sammrapp

[sammrapp]

CHAPTER FIVE: THE END OF SUSPENSION

chapter four here

The morning before school, Monday. My last day of suspension. The light filters in gently through the window, pale and golden. Regina is still curled against me, her breathing slow and steady. For a moment, the world feels like it’s holding its breath—still, quiet, suspended. But peace never lasts long. My phone buzzes again. I reach for it cautiously, careful not to wake her. This time, it’s from Cady.

CADY: Can we talk? Just us. No drama. Promise.

I stare at the screen for a moment. My thumb hovers over the keyboard before I type a short reply.

ME: Later. Maybe.

I tuck the phone away and glance back at Regina. Her eyes are open now, watching me.

“Who was that?” she asks softly, voice raspy from sleep.

“Cady,” I say honestly. “She wants to talk.”

Regina doesn’t react immediately. Then, with a sigh, she sits up, stretching. “If you want to, you should. I’m not going to turn into some jealous lunatic every time someone tries to speak to you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Tries to speak to me?”

Her smirk is tired but real. “Shut up.”

We linger in bed for a few more minutes, then finally get up. Downstairs, Gretchen and Karen have returned, half-dressed in their pajamas with iced coffees in hand and a new scheme already brewing.

“We’re thinking matching jackets,” Gretchen says, waving her phone around. “Pink satin with our initials embroidered. You in?”

I glance at Regina. She rolls her eyes but nods. “Sure. Why not.”

Karen gasps. “Character development!”

-LATER THAT MORNING-

I meet Cady near the back of the school grounds, the place where the bleachers are half-broken and no one really hangs out anymore. She’s already there, pacing nervously.

“Hey,” she says as I approach. “Thanks for coming.”

“I didn’t say I’d stay long.”

She nods, understanding. “Look, I just wanted to say—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause more problems between you and Regina. I didn’t even know Aaron had that photo until after.”

I fold my arms. “Then why did you send the screenshot?”

Cady hesitates. “Because I wanted to be transparent. I thought if you saw it from me, it would feel less like an ambush. But maybe I was wrong.”

I study her for a moment. There’s no guile in her expression—just guilt, maybe a little regret.

“I believe you,” I say finally. “But Aaron’s getting out of hand.”

Cady’s eyes sharpen. “He texted you too, didn’t he?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

She pulls out her phone and holds it up. There’s a text from the same unknown number.

UNKNOWN: Cady, stay out of it. You’re not a saint. You helped ruin Regina once. I can do worse.

Cady exhales shakily. “He’s unraveling. I think he knows he lost her, and he can’t stand it... so much for liking him.”

Something cold slides down my spine. “We need to tell Regina.”

-THAT NIGHT-

We’re all in Regina’s room again—me, Regina, Karen, Gretchen, and now Cady too. Regina didn’t even flinch when I said we should bring her. Maybe something’s shifting.

Karen’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, munching on popcorn like it’s a crime show. “So Aaron’s gone full stalker mode?”

“He was always a little obsessive,” Gretchen mutters.

Regina listens quietly as we show her both messages. When she looks up, her expression is icy and calm—the kind of calm that’s scarier than yelling.

“No more second chances,” she says. “He’s done.”

“We can report him,” Cady offers. “To the school, at least.”

“Yeah,” Regina says, but her tone is distracted. She’s already plotting something. I can see it in her eyes. “But first… I want him to know who he’s messing with.”

I lean over. “What are you thinking?”

Regina finally smirks. “I’m thinking it’s time we remind everyone that I built this kingdom. And I can burn it down if I have to."

That night, we stay up late again. But this time there’s no interruptions, no uncertainty. Regina’s hand finds mine under the blankets, and for once, we don’t talk about Aaron. Or the school. Or anything heavy. Just soft things. Movie quotes. Stupid stories. Inside jokes. For a moment, we’re just two girls curled up in the dark, with a secret war brewing around us—but not touching us. Not yet.

I kiss her shoulder. “Whatever’s next, we face it together.”

She nods, her voice low against my ear. “Together.”

[sammrapp]

MASTERLIST

Regina George

"THE CRUSH"

PART ONE

PART TWO

Regina George

"NORTH SHORE LOVE STORY" series.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

WANDA MAXIMOFF

"UNCANNY ENCOUNTER" series.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"THE GARDEN"

part five here

part 6/?

The morning shifts by the time we step outside — pale clouds across the sky, casting everything in soft gray. The air is blowing, not too much, not cold, just fresh; and the trees around the clearing stand still and quiet, tall and big. Wanda leads the way, with a basket in her hands, moving down a narrow stone path toward a fenced-off patch of earth near the edge of the clearing. A garden. It's small but precise — rows of herbs, root vegetables, and a few flowering plants arranged in tight beds. Everything was neatly labeled in her sharp, foreign handwriting, scratched into little wooden tags. She hands me a small spade without speaking. We work side by side, Wanda taking the inner row, I kneel at the edge. The soil is soft and smells like rain. Occasionally, Wanda murmurs instructions: “Pull out the leaves, not the stem.” Or, “Cut low. It’ll grow back if you don’t panic.”

I follow the instructions silently. Time passes in the rustle of leaves and the soft snap of shears. No birdsong. No wind. I lean back on my heels, wiping my hands on my jeans, and i look toward Wanda. That’s when she sees it. Half-buried in one of the outer beds — barely visible under a leafy stalk — is a red plastic figurine. A toy. Small, weather-worn, but unmistakable: a caped action figure. Wanda is already moving toward it. Her hands hover above the toy. She doesn't touch it. Just stares. The red of it seemed to enhance, subtly, with her energy — like it's remembering where it came from.

I don't respond.

Wanda slowly reaches over, brushing the soil away with trembling fingers. Her face is unreadable — too still to be calm. She lifts the figure from the dirt, and studies it. Then — just as calmly — buries it again. Not deep, just enough to let the leaves hide it. She stands, wipes her hands on her thighs, and walks away from the bed without a word. I remain kneeling, silently. I can feel something in the ground, not magic exactly, but grief. A kind of grief that soaked the earth, silent and ever-present. When I stand to follow, Wanda doesn't look back. But she doesn't walk fast either. The light fades further by the time we step back inside. Not late — but here, in this place, light seemed to obey its own rules like it could retreat even at midday. Wanda moves to the kitchen without a word. The stove flares to life in a pulse of red, and the familiar hiss of the kettle begins again. I sit at the same place as before, already warmed by routine. The small bundle of herbs we picked lay beside me on the table. I glance at them, picking one up between my fingers. Thin stem. Pale, gray-green leaves that curled slightly at the tips.

“What’s this one for?” I ask.

Wanda, while facing the stove, speaks without turning. “Pain. Mostly physical. But sometimes… it dulls memories too.”

I slowly place the stem back down gently. “Useful combination.”

Wanda turns just enough to arch one brow. “For some people, yes.”

She pours the hot water, then approaches the table to sit before letting the leaves steep. No measuring. Just instinct. Magic lived in her gestures more than her words.

I cradle the mug in both hands.

“And the purple flowers?” I ask. “From the garden?”

“Dreams,” Wanda says. “And sleep. Not always together.”

I blow on my tea, then take a sip. “And you grow all of them?”

Wanda looks at me finally. Her gaze softening for just a breath.

“My sons helped me plant the first bed.”

The air changes slowly. I don't move. The tea cools in my hands as i hold the mug. Wanda sitting across from me, stills for a moment as though her own words had surprised her. She doesn't blink for a long while.

“They used to mess everything up,” she adds — and the corner of her mouth almost moves. “They would pull the carrots too early. Ate all the strawberries before they were ripe. One of them even tried to make a love spell with a dandelion and a dead moth.” I let out a short breath — a laugh, not quite joyful, more like recognition.

“Did it work?”

Wanda’s eyes drop to her tea. “No. But he pretended it did, just to make the other one jealous.”

She goes quiet again. Her hands wrapped tight around the mug, as if it's the only thing anchoring her.

“I don’t talk about them,” she says, more to herself than me.

“You don’t have to,” I say gently. “But if you do… I’ll listen.”

Wanda doesn't answer but she doesn't change the subject either. And that silence — the space left intentionally open — seemed to matter more than anything I could’ve said.

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"TEA TALK"

part four here

part 5/?

The morning shifted by the time we step outside — pale clouds across the sky, casting everything in soft gray. The air was blowing, not too much, not cold, just fresh; and the trees around the clearing stand still and quiet, tall and big. Wanda leads the way, with a basket in her hands, moving down a narrow stone path toward a fenced-off patch of earth near the edge of the clearing. A garden. It's small but precise — rows of herbs, root vegetables, and a few flowering plants arranged in tight beds. Everything was neatly labeled in her sharp, foreign handwriting, scratched into little wooden tags. She hands me a small spade without speaking. We work side by side, Wanda taking the inner row, I kneel at the edge. The soil is soft and smells like rain and ash. Occasionally, Wanda murmurs instructions: “Pull out the leaves, not the stem.” Or, “Cut low. It’ll grow back if you don’t panic.”

I follow the instructions silently. Time passes in the rustle of leaves and the soft snap of shears. No birdsong. No wind. I lean back on my heels, wiping my hands on my jeans, and i look toward Wanda. That’s when she sees it.

Half-buried in one of the outer beds — barely visible under a leafy stalk — is a red plastic figurine. A toy. Small, weather-worn, but unmistakable: a caped action figure. Wanda is already moving toward it. Her hands hover above the toy. She doesn't touch it. Just stares. The red of it seemed to enhance, subtly, with her energy — like it's remembering where it came from.

I don't respond.

