower - separately: we're on a time constraint, lovebirds - and get changed quick. D, come with me, and Neversea, you go with," he stops mid-sentence to briefly kiss his girlfriend, "her."

The next fifteen minutes pass in a blur. Hannah forces me into her purple dress from yesterday (I've since deduced that there was never a post-post-graduation-party party after all) and adds a light layer of makeup to match.

"I hate you so much," I tell her as I look at the back (or lack thereof) of the dress, "Do you think I'm going clubbing?"

She laughs, "You didn't say that when I wore it yesterday. And no, not quite clubbing."

Here's the thing with Hannah and I: while she has a flawless body, she's not as emphasised as me in the upstairs department. So while this plum dress fit her slim figure immaculately, I've got an issue with tightness.

"You looked beautiful in it. I've got too much going on in the front and back; I look like a prostitute!" I argue.

I cross my arms over my chest entirely unhappy with her persistence in getting me into this dress.

"A beautiful prostitute, if you insist on calling yourself that," she attempts, giving me another once over, "I think you look hot."

I scrunch my nose up, "Since when did dressing your friends up like hookers for your former teacher become a hobby of yours?"

"It's fine," she waves me off, "You won't have the dress on for long anyway."

I gasp audibly, "Hannah Klein! Lucas has tainted you!"

She looks confused for a moment, before realisation dawns on her and she doubles over in laughter.

When she eventually catches her breath, she explains herself, "Quorra, I didn't mean that Slater's going to ravish you on the floor the second we step out," she starts giggling again mid-sentence, deepening my frown, "You'll get what mean I when we arrive."