Wanda slowly reaches over, brushing the soil away with trembling fingers. Her face is unreadable — too still to be calm. She lifts the figure from the dirt, and studies it. Then — just as calmly — buries it again. Not deep, just enough to let the leaves hide it. She stands, wipes her hands on her thighs, and walks away from the bed without a word. I remain kneeling, silently. I can feel something in the ground, not magic exactly, but grief. A kind of grief that soaks the earth, silent and ever-present. When I stand to follow, Wanda doesn't look back. But she doesn't walk fast either.

The light fades further by the time we step back inside. It's not late — but here, in this place, light seems to obey its own rules like it could retreat even at midday. Wanda moves to the kitchen without a word. The stove flares to life in a pulse of red, and the familiar hiss of the kettle begins again. I sit at the same place as before, already warmed by routine. The small bundle of herbs we picked lay beside me on the table. I glance at them, picking one up between my fingers. Thin stem. Pale, gray-green leaves that curled slightly at the tips.

“What’s this one for?” I asked.

Wanda, while facing the stove, speaks without turning. “Pain. Mostly physical. But sometimes… it dulls memories too.”

I slowly place the stem back down gently. “Useful combination.”

Wanda turns just enough to arch one brow. “For some people, yes.”

She pours the hot water, then approaches the table to sit before letting the leaves steep. No measuring. Just instinct. Magic lived in her gestures more than her words.

I cradle the mug in both hands.

“And the purple flowers?” I ask. “From the garden?”

“Dreams,” Wanda says. “And sleep. Not always together.”

I blow on my tea, then take a sip. “And you grow all of them?”

Wanda looks at me finally. Her gaze softening for just a breath.

“My sons helped me plant the first bed.”

The air changes slowly. I don't move. The tea cools in my hands as i hold the mug. Wanda sitting across from me, stills for a moment as though her own words had surprised her. She doesn't blink for a long while.

“They used to mess everything up,” she adds — and the corner of her mouth almost moves. “They would pull the carrots too early. Ate all the strawberries before they were ripe. One of them even tried to make a love spell with a dandelion and a dead moth.” I let out a short breath — a laugh, not quite joyful, more like recognition.

“Did it work?”

Wanda’s eyes drop to her tea. “No. But he pretended it did, just to make the other one jealous.”

She goes quiet again. Her hands wrapped tight around the mug, as if it's the only thing anchoring her.

“I don’t talk about them,” she says, more to herself than me.

“You don’t have to,” I say gently. “But if you do… I’ll listen.”

Wanda doesn't answer but she doesn't change the subject either. And that silence — the space left intentionally open — seemed to matter more than anything I could’ve said.

[sammrapp]

I took my sex life with me, now that show ain't fuckin'!

RENEÉ RAPP - Leave Me Alone

[sammrapp]

RENEÉ RAPP Vanity Fair Oscar Party, March 2nd 2025

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"THE QUESTION"

part three here

part 4/?

The soup is thick and slightly salty, the kind that sticks to my ribs and doesn't pretend to be anything more than what it is. Wanda serves it without ceremony, sliding a bowl toward me, then sitting across from me again with her own. We eat in near silence, broken only by the occasional clink of a spoon against the bowl. I notice how Wanda holds herself — carefully, almost politely, as if she only recently remembered how to perform the motions of ordinary life. She doesn't slouch. She doesn't fidget. She just… exists, with the kind of stillness that doesn't belong to people who slept well. When we finish, Wanda gathers the bowls, washes them by hand in the sink, and then dries them with a dish towel that looks handmade — maybe by someone else. I don't offer to help. It doesn't feel like help is what she wants. The fire has already died down to embers. I sit with my knees pulled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket I hadn’t realized I had been given. Wanda returns without a word, stood for a long moment looking at me.

“I have a spare room,” she says finally. “You can take it.”

I furrow my eyebrows as i turn my head to look at her. “You don’t even know me.”

Wanda tilts her head slightly. “I know those men. That's enough.”

The words weren’t quite cruel, but they were tired. Heavy. Wanda crosses her arms, her gaze flicking briefly to the window, where only black trees stared back. “I don’t need help. I don’t want to order you around. But…” Her voice dipped, rawer now. “If you’re going to be here… I’d prefer the company so it's not silent. It isn't a plea but the statement around the sentence bent like it wants to be.

I sit up straighter. “You want me to stay?”

Wanda's eyes met mine, unreadable.

“Just… talk to me sometimes. Be here. That’s all.”

My chest starts to ache — not from the bruises this time, so I nod.

“I can do that.”

Wanda doesn't say anything, but her shoulders ease a bit. She turned and began walking toward the narrow hallway beyond the main room. I stand, following her carefully, barefoot on creaking floorboards. The hallway is narrow and dim, the wooden walls closing in on me. Wanda walks ahead of me, not looking back, but she moves slowly enough for me to follow without rushing. As we pass one door — closed, locked by the looks of it — a trace of something hung in the air, so thick it made my skin get goosebumps. Wanda stops at the end of the hall and opens a door; Inside is a small bedroom. Clean, but clearly unused. A simple bed. A small dresser. A shelf with a few books and an empty vase. The window is covered by dark curtains, and the floor creaks as i step inside. On the wall, above the dresser, a small painting. It's clearly Wanda; a man and two small boys. The lines are rough, the colors faded but its clearly her. I turn back slowly. Behind me, down the hall and in the living room, i catch sight of something else i hadn't noticed before: a basket tucked beside the fireplace. A twin pair of small boots. A set of toys — still clean, untouched by dust — stacked neatly as if they're waiting for playtime that hasn't come. Wanda doesn't explain any of it. She just stands in the doorway, watching me. Her voice, when it comes, is quiet and soft.

“There are towels in the chest. The window sticks. You can open it if you use both hands.”

I nod slowly, my throat tight. Wanda lingers just a moment longer, like she might say something else — a warning, or a rule, or just a thank you carved in her own unspoken language, but instead, she gives a short nod.

“Goodnight, Sam.”

And then she turns, shutting the door before her footsteps soft as she vanishes down the hall, leaving the room — and its silences — leaving me alone. I sit at the edge of the bed, glancing towards the picture above the dresser. Wanda is smiling and seems genuinely happy in the picture. something I haven't seen from her yet. will I ever?

I sigh to myself as I finally peel off my boots and slip into bed, I pull the blanket up to my chest as I lay down. I glance towards the picture again, staring at it as my eyes slowly droop until they stay shut and I drift to sleep.

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"TEA"

part two here

part 3/?

The kettle whistles like it's done this a hundred times before — like it knows its job is the only sound keeping the silence at bay. Wanda doesn't rush it. She moves like someone pacing herself through a routine carved deep into muscle memory. I still don't move from the couch. My shoulder is aching, but more than that, I feel… watched. Not by Wanda, exactly. By the space itself. The cabin was rustic but lived-in. A bookshelf in the corner, stuffed with paperbacks and old hardcovers with bent spines. A few dusty picture frames faced the wall, turned deliberately away. Wanda pours hot water into two mismatched mugs. She added herbs — something green — from a tin labeled in Russian. Then she walks over and hands me a cup. I take it gently with both hands, careful not to meet her eyes too directly. Wanda settles across from me on a low chair, legs crossed under her like a cat.

The tea tasted sharp, earthy. Not unpleasant.

“I don’t get many visitors,” Wanda says at last.

It's not a complaint. It's not even an opening. It's more a statement of fact, and she let it hang there like smoke.

I exhale slowly. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t.” Wanda says studying me over the rim of her mug. “They did. You were just the bait.”

I swallow hard. The memory of being pinned down makes my hands tremble slightly around the cup. I try to hide it. Wanda notices. Of course she did.

“They won’t be back,” She adds. “Not in any form you’d recognize.”

The way she said it makes my skin go cold. Not fear — not quite. Just awareness. Of what Wanda is capable of. Of how far beyond justice she might have gone.

“You didn’t have to save me,” I say quietly. “But you did.”

Wanda looks away. Her eyes move toward the open window, glancing out it.

“I don’t save people,” she murmurs. “Not anymore.”

I don't respond. The silence stretches. The tea cooling in my hands. Then Wanda stands.

“I have food,” she says, as though remembering. “If you’re hungry.”

I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I am.”

Wanda moves into the kitchen again — this time slower, less mechanical. She pulls down a tin of crackers, opens a small jar of soup from the pantry. Her magic lights the stove again. The red glow dancing over her hands in tiny flickers, like it wasn’t sure whether to stay or vanish. I watch her in the red light, something unspoken pulling at my chest. This woman — who looks like a villain — is making me dinner in silence, in a house that felt more like a ghost than a home.

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"THE CABIN"

part one here

part 2/?

The forest swallows the red glow as we move, but I don't feel cold anymore. My body is suspended in the air like a leaf in the breeze. I should be terrified — of the power surrounding me, of the woman guiding it — but my fear is already spent, drained from my body like blood.

The woman floating beside me with a steady speed, her gaze is forward, mouth set in a grim line. She isn't speaking. She doesn't look down at me. It feels less like a rescue and more like… obligation. Like the woman saw a wounded bird and decided to carry it home. Branches and leaves blow ahead, revealing a small clearing — wild grass flattened by weather, the remnants of an old wooden fence half-swallowed by moss. Beyond it stood a cabin, two stories tall. Weathered wood. No lights in the windows. It didn’t look old or haunted — just lonely. The woman flicks her fingers, and the front door creaks open on its own. Inside is warmer. The air smelled of dried herbs and smoke. A fireplace crackled at one side of the room, casting shadows across shelves lined with books, half-burnt candles. The woman's magic lowers me slowly onto a worn couch. The moment my body touched the couch, the pain came back instantly — my shoulder aches, and my ribs hurt with every breath which makes me wince in response. The woman turns to face me. No cape now — just a red flannel over a black shirt, loose pants, bare feet on creaking floorboards. Her eyes still glowing, just faintly.

“Don’t move.”

The woman says before disappearing into a side room. When she returns, her arms are full — bandages, a metal bowl of steaming water, cloths, a small tin of salve. She kneels beside me, not looking me in the eye.

“This will sting,” she says quietly.

And it did. The woman works in silence, fingers steady, movements precise. She cleans the scrapes on my arms, wrapped my ribs in gauze, dabbed ointment onto bruises. At times she paused, not because she was unsure — but as if the memory had struck her.

“Thank you,” I eventually whisper, voice dry.

She doesn't answer. Her eyes flick up — not to meet my gaze, but to study my face. Like she was cataloging damage. Like she was trying to figure out how close I had come to dying. When the last bandage was tied, she sits back on her heels. Her hands are red with antiseptic, her hair loose around her shoulders. Looking tired.

I swallow hard before speaking up quietly, "What's... your name?"

"I'm Wanda Maximoff. Your sam, right?"

I blink in surprise but nod slowly, "right... uh- thank you for saving me, Wanda."

“I didn’t do it for you,” she says flatly. “They were loud. I wanted quiet.”

I blink and nod slowly again.

“I’m still grateful,” I say quickly. “Even if I was just… in the way.”

She stands and doesn't answer. Instead, she walks to the kitchen and starts the stove with a flick of her fingers. A kettle begins to whistle.

[sammrapp]

Wanda Maximoff

"FIRST IMPRESSION"

part 1/?

The trail narrowed beneath my worn out boots, leaves crunching softly with each step I take. The air is cooler now, dusk creeping in slowly as I cling to my jacket. My phone is lost somewhere in the snow miles away, not that I expect it to help me — this part of the forest was proudly remote, the kind of place you’d visit only if you wanted to be left alone. my backpack was light, just some water bottles and a few snacks. But something had changed in the air — the kind of shift that sends a chill down my spine as thunder echos. I slowed down, my eyes scanning the trees. Then i hear footsteps. Too light for animals. I don't turn. Not yet. Instead, I pick up my pace — just enough to signal unease, but not panic. The steps behind me doing the same.

Then I hear the voice. Casual. Male.

“Hey sweetheart. You lost?”

I finally turn around, eyes darting. Two men. One tall and smoking, a beanie pulled low over his hair. The other thicker in the shoulders, jacket open to reveal a gun handle tucked into his waistband.

“I’m good,” I say, trying to keep my voice leveled. “Trail’s just that way.”

“Sure it is,” the wiry one said, glancing at his friend. “But it’s late. Dangerous to walk alone. C’mere, we’ll help you out.”

I slowly start to step back. The thicker one moved first. Fast, lunging at me almost. I grab my bag strap and swing my bag at him — a sharp hit that i manage to catch his jaw. He grunts, stumbles as I bolt. My boots hammer the dirt, lungs burning as tree limbs slap at my face. But I don't get very far. The wiry one tackles me from behind and we both hit the ground hard, rocks scratching into my side. I claw, kick, and scream — a sound that gets swallowed by trees.

He grins while pinning me down. “You got fight in you. That’s cute.”

Then everything changes, almost in an instant. A gust of wind sweeps through the clearing, but the trees don't move. The air itself shivered, humming with unnatural energy. The man on top of me freezes— not from fear, but because something is holding him. A red glow wraps around his body like strings pulled tight. And then he's gone — yanked into the air and slammed into a tree so hard that the bark cracks. The other one backs away slowly, reaching for his gun.

A second too late.

Red light surges from the treeline like a tidal wave, rippling through the air and warping it. The gun flies from his hand. His body following — lifted, crushed, dropped in a heap that doesn't rise. I blink slowly, afraid to miss anything. All the while my heart is slamming against my ribs. The pain in my shoulder is flaring, but I turn my head anyway, gasping. There she stands. A woman cloaked in red, her eyes glowing faintly like embers. Her face was pale, older than I expected, scarlet hair that reaches her shoulder — and she's beautiful, but seems as if she's carved from sorrow. And in that moment, she isn't terrifying. She's terrifyingly still. Her eyes drop down to me, and soften

“You’re hurt,” She finally says.

I try to sit up, but my body refused. The woman's hand lifted — and the world tilted. My eyes widened as she basically, magically carries me with her. Red light surrounds me like warm water. She slowly rises herself, floating toward the trees in silence, her cloak rustling behind them like a ghost.

[sammrapp]

as most girls do

[sammrapp]

Yes, I Am Nayeon

[sammrapp]

R.GEORGE

THE CRUSH 2

part one here

Two weeks later, Regina’s fingers brush mine under the lunch table for half a second—just enough to send a chill up my spine—before she leans back, eyes half-lidded, and throws her attention toward Gretchen’s dramatic retelling of a breakup that, apparently, lasted 11 hours.

“Tragic,” Regina drawls, sipping from her iced coffee. “He probably left when he realized your love language is ‘texting forty-seven times in a row.’”

Everyone laughs. Gretchen scowls, but even she knows Regina’s claws are part of the deal.

Across the table, Cady glances at me—just a flick of the eyes. She knows. Janis and Damien, too. But no one else does, and that’s how Regina wants it.

I agreed, just happy I get to be with her now.

When she’s in front of the Plastics, Regina is Regina—flippant, razor-edged, untouchable. But when it’s just us... it’s different. She’s different.

After school when we meet behind the gym she grabs my wrist and yanks me around the corner, the click of her heels fast and intentional. The moment we’re out of sight, she presses me against the brick wall and kisses me hard, like she’s been holding her breath all day.

I laugh against her lips. “Hi to you, too.”

“Do you have any idea how boring Karen is?” she mutters, dragging her fingers under the hem of my shirt like she’s checking if I’m still real. “I had to sit through her ten-minute monologue about glitter lotion.”

I grin. “And this is my reward for your suffering?”

Her lips curl into a half-smile. “Obviously.”

She kisses me again, slower this time, and when she pulls back, she just rests her forehead against mine for a second.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” she whispers.

“Mine too.”

At school, later that week, it’s the middle of chemistry, and Regina’s sitting on the lab table infront of mine. She doesn’t look at me—not directly. But her foot taps mine under the desk. Tap-tap-pause. Tap. Our secret code. I glance up, and her eyes flick to the hallway for half a second.

Got it.

When the bell rings, I’m “going to the janitor's closet.”

She’s already waiting in the janitor’s closet at the end of the hall, arms crossed, expression blank until she sees me. Then she lets out a breath and pulls me into her. It’s dark, barely enough light to see her smirk.

“You were almost late,” she says.

“I live dangerously.”

Regina rolls her eyes and kisses me like I’m the only real thing in the world. But even here, hidden away, she still keeps one hand by the door. Always ready to pull back, to shield, to pretend this isn’t happening if someone finds us.

---

With the group, later that night we’re all in Karen’s basement watching some trashy horror movie. Regina sits on the opposite couch, wedged between Gretchen and Cady, tossing popcorn at the screen like she’s too cool to care.

She doesn’t look at me.

Not once.

But when Gretchen gets up to go to the bathroom, I see it—Regina’s hand slides into her bag. A text vibrates on my phone seconds later.

REGINA: “Kitchen. Two minutes.”

I wait three, just to keep the illusion.

She’s already there when I walk in, leaning against the counter, backlit by the fridge light. Her arms are crossed as soon as she sees me, but not like she’s mad—more like she’s bracing herself. For me. For this.

“Three minutes,” she says. “You trying to get me caught?”

“I like to keep things spicy,” I tease, stepping closer.

Her mouth twitches into something between a smirk and a sigh, and she uncrosses her arms just enough to hook two fingers through my belt loop. She pulls me toward her like it’s second nature.

I land soft against her, our hips just brushing, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound between us. Her eyes scan my face with that same sharp focus she usually saves for opponents—not lovers. Like she’s still trying to figure out what I am to her.

“I hate this,” she mutters.

I blink. “What, this?” I gesture vaguely to the space between us. “Or the janitor closets and midnight kitchen rendezvous?”

“No,” she says, eyes flicking away like it hurts to admit it. “I hate hiding you.”

That stills me.

“I thought you liked it this way,” I say gently. “Safe. Controlled. Plastic-approved.”

“I did,” she says, her voice quieter now. “But today, when Karen called me ‘single’ during lunch, and you didn’t even flinch... it made me want to scream.”

I step even closer, hands finding her waist, grounding her.

“I flinched,” I whisper. “Just on the inside.”

She lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been stuck in her chest all day. “I don’t know how to be this and that at the same time.”

“You don’t have to figure it out right now.��

Regina looks up at me. “But what if I never do? What if I can only be real when we’re alone?”

“Then we keep stealing kitchen and janitor closets,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I keep waiting. Until you’re ready to make this public.”

She leans forward, pressing her forehead to mine. “I don’t deserve you.”

I kiss the corner of her mouth. “You do.”

The kiss she gives me then is slower—quieter than usual. No rush. No heat. Just two mouths, softly meeting like a secret they want to savor.

But just as we fall into it, the sound of footsteps overhead makes us freeze.

Regina pulls back first, straightens her shirt, wipes her lips with the back of her hand like muscle memory. When I step back, the space between us suddenly feels so much colder.

She’s slipping into her mask again. I see it happen. The walls come back up like an instinct.

Regina stands there for a second—still, guarded, perfect. I almost reach for her hand, but I know better. She’s already stepped back into Regina George mode, where affection is ammunition and softness is saved for shadows.

She opens the fridge—not because she needs anything, but because pretending to look for something gives her exactly 30 seconds to reset. The glow outlines her sharp features, casting her in light and cold all at once.

“I should get back,” she says, voice flat, fingers curling around a bottle of water like it’s armor.

I nod, slow. “Yeah. Me too.”

But neither of us moves.

Then, just before she turns to leave, she says quietly, “Don’t text me tonight. I’ll call you.”

I know what that means. She needs to choose the terms. Stay in control. Stay untouchable… even if it hurts her.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll wait.”

She nods once, sharp and quick, and disappears back into the basement.

Later that night, I lie in bed with my phone on my chest, screen glowing in the dark. It’s almost midnight when it finally rings.

Her name lights up.

I answer before the second buzz.

“I’m sorry,” she says before I can speak. Her voice is small—Regina George doesn't do small. “I didn’t want to leave like that. I just… I didn’t want anyone to see it on my face.”

“What?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

The words hit me like the air’s been pulled from the room. My mouth opens, then closes again. She’s never said anything close to that before. Not even when we’re alone.

“…Say it again,” I whisper.

“I’m in love with you,” she repeats, slower this time. “And I hate that I can’t just scream it like Karen screams about lip gloss.”

I close my eyes. My chest aches with how much I want to hold her. “Then let’s do it your way. Once were both ready. Dont feel the need to rush, im not going anywhere, my love.”

There’s silence on the line. But it’s not the bad kind. It’s the kind where someone’s choosing to stay. Regina breathes out softly before speaking again.

There’s silence on the line. But it’s the kind that feels full—not empty. Like she’s sorting through every sharp, tender thought she’s ever had and trying to decide which ones she’s brave enough to say out loud.

Then she exhales, quiet but shaky. “Are your parents home?”

I blink at the ceiling, heart skipping. “No. They’re gone for the weekend.”

Another pause. Then:

“Can I come over?”

My voice is barely a whisper. “Yes.”

---

Twenty minutes later, there’s a soft knock at the back door.

I open it and there she is—hoodie pulled up, makeup wiped off, clutching her phone and a small overnight bag like she’s unsure if this counts as running away or running toward something.

She steps inside wordlessly, and I lock the door behind her. We just stand there for a second in the dim light of the kitchen. Her eyes scan my face like she’s trying to memorize me all over again.

Then she says, “Hi.”

I smile. “Hi.”

Regina sets her bag down and walks straight into my arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she didn’t just spend all day pretending I’m invisible. Like this—us—is the only thing that makes sense.

She holds on tight, face pressed to my neck. I feel her breath warm against my skin.

“I needed to see you without having to hide.”

“You are always welcome here,” I whisper. “No pretending. No masks.”

She nods, and I feel it more than see it.

---

Later, we’re curled up in my bed. Her legs tangled with mine, hoodie exchanged for one of my old T-shirts. She smells like vanilla shampoo and something warmer—something that’s just her.

We’re facing each other in the dark, a single lamp casting soft light over the room. Her hand traces the shape of my collarbone like it’s an act of reverence.

“I feel like I’m living two lives,” she murmurs. “One where I’m Regina George, and one where I’m... yours.”

“You can be both,” I say gently. “They’re not at war with each other. They just haven’t met yet.”

She gives a small, amused huff. “God, you sound like a therapist.”

“You love it.”

She leans in, nose brushing mine. “Yeah. I do.”

We kiss slowly. No rush. No hidden door or countdown clock. Just warmth and softness and the safety of being seen.

---

Sometime around 2 a.m., I wake up and find her still awake, lying on her back, eyes on the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask sleepily.

She glances at me, and for once, she doesn’t lie.

“I’m thinking about what it’ll feel like when I stop hiding. When I walk into school and hold your hand, and don’t give a single damn who’s watching.”

My heart catches. “You want that?”

“I’m not ready yet,” she says honestly. “But I’m starting to want it more than I’m afraid of it.”

I reach for her hand under the blanket, interlace our fingers. “Then when that day comes, I’ll be right there. Hand out. Waiting.”

She squeezes once. “You always are.”

---

In the morning, she’s the first to wake up. I find her sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at a photo on my dresser—one of me and my family at the beach. The real kind of smiling. The kind she almost never does.

When she hears me stir, she doesn’t turn around right away. Just says, “I want to be brave.”

“You already are,” I murmur.

She looks over her shoulder, eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Will you help me keep being brave?”

I get up, walk over, wrap my arms around her from behind. “Always.”

---

Back at school that Monday, she doesn’t hold my hand.

Not yet.

But when Gretchen calls her “single” again in passing, Regina doesn’t let it slide.

Instead, she glances at me across the table, smirks, and says,

“Who said I’m single?”

Gretchen freezes mid-bite. “Wait, what?”

Regina just sips her iced coffee like it’s nothing. “I’m just saying. Maybe there’s more going on than you think.”

And under the table, her foot finds mine again.

Tap-tap-pause. Tap.

But this time?

She doesn’t look away.

[sammrapp]

[sammrapp]

💜💙🩵💚💛🧡❤️🩷

[sammrapp]

CHAPTER FOUR: THE NEXT DAY

CHAPTER THREE HERE

Eventually, the warmth of the room, the softness of her lips, the security of being here with her—it all becomes something I want to hold forever. But time, as always, has its own plans.

Regina pulls back slightly, her thumb brushing my cheek. “We should probably get up soon,” she murmurs, though she makes no move to do so.

“Probably,” I agree, but i also make no move to do so. Our limbs are tangled now, the sheets twisted and warm around us, and the outside world feels miles away.

She rests her head against my chest again, listening to the steady beat of my heart. “I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice soft, angelic.

“Me too,” I say, brushing my lips over her hair. “But I think Janice and Damien would break down the door if we ghosted them again.”

Regina groans. “God, right. Reality.”

She sits up, the blanket slipping down her shoulder. Sunlight spills across her bare skin, and for a second I just stare—because she looks like something out of a dream. Her walls are down. No performance. Just her.

She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

I shake my head slowly. “Nothing. You just… look.. so beautiful... peaceful.”

For a second, she doesn’t say anything. Then she smiles, small and real. “You make me want to believe that’s possible.”

We eventually get out of bed—slowly, lazily, exchanging sleepy grins and soft nudges. She lets me borrow a hoodie of hers which smells faintly of her perfume. I pull it on while she ties her hair up and wipes yesterday’s eyeliner from under her eyes. Even half-put-together, she’s perfect.

Downstairs, we sit at the kitchen table with mismatched mugs of coffee. No ice cream this time—just the quiet hum of a house finally feeling like a home.

Once coffee is finished we head back into her room to change for school. As I attempt to get back into yesterday's clothes Regina stops me. "Whoa, no. You are not wearing the same outfit two days in a row." I sigh in response before responding.

"Yeah and if i wear your clothes, people will talk way more, and you said you wanted some time just for us before we're out, I want to respect that."

She sighs softly and approaches me, hugging me as she mumbles against my skin, "I love how you're so damn sweet. But don't worry about that, okay? You forgot some clothes here last time you slept over, i washed them so you can wear that." I chuckle and kiss her cheek before she pulls away and I nod as she steps away and returns with clothes.

We both get dressed and ready for the day before heading to school. We pick up Gretchen and Karen on the way and I fidget with my hand nervously as the immediately bombard us with questions.

Gretchen practically launches herself into the back seat, barely giving Regina time to pull away from the curb. “Okay spill,” she demands, eyes flicking between us with the precision of a hawk. “You two totally bailed yesterday, and Regina, you were wearing sunglasses indoors. That's like, the universal sign of something happened.”

Cady gazes at me through rear view mirror, giving me a knowing look before sending me a text reading, "my mouth is sealed, we can talk alone if you ever want to."

Karen, perched beside her with a strawberry smoothie and three layered scrunchies on her wrist, hums in agreement while cady glances out the window, uninterested while karen speaks. “Yeah, and don’t think we didn’t notice how you ran out right after she did.”

Regina glances at me for a second, just a flick of the eyes, but I catch it. She’s measuring what to say. I clear my throat, trying to sound casual.

“We just needed a day. Mental health and all that.”

Karen squints. “But together?”

“Can’t friends hang out without it being a thing?” Regina says smoothly, her tone teasing but her hand tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel.

“Sure,” Gretchen says slowly. “But you don’t just hang out. You make appearances.”

There’s a brief silence, and I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. This is exactly what Regina was worried about—what we were both worried about. The scrutiny, the whispers. The spotlight neither of us really asked for.

I reach down and fidget with the hem of my shirt and then stop myself.

“Maybe I just like spending time with people who don’t make everything a federal investigation,” Regina says, and though her voice is light, there’s an edge under it. Protective. Defensive. In a way that makes something twist in my chest.

Karen and Gretchen exchange a glance before both frowning and Gretchen mumbles she's sorry while Karen agrees then, Cady comforts them and Regina sighs, dramatically to reflect sarcasm to sell it even more. "Don't forget it's out that you- Gretchen, we're the one who started this rumor. Don't think your off the hook."

Gretchen’s eyes go wide. “Okay rude, but also… fair.” She shrinks back a little in her seat, clutching her iced latte like it might defend her. “I didn’t mean for it to spiral. I just said I saw you leaving reginas house late and someone took it and ran.”

“You took it and ran,” Karen says, pointing her straw at her. “You literally texted the group chat ‘They were totally giving eye contact with feelings.’”

“Which they were!” Gretchen defends, and Cady shakes her head at her, silently telling her to shut up but then Gretchen pauses and glances at Regina. “But like… respectfully.”

Regina just raises an eyebrow, lips twitching with a smirk she doesn’t quite let out. “Eye contact with feelings, Gretch?”

I groan quietly, burying my face in my hands for a second. “We’re not a Netflix drama, Gretchen.”

“Well, clearly not. Because if this were a drama, there would’ve been some forbidden kiss in the rain scene by now.”

Karen turns to me, all faux-serious. “Wait, has there been a rain kiss?”

“No!” I say too quickly, and that makes Regina laugh. She finally gives in to the grin she’s been holding back, eyes soft when she glances my way.

There’s a beat of quiet, and I realize my nerves have settled a bit. The worst-case scenario I kept building in my head—whispers in the halls, judgment, fake sympathy and real cruelty—it’s not happening. Not right now, anyway.

Maybe it’s not all or nothing. Maybe we get to have pieces of real and private and soft, without needing to explain everything.

Regina clears her throat, the grin still tugging at her mouth. “Anyway. If either of you so much as hint at anything today, I’ll make sure the group chat is mysteriously filled with screenshots of Gretchen's old fanfic.”

Karen chokes on her smoothie while Gretchen gets flushed and speaks up. “You wouldn’t.”

Cady let's out a breath of relief that Regina left her out.

Regina’s eyes gleam in the rearview mirror. “Try me.”

Karen bursts out laughing, and just like that, the tension breaks completely. The car fills with soft music, and a conversation that veers into outfit choices and the physics test no one studied for.

As we pull into the school lot, Regina reaches for the gear shift, then hesitates. Her hand brushes mine briefly, unnoticed by the others, and when she looks at me, her eyes are quieter than her voice has been all morning.

“We okay?” she asks under her breath.

I nod. “Yeah…we are.”

We step out into the daylight, backpacks slung, our shields back up—but our eyes still meet every so often, like a secret neither of us wants to let go of just yet.

The day goes mostly quiet, Regina shuts down anyone who even glances her way. Before lunch, in the only class I don't have any of the group; The stares get worse and I clench my fists as I hear whispers along the teacher's voice beside me.

The girls closest to me smirks at me as she lean closer and whispers her other two minions snickering in response.

"Hey? How was it doing the Regina george? I always had a feeling she was a fag, you were so obvious too. Should've known."

Hearing the disrespect for Regina already pisses me off but adding me to it just made me snap. I stand up, grabbing my textbook before swinging it across her face, making the class and teacher gasp. And I glare down at her as I mutter, "shut your god damn mouth." Before the teacher yells out, "Samantha! Principles office now!"

I scoff and pack up my bag, muttering at the girl and her friends to fuck off before leaving the room.

I walk down the hallway and as I'm passing the libary Cady comes out and stops me. "Sam? Where you headed?"

I sigh and frown as I look around and speak up, "Principles office. I may or may not have smacked a girl in the face with my history textbook."

Cady's eyes widen as she pull me towards some lockers as she speaks, "you what?! Why?"

I sigh and rub my face, "they mentioned Regina and me, disrespecting us and... I lost it."

Cady sighs and hugs me, "don't start fights okay? We can all shut them down together. You know, we are the plastics now right?" I nod as we pull away and the girl i hit is standing there with wide eyes. She rushes off as we look at her and I sigh and step back muttering I have to go.

I head into the principles office and we explain that we fought and got sent by the teacher. Then they call our parents, mine state they can't come and hers come rushing for her. I get a lecture from the principal and get suspended for a week before I start to head out of the building.

I sigh when I realize regina drove us and my car is at her place, so I text her.

"Hey... You busy?"

My phone buzzes almost immediately.

REGINA: Just got into the car. Be there in 2.

Sure enough, barely a minute later, her familiar pink car pulls up to the front. The window rolls down slowly, revealing her sunglasses and her signature don't-mess-with-me expression—except when her eyes meet mine, it softens, just a little.

I slide into the passenger seat without a word. The car is quiet, but not cold. She starts driving before she says anything.

“What happened?” Her voice is calm, careful.

I sigh, sinking back into the seat. “Some girl said something gross. About you. About us. I lost it.”

Regina doesn’t respond right away. Her grip tightens on the wheel, her jaw set. “What did she say?”

I shake my head. “Not important. Just… cruel. Homophobic. You know.”

There’s a pause. The air between us is heavy. And then she says, evenly, “Did you hit her?”

I glance at her. “With a history textbook.”

She exhales sharply—almost a laugh, but not quite. “That’s… kind of hot. But also—Sam.”

“I know,” I mutter. “I got suspended. A full week. They called my parents.”

Regina looks at me briefly. “Are they pissed?”

“They didn’t even bother coming down. Just told the school to ‘do what they had to.’” I say while air quoting with my fingers.

She mutters something under her breath I can’t quite make out, but I feel the sarcasm behind it. She’s quiet for another few seconds, then pulls into a quiet lot near the park. Kills the engine.

“I’ll talk to Karen, Gretchen and Cady,” she says. “We’ll shut it down. If any of that girl’s friends keep running their mouths, they’ll regret it.”

I turn toward her. “I don’t want to drag you into more drama.”

She scoffs. “Sam. I’m Regina George. I am the drama.”

That finally pulls a real laugh out of me. I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

Then Regina looks at me seriously, all traces of humor fading from her face.

“But seriously… thank you. For standing up for me. For us.”

I shrug. “It wasn’t even a choice, i don't think.. It was just—instinct.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But still.”

We sit in the stillness of the parked car for a moment, the kind that feels like it's holding something important. Then she reaches for my hand, her fingers threading through mine.

“You shouldn’t have had to handle it alone.”

I squeeze her hand back. “Neither should you.”

She nods, then glances toward the park trail ahead. “Let’s ditch the world for a bit. Go for a walk. Clear our heads.”

So we do.

We leave the car behind and head into the trees, where the buzz of school and rumors fades into birdsong and rustling leaves. Regina kicks off her shoes halfway down the path, walking barefoot like she’s trying to feel something real. I follow her lead.

At a clearing, we sit in the grass, warm sunlight filtering through the branches above us. Regina pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them.

“I hate that you got suspended because of me.”

“I didn’t get suspended because of you,” I say firmly. “I got suspended because some girl thought being cruel was funny. You just happened to be the target.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then speaks again, “When I first started liking you, I was terrified. Not of you—of this. Of being known. Of being real.”

I lie back in the grass beside her, staring up at the sky. “I was scared too. I still am.”

She turns her head toward me. “But I’m more scared of pretending I don’t care. Of going back to that cold, perfect version of myself and pretending this—you—didn’t change me.”

I look over at her, my heart heavy and full all at once. “So what do we do?”

Regina lies back beside me, her fingers finding mine again. “We wait. We don’t let them break us.”

There’s silence for a while, but it’s not awkward. It’s calm.

Eventually, she sighs. “You’re staying with me this week. Non-negotiable.”

I glance at her, startled. “Regina, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” Her voice is firm. “Your parents didn’t even show up. I’m not letting you sit alone in that house for a week. You’re coming home with me.”

My throat tightens a little, and I just nod. “Okay.” I say before sighing softly, "Regina? What did you mean you don't want them to break us? Do you think I'll go?"

Regina doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes stay fixed on the sky above, but I can feel the tension in her silence.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it.

“I think… I’ve spent so much of my life expecting people to leave that I stopped letting them get close in the first place. But then you showed up and didn’t ask for anything. You didn’t want to use me, or win something, or be seen with me. You just… saw me.”

I stay quiet, letting her speak. I know better than to interrupt her when she’s letting the cracks show.

She continues, “And now that you’re in, it’s like—if I lose you, I don’t just go back to being alone. I go back to pretending I like it.”

I shift closer, until our shoulders are touching. “You’re not going to lose me, Regina.”

She turns her head to look at me, something fragile swimming in her eyes. “But what if it gets too hard? What if it’s too much?”

“Then we figure it out,” I say, simply. “Together. That’s the whole point, right?”

Her eyes search mine like she’s looking for a lie—but there isn’t one to find. I mean it. Every word.

Regina doesn’t answer right away. She just holds my gaze for a moment longer, and then her expression softens. She nods—barely, but it’s enough.

“I’m not used to this,” she says quietly.

“I know,” I reply, just as soft. “Me either. But I’m not going anywhere.”

She squeezes my hand once more, then sits up and brushes grass off her legs. “Okay. Let’s get you packed. If you’re going to be a rebel-in-residence at my place for a week, you’re not living out of a backpack.”

I laugh and follow her up, brushing dirt off my jeans. “You say that like I’m not going to just live in your clothes all week.”

Regina smirks. “Oh, you will. But I like the illusion of options.”

We stop by my house first.

It’s quiet—as always. Regina waits in the car while I go inside to grab some clothes and a few things. No one’s home, and it’s almost a relief. I send a quick text to my mom, short and simple: “Staying at a friend’s for the week. I’m fine.”

That’s all they really want to know anyway.

When I slide back into Regina’s car, she takes one look at my expression and doesn’t say anything. Just starts driving.

Back at her place, Karen and Gretchen are sprawled on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine and watching some chaotic reality show on low volume.

“Hey,” Karen says without looking up. “Heard you went all phsyco on some girl.”

“Iconic,” Gretchen adds, tossing me a wink.

I roll my eyes, but Regina just waves a hand. “She’s staying here this week.”

Karen nods without question. “Cool. We were just talking about doing a face mask night.”

“Tomorrow,” Regina says. “Tonight’s off-limits. We’re recharging.”

Karen mock-salutes. “Got it, boss.”

After dinner, we all, minus Cady, end up in the living room, sprawled on the giant sectional. The energy is light, lazy, warm.

Karen’s lying upside down on the armrest, scrolling through her phone. “We should do a spa vacation,” she announces dreamily. “Somewhere with a hot spring. I feel spiritually clogged.”

Gretchen is painting her nails a glossy coral. “Can we do it after midterms? I already have two C’s and my mom thinks I’m ‘underperforming emotionally.’ Whatever that means.”

Regina raises an eyebrow. “Go. Before your bad grades infect my vibe.”

Karen gasps, grinning. “You want us to leave so you can make out with your rebel girlfriend.”

Gretchen wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh my God, Regina has feelings. Sound the alarms.”

Regina throws a pillow at them. “Out.”

They laugh all the way to the door, grabbing their stuff and teasing Regina the entire time. But they go. Karen pats my head in goodbye. “Text us if you need backup.”

“Or if she gets too moody,” Gretchen adds. “She’s allergic to vulnerability.”

Regina flips them off as they shut the door behind them, but she’s smiling.

- LATER THAT NIGHT-

The lights are low, the city outside her window casting soft gold lines across the floor. I’m curled up on the far side of the bed, her hoodie swallowing me in its warmth and smell of Regina's perfume, while she moves around the room—closing drawers, lighting a vanilla candle, half-distracted.

“So,” she says, tossing a hair tie on her dresser. “How hard did you hit that girl with a history textbook?”

I nod. “Like, full-force. It made a sound.”

She laughs—a real one this time. “I wish I could have been there.”

Regina climbs onto the bed and crawls over to me, her knee brushing mine. For a moment, neither of us says anything. The silence is charged now, heavy with something we’ve been circling all day.

Her voice drops. “I meant it, you know. About not letting them break us.”

“I know.”

We’re close now. Her fingers find my cheek, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want to be afraid of this anymore.”

My heart beats louder in my chest. “Me neither.”

Our faces are inches apart. Her breath is warm. I can feel the moment tipping, like gravity shifting toward her. Our eyes meet, and I swear, we’re about to—

Knock knock knock.

Regina freezes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Knock knock. This time it’s followed by a distant voice.

“Regina? It’s Aaron. Can we talk?”

I blink. “Aaron Samuels?”

Regina groans and throws herself backward onto the bed. “I’m going to murder him.”

Regina stomps down the stairs and opens the front door just wide enough to glare.

Aaron looks… awkward. Fidgety. Holding something that looks suspiciously like an apology pizza.

“I heard what happened,” he says. “And I know I probably don’t have the right to ask, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m great,” Regina says coolly. “What do you want, Aaron?”

He shifts. “I just… I thought maybe we could talk. Clear the air at school. I miss you.”

Behind her, I’m coming down the stairs, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands. He sees me and his face shifts—just slightly.

“Oh,” he says. “You’re here.”

“Obviously,” Regina says flatly.

“Right.” He pauses, awkward. “Well… I’ll go. Just—if you ever want to talk…”

She shuts the door before he can finish.

Back in her room, after silently walking up the stairs, we still remain quiet as we sit down on her bed.

Just as i open my mouth to speak our phones ding in unison and we both glance down at it, we both open our own phones to see a screenshot from our group chat with the Plastics. All of us. Cady sends a screenshot of a picture of me and her hugging in the hall just before my suspension, captioned: "Plastics have a love triangle happening now". Which from the screenshot shows Aaron's Instagram that it's posted on, along with a text apology explaining to Regina mostly that it's not what it looks like and I scoff making Regina look up at me with a conflicted look on her face. She seems angry, like she wants to lash out in jealousy but at the same time i scoff and clench my jaw, making her become more confused than jealous.

Regina stares back down at the photo on her phone for a few seconds too long, her expression unreadable. I can see the flickers of emotion dart across her face—confusion, hurt, something dangerously close to jealousy—but none of it settles long enough to name. I’m about to say something when she beats me to it and speaks.

“What is this even supposed to be?” she asks, her tone carefully neutral. Too neutral.

I hold up my phone. “Exactly what it looks like. A hug. One I didn’t even initiate.” I pause. “It was right before the principal told me I was suspended. Cady was just—being nice. I didn’t know Aaron took a picture. Let alone posted it.”

Regina’s jaw tenses. “Of course he did.”

There’s a silence between us again, thicker now, the air electric and raw. She tosses her phone down on the bed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I hate this.”

“I know,” I say softly.

“No—you don’t. You don’t know what it��s like to constantly feel like people are waiting for you to screw up. Like you have to be five steps ahead of every rumor, every fake smile, every twisted narrative.” Her voice cracks at the edges, still low but no longer calm. “They always assume the worst of me. And I’ve played into it, sure, but now I’m trying to be different and I still feel like I’m stuck being the villain in someone else’s story.”

I sit forward, my voice steady but low. “Regina. Look at me.”

She doesn’t. So I reach out, gently taking her hand until she finally lifts her eyes to mine.

“I don’t care what Aaron posts. Or what anyone says. I know what that hug was. And more importantly, I know what this is.” I squeeze her hand. “Us? This is real. I’m not confused. I’m not hiding anything. And I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

She swallows hard. “Even if people keep trying to pull us apart?”

“They can try,” I say. “But they won’t win. Not unless we let them.”

That breaks something in her. Just slightly. Her shoulders drop. The anger in her eyes softens into something more fragile.

“I want to believe you,” she murmurs.

I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. “Then do. Please.”

Regina nods, barely, and exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours. Then she kisses me—not desperate, not rushed, but slow and certain, like she’s anchoring herself in it.

When we pull apart, she rests her head against my shoulder. “Okay. No more letting them get in my head.”

“Good,” I say, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Because if anyone’s going to live rent-free in there, it better be me.”

She lets out a small laugh. “You already do... Against my will.”

I grin. “I’m honored.”

We fall into silence again, but it’s steadier.

Then her phone dings again. Another message from the group chat.

It’s Gretchen.

GRETCHEN: Just FYI, Aaron’s deleting the post. Karen guilt-tripped him into it by crying and saying he was “violating the emotional climate.”

KAREN: I was ACTING. I deserve an Oscar. Or at least boba.

CADY: Also I told him to stop being a weirdo and stay out of it. He said ‘sorry', and he ratted out the junior who gave him the picture. The junior who got hit in the face by sam apparently wasn't over it.

GRETCHEN: God, we’re so powerful when we collaborate, and we aren't finished yet. That junior is next.

Regina snorts. “Okay, I’m never doubting those two again.”

I chuckle. “I think Karen actually is spiritually powerful. Just in weird, unpredictable ways.”

She smirks and curls back into me. “We’ll survive this, right?”

“Definitely,” I say, wrapping my arm around her. “i have faith in us.”

She nods slowly, and this time, I don’t think she’s afraid. So I pull her into my arms and pull the covers over us as I kiss her forehead as she nuzzles against me, "Let's rest, my love." I say before Regina mumbles something in a sleepy whisper and places a kiss on my neck before drifting to sleep.

I play with her hair as I stare out the window that's slightly open from the curtain shifting with the air conditioning that's on. I stare out into the stars for a while until my phone buzzes and and check to see a text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: "it's Aaron. This isn't done. Regina was mine first, you can't just turn her. I'll get you alone eventually."

I sigh and shut my phone off before setting it aside, deciding it's a problem for later as I drift off to sleep with Regina.

[sammrapp]

CHAPTER THREE: THE RUMOR

CHAPTER TWO HERE

The next Monday feels off from the moment I walk through the school doors. There’s a buzz in the air, subtle at first—quick glances, half-smiles, whispers that die the moment I pass. At first, I think I’m imagining it. Paranoia, maybe. But by second period, it’s undeniable.

“Did you hear?” someone giggles behind me in the hallway. “Regina and Sam. They're together-together.”

My heart stops. I freeze in place for a second too long before forcing myself to keep walking. My cheeks burn and I can barely focus through third period. Did Regina hear it? Did she start it?

By lunch, I’m a wreck.

I hesitate at the edge of the cafeteria, clutching my tray like a shield. At the Plastics’ table, Regina is already seated—alone again, flipping through her phone. She hasn’t seen me yet.

But the whispers continue.

“Didn’t know Regina swung that way.” “I mean… it’s always the quiet ones.” “I give it a week before she dumps her and denies everything.”

I spin on my heel, ready to flee, but then I hear a voice. Sharp. Clear. Cold.

“Say that again.”

It’s Regina.

She’s standing now, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at a table of junior girls nearby. The entire cafeteria seems to go silent.

“What did you just say about me and Sam?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

The girls blink, suddenly unsure of themselves.

“N-nothing. Just, like, talking.”

“No, you weren’t,” Regina snaps. “You were spreading lies. About me. About my friend.”

The way she says it—my friend—makes something ache in my chest.

One of the girls scoffs, trying to recover. “Whatever. If it’s not true, why are you freaking out?”

Regina’s eyes narrow further. “Because even if it was true, it would be none of your business. But it’s not. So shut your mouth.”

As I'm listening to that unfold I'm already dumping my lunch and rushing out of the cafeteria and then down hall after hall till I reach the parking lot for my car.

The sun is harsh, but I barely notice it. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I fumble with my keys, hands shaking so hard I drop them on the pavement. I crouch to pick them up, but a sob catches in my throat before I can stop it.

I grip the keys in my fist and lean against the car door, trying to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It doesn't help. The whispers, the laughter, Regina's voice cutting through the noise—it's all still echoing in my head.

"Why did she say it like that?" I mutter, blinking rapidly. My friend.

I should be relieved. She shut the rumor down. Defended me. Shut the girls up like only Regina George can.

But it hurt, because she didn’t deny it for me. She denied it to protect herself.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” I whisper, voice thick with shame.

“Sam!”

I freeze.

It’s her.

I turn slowly. Regina is standing halfway across the parking lot, her blazer slipping off one shoulder, her phone still in her hand like she ran out mid-scroll. She looks... frantic. The cool, collected queen bee is gone. What’s left is something more real.

“What are you doing?” she asks, voice breathless, unsure. “Why did you run?”

I look away. “Because I didn’t want to be a punchline in the cafeteria, that’s why.”

Regina walks closer, but cautiously. Like she’s afraid I’ll bolt again. “You think that’s what this is? A joke?”

I laugh bitterly. “I don’t know, Regina. Is it?”

She stops a few feet from me, staring as her eyebrows furrow. “You think I’d do that to you?”

“I don’t know what to think!” I snap, the words bubbling up way too fast. “One second you’re defending me, and the next you’re denying it like it's shameful, what am I supposed to do with that?”

Her lips part, but no words come out.

I shake my head, backing toward my car. “You don’t get it. You get to shut people up with one sentence and walk away untouched. I don’t. If this gets out, I don’t get to go back to being Regina George. I just get labeled.”

There’s silence.

And then—so soft I barely hear her—Regina says, “It’s not shameful.”

I pause.

She steps forward. Her voice is stronger this time, clearer. “I wasn’t trying to deny you. I was trying to protect us.”

“Us?” I echo hoarsely.

Regina looks like she might be sick. “I didn’t start the rumor, Sam. But when I heard it, I wasn’t mad that people were saying it. I was mad they got there before I did -we did...” My eyes go wide in shock as she continues, “I don’t want to be a rumor,” she adds. “I want to be real, but I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

My heart feels like leaping out of my chest.

Regina George—Regina George—just looked me in the eye and said she wanted something real with me. And I almost ran from it. Is this really happening?

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

She gives me a small, sad smile. “Me too.”

We stand there, the parking lot stretching quietly around us. A breeze lifts her hair. My palms are still sweaty, but I don’t move.

I swallow hard before speaking up, almost inaudible, "Do you want to leave with me?"

Regina’s eyes search mine. For what, I’m not sure—permission, courage, something she can’t quite say out loud.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Let’s go.”

I unlock the car with trembling fingers. She walks around and slips into the passenger seat without another word. It’s the quietest I’ve ever seen her, but not in a bad way. It’s like something’s shifted—like she’s peeled something off and left it behind in the cafeteria.

We sit in silence for a few seconds. I grip the steering wheel, not starting the engine yet.

“Where do you wanna go?” she asks before i do.

I glance over at Regina. “Anywhere that’s not here.”

She nods, in agreement I assume.

I pull out of the lot and just drive. Past the school, past the gas station where the juniors hang out, past everything familiar. We don't say anything for a while, and surprisingly, it’s not awkward. It’s just calm... and quiet.

Eventually, I find myself turning onto a quiet back road that winds through the park on the edge of town. Trees tall and green and humming with late spring. I pull into a gravel lot near the overlook—no one’s there.

We get out. I lead the way to a bench that faces the hills and a shallow, shining lake down below.

Regina sits beside me. The wind tosses her hair into her face, and she tucks it behind one ear, distracted, unsure.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admits. “Like… actually liked someone like this.” She pauses a quick moment before adding quietly, "or liked a girl like this.."

I glance at her. “Me neither.”

She turns to me, something uncertain flickering in her eyes. “Then why does it feel like I already ruined it?”

“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “I was just… overwhelmed. I didn’t expect anyone to say anything, and then when they did… you know, about us…” I trail off, voice fading.

Regina looks out at the lake. “It wasn’t fair, what I said. The way I said it. I wanted to shut them up, but I think I was also trying to shut myself up.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “I’ve spent so long making sure no one could touch me. And now you—” her voice catches, “—you make me want to be touched. Just not… torn apart.”

Her vulnerability hits me like a wave.

“I’m not going to tear you apart,” I whisper. “But you don’t have to decide anything right now. We don’t have to label this.”

She shakes her head and there's a small pause as we make eye contact for a moment.

Then, she leans in, slowly. She gives me time to pull away—but I don’t. I lean in too, and our foreheads touch, slowly, as if we're both terrified.

“I like you,” she murmurs. “Like, actually... like you.”

A breath leaves me I didn’t know I was holding but i smile. “I like you too. In case that wasn’t obvious from the whole running-out-of-the-cafeteria breakdown.”

She laughs—a soft, stunned thing, like she can’t believe we’re really here.

Regina George, untouchable, unstoppable Regina, reaches down and takes my hand. And this time, it’s not hesitant. It’s real. Before either of us can lean any closer my phone starts buzzing, indicating a call coming through. I sigh and reach my hand over my jeans, over the phone in my pocket as I press the volume button to shut off the ringtone and buzzing, letting it continue ringing in silence, in hopes that whoever is calling gets the hint to leave me alone.

This makes Regina chuckles softly, "not going to get that?"

I shake my head, my fingers still pressed against the silent phone in my pocket. “No,” I say, voice soft but sure. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

Regina smiles—not her usual smirk, not something polished or practiced, but small and genuine. “That’s a first,” she says lightly. “Someone choosing me over whatever’s lighting up their phone.”

I glance at her, unsure if she’s joking or not. “I’m not just choosing you. I’m choosing this too. Whatever this is.”

Her eyes soften at that. She looks away quickly, like the honesty makes her nervous. “God,” she mutters, “you’re going to wreck me.”

“Likewise,” I say, and we both laugh—together, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s only meant to be shared between us.

The phone buzzes again, making me groan in response. This time, Regina leans in slightly, teasing. “Still not checking?”

I glance toward the phone in my pocket, then back to her. “Yes. Only because they might keep trying.”

I pull the phone out. It’s a missed call from Janice, followed by a text:

“You okay?? Everyone’s saying you bolted after Regina freaked out in the caf. Call me.”

And another from Damien right under it:

“Sam. WHAT. THE. HELL. Just tell me you didn’t make out with Regina George behind the dumpsters or something.”

I snort as I think 'typical Damien.'

Regina leans over a bit, catching a glimpse of Damien’s name. “Is he the too gay to function one?”

“That’s the one,” I say, turning the phone screen off again and tucking it away.

She watches me for a second. “You’re not worried about what they’ll say?”

“I mean… yeah,” I admit. “But I think I’m more worried about not knowing where we stand.”

Regina’s expression turns serious. She shifts slightly to face me. “We stand… here.” She lifts our joined hands slightly. “This isn’t pretend. Not for me.”

I nod slowly, feeling that ache in my chest again—but this time it’s a good kind.

“Okay,” I say. “So what happens when we go back?”

For a while, we sit quiet again. Then Regina says, “So... do we tell people? Or keep it to ourselves?”

My heart skips. “Do you want to tell people?”

She hesitates. “Part of me does. The petty part wants to march back into the cafeteria and plant one on you in front of those junior girls just to shut them up.”

I snort but blush as i speak. “Very on-brand.”

“But the other part...” she trails off, staring out at the water. “The other part wants to keep it just mine. Just ours. For a little while longer.”

I nod. “We can do that. We can take it slow. No pressure. Just... see where it goes.”

She looks at me again, eyes clearer than I’ve ever seen them. “You’re kind of... dangerous, you know.”

I blink. “Me?”

Regina leans in, just a little. “Yeah. You make me want to be honest. That’s... new.”

And before I can think, before I can second-guess it, I reach out and brush a piece of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger for just a heartbeat too long. Her breath catches, and I think she’s going to kiss me. I think I might let her.

And then, finally, we both lean in, slower than anyone ever has. Her lips brush mine with a gentleness that surprises me, considering everything she is—sharp, magnetic, dangerous. But this kiss? This kiss is careful. Like I’m something to be held, not conquered.

We part only slightly, breath mingling, and I open my eyes to find her already looking at me.

I smile, dazed. “So… that’s happening now?”

She grins, flushed and beautiful. “Yeah. That’s happening.” she chuckles softly and adds, “God, I’m in so much trouble.”

I chuckle in return. “Me too.”

We sit there a few minutes longer, tangled up in the kind of silence that feels sacred. The air has shifted around us. Nothing loud, nothing dramatic. Just that soft, electric awareness that something has changed and there’s no going back.

Eventually, Regina sighs and leans back on the bench, looking up at the sky. “We should probably head back,” she says, voice quiet.

I nod, even though part of me wants to stay here forever. “Yeah.”

We walk back to the car side by side, not touching, not talking—but the space between us feels different now. Like it belongs to us.

As I start the engine, I glance at her. “You okay?”

She doesn’t answer right away, but then speaks up in a gentle low voice, “I don’t know, but I want to be.”

I drive us back into town. The school’s long behind us, but the weight of what waits there is still real. I know the rumors won’t stop overnight. I know Damien and Janice are going to freak—maybe not in a bad way, but still. I know Regina’s going to have to choose, again and again, to keep being honest.

And I’ll have to keep choosing not to run.

We pull into her driveway. She doesn’t get out right away.

“You want to come in?” she asks. “My mom’s at a Pilates retreat in Sedona, and I think I still have ice cream.”

I blink. “Wait—your mom goes on Pilates retreats?”

“Twice a year. Very intense.” She’s trying to play it off cool, but there’s a hopeful edge in her voice that tells me this isn’t just about ice cream.

“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

We head inside, her house too big and too quiet in that way rich people’s homes always are. She leads me to the kitchen and digs through the freezer until she finds a pint of mint chocolate chip. “I knew it,” she says, triumphant.

We eat it straight from the container, sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen island, and it’s weirdly… normal. We talk about nothing at first—TV shows, weird teachers, that time she almost got banned from Sephora. But eventually, the quiet turns thoughtful again.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Of course.”

She licks her spoon, suddenly nervous. “If we do this… for real… do we have to tell people?”

I look down at the melting ice cream, thinking. “No. Not unless we want to. But we also don’t have to pretend it’s nothing. I’m not going to push you, Regina. I just want to know where I stand.”

She nods slowly. “You stand… here,” she says again, echoing her own words from earlier. Then she grins. “On the barstool across from me. With sticky fingers and green ice cream on your nose.”

I laugh and wipe it off with the back of my hand. “You’re the worst.”

“You like it.”

“I really do,” I say, and I mean it.

There’s a moment of silence before she says, “Okay. Then let’s keep it ours. For now. Let them wonder.”

“And when they ask?”

Regina shrugs. “Let them. I’m done living for their approval.”

She stands and circles around the island until she’s beside me again, standing close enough that our shoulders touch. She leans her head against mine.

“Stay a little longer?” she asks. Which i immediately agree to.

After the ice cream, I glance at the clock on the microwave. It’s barely past five, the soft light still pouring in through the big kitchen windows. The world feels suspended, like this moment exists outside of time.

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Regina doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her relax beside me, just slightly. It’s subtle—her shoulder easing against mine, her breathing evening out—but it feels like trust. Like something unfolding.

We end up on the couch, the empty pint discarded on the coffee table. She grabs a soft throw blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over our legs, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. But her pinky brushes against mine under the blanket, and I know it’s not casual—not for either of us.

Her phone buzzes once on the table, then again. She glances at it and groans. “Karen. And Gretchen.”

“Want to check it?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not right now. Not ready to play damage control.”

We sit in silence for a bit. The TV’s off. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the occasional car passing by outside. I don’t know when we shifted from sitting to half-lying, but I realize Regina’s curled up with her head on my shoulder now. Her hair smells like expensive conditioner and something faintly sweet.

“You ever think,” she murmurs, “about what it would be like if none of this mattered? If we weren’t in high school, if people didn’t talk?”

I nod and sigh softly. “Sometimes. But then I think... if none of it mattered, I might never have known you at all.”

She tilts her head up to look at me, eyes searching. “Do you think this is a mistake?”

I answer without hesitation. “No. I think this is the first thing that’s felt right in a long time.”

Regina exhales, long and slow, like she’s been holding her breath for months. “You make it easy to be honest,” she says again.

I smile. “You’re learning fast.”

She rolls her eyes, but then her expression softens. “I want to try. Not just with this—” she gestures between us, “—but with everything. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

“Me neither.”

There’s a knock on the front door.

We both freeze.

Regina sits up slowly, a look of confusion and hesitation passing over her face. “You expecting anyone?” I ask.

She shakes her head and stands, walking to the front window. She peeks through the curtain and swears under her breath.

“It’s Janice.”

My stomach flips. “What?”

“And Damien,” she adds. “They’re both standing on the porch. Janice looks like she’s ready to kill someone. Damien’s holding a Starbucks like it’s a peace offering.”

I get to my feet, heart racing. “Did you tell them where you live?”

“I didn’t have to. They’re your friends.”

Regina turns to me. “What do you want to do?”

I glance at the door, then at her.

Then I say, “Open it.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but doesn’t argue. She walks to the door and pulls it open.

Janice storms in first, eyes blazing. “Where's sam? She wasnt at—”

She freezes when she sees me standing behind Regina, blanket still around my shoulders.

“Oh.”

Damien steps in after her, blinking. “Holy crap. You did make out behind the dumpsters.”

“No,” I say quickly. “We didn’t. We just… needed space. To talk.”

Regina crosses her arms but stays by my side. “And we’re still talking. So if this is going to turn into some kind of intervention—”

“It’s not,” Janice cuts in. Her voice is softer now, the anger slipping. “I was just worried. We both were.”

Damien nods. “Yeah, I mean—look, if you two are… a thing or something, that’s cool. We just didn’t want you to disappear.”

Regina gives them a long look. “You’re really not going to freak out?”

Janice shrugs. “I already used up all my freak-out energy during Carrie: The Musical. This? This is manageable.”

Damien smiles brightly. “And honestly? Kind of iconic. The queen bee and the quiet girl? That’s a movie waiting to happen.”

Regina looks at me. I nod, barely hiding my relief.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Then yeah. We’re figuring it out. But keep your mouths shut.”

Janice grins. “Good. Because if you hurt her, I will put glitter in all your foundation.”

Regina snorts. “Please. That’s just Tuesday for me.”

We all laugh, and the tension breaks like a popped balloon. Janice and Damien settle in like they belong there, and Regina doesn’t push them out. She leans back against the couch beside me again, and this time she takes my hand openly.

Later, when the sun dips low and they finally head out, Regina shuts the front door before returning to the couch to sit beside me again. It’s dark outside now, the sky scattered with stars.

“Thanks for staying,” she says.

I squeeze her hand as I take it into mine and interlock our fingers, “Thanks for asking me to.”

She smiles at me before chewing on her bottom lip silently and letting out a sigh after a few moments before speaking up, "can you stay... tonight? With me?" She asks me quickly, like she's afraid of what my answer will be.

I furrow my eyebrows slightly but answer honestly and immediately, "of course I'll stay."

The house is quiet now, the earlier tension replaced by the peaceful hush of evening. I slide off my shoes as Regina leads me upstairs, motioning down the hallway lined with designer art and soft lighting. Everything here feels luxurious, yet oddly comforting.

She opens the door to her room—it’s spacious, tidy, with pale pink walls and a window seat overlooking her fenced backyard. A calm bubble surrounds it, shielded from high school drama and whispers.

Regina turns to me, her voice sudden and vulnerable:

“Thanks for saying yes. You can—um—just sleep here... With me.” She gestures toward the neatly made bed, soft blankets draped at the foot.

I nod, taking it in.

She huffs lightly, relief flickering across her features.

“Okay. I’ll—I'll make room.”

She begins removing a few decorative pillows, shifting them to the floor. I offer to help, and she smiles faintly, handing me the last one.

Before I know it, we’re both seated cross-legged on the bed, the pillows scattered around us. I glance at her, heart pounding—not nervous exactly, but deeply aware of how much this moment matters.

Regina clears her throat. “I’m sorry about everything today. About making you run.”

I brush a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “It’s okay. I get it.”

She meets my gaze, eyes glistening. “I don’t want to mess this up. We’re... real now. And that scares me.”

Her confession softens me.

I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “It scares me too. But I don’t want to run anymore either.”

She exhales, leaning in until our foreheads touch. “Then we’re both staying.”

We lie down under the blanket, tucked close to each other, the city lights shining through the window.

She asks, “Tell me something real about you.”

I think of the cafeteria, the rumor, my fear. “Today…I ran, because I was terrified of what I meant to you.. or if I didn't mean anything at all..”

Regina closes her eyes for a beat. “And?” she prompts.

“If I meant more than rumor. Because you really mean more to me than a rumor.”

She smiles into the darkness, her hand squeezing mine as she speaks. “you're more than a rumor to me Sam, and it's scaring me. No one has mattered this much to me before."

The blanket is soft and warm against my skin. Regina’s hand drifts from mine to rest lightly on my side. We lie there in the hush of her room, the city lights casting gentle patterns on the pale pink walls.

Her voice is soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this… seen.”

Something tightens in my chest — her honesty resonates.

I stroke her arm. “I see you,” I whisper. “ The real you.”

Regina turns onto her side, propping her head on an elbow. She smiles, tired but genuine. “Good. Because I need someone who sees the real me—and doesn’t run.”

I lean in, brushing my lips lightly against her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She closes her eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.” I say before kissing her temple gently.

Her breathing steadies; soon she drifts to sleep. I watch her for a long time—her eyelashes, the way she relaxes when she finally trusts. I stay awake a little longer, cherishing it before I too drift off.

-THE NEXT MORNING-

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, soft and golden. I blink awake, disoriented for a moment, then feel the warmth next to me. I smile as I realize why.

Her head is resting on my shoulder; her arm draped across my chest. Gently, I shift to free it and tuck the blanket around us snugly.

Regina stirs, blinking sleepily. “Morning,” she murmurs.

“Morning,” I whisper back. I lean over and press a soft kiss to her forehead.

She hums happily and kisses my neck gently, making my face flush but I tilt my head back anyway, allowing her to continue.

Her lips linger against my neck, soft and hesitant, like she's still testing the weight of the morning, of us. The air between us is warm, quiet, full of breath and heartbeat. I shift slightly beneath her, not to pull away but to face her more fully. When our eyes meet, hers are still half-lidded with sleep, but unmistakably clear. Present.

She watches me like she's memorizing something — my face, my skin, the way I’m still here.

I lift my hand, brushing her hair gently behind her ear. “You really don’t wake up looking like a mess, do you?”

Regina gives a soft, sleep-rough chuckle. “Don’t be fooled. Give me ten minutes and you’ll see the disaster.”

“I kind of want to,” I murmur, letting my thumb trace the edge of her jaw.

She leans into my touch, eyes fluttering closed for a beat before she opens them again. Her hand slides up my side, tentative but sure, and settles at the curve of my waist beneath the blanket. I feel her fingertips there, warm and steady, grounding me in the moment.

“I didn’t expect to feel this calm,” she admits quietly. “Like I’m not waiting for something to ruin it.”

I nod, understanding more than I can say. “Me too. I kept thinking I’d wake up and… you’d be gone. Or worse—you’d pretend none of it happened.”

She draws a little closer, our legs brushing under the sheets now, her breath mingling with mine. “I don’t want to pretend,” she whispers.

She leans in—slowly, like she’s giving me space to pull away. But I don’t. Our lips meet again, not in the tentative, feather-light way they had last night, but deeper now. It’s unhurried and warm, like a secret being shared.

Her hand slides gently along my back, fingers slipping under the hem of my t-shirt. I shiver—not from cold, but from the way it feels to be touched like this. With care. With meaning.

She pulls back just a little, resting her forehead against mine. “This okay?”

I nod, breathless. “Yeah. This is more than okay.”

We kiss again—deeper, softer, our bodies curling toward each other instinctively like two magnets finally allowed to meet. The kind of kiss that says: I choose you. I want to stay. Nothing rushed, nothing reckless—just us finally feeling safe enough to be close.

She trails kisses along my jaw, slow and deliberate, her fingers splayed against my back. I feel my own hands moving on their own, sliding into the curve of her waist, anchoring us together beneath the weight of morning light and newness.

We stay like that for a long time—touching, kissing, laughing quietly in between—never pushing, only exploring. Mapping this new thing with reverence. Not just attraction, but intimacy. Real, vulnerable closeness.