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When opportunity knocks, they say you should open the door with open arms.
But what if it doesn’t knock on your door—what if it taps on your window at midnight?
It had only been a couple of days since everyone arrived at the dorms, and so far, the only interactions Kori had were brief introductions within her department. She hadn’t had the chance to meet everyone yet. Though she wasn’t here to make friends, the next two months would be filled with classes and collaborative projects across multiple departments. Eventually, she’d find herself working alongside the others—whether she wanted to or not.
Kori had made up her mind—she was going to be productive that evening. Her art supplies, once neatly organized, were now scattered across her desk and spilling onto the floor. But she didn't mind. The excitement of being accepted into a prestigious summer arts program had her buzzing with creativity, and she was determined not to waste it. Between her hectic routine—attending classes, doing assignments, working a part-time job, going to the gym, and squeezing in whatever social life she could —she rarely had the time or energy to dive into her art as freely as she wanted. Drawing had always been a passion, though mostly as a hobby, so being selected for the program felt especially rewarding. It was gratifying to know she’d be surrounded by others who, like her, shared a passion for art, though most of them probably saw it as a career.
The girl was completely immersed in her process. Her wavy blonde hair was twisted into a messy bun, with a few loose strands falling over her face—and one particular lock she absentmindedly twirled whenever she was deep in thought. Dressed in a cropped pink top and tiny booty shorts, she sat curled up in her chair, legs tucked beneath her in what she liked to call “true gay fashion”.
The only light in the room came from the desk lamp in front of her, casting sharp shadows over her sketchbook. Every so often, she'd adjust it slightly to shift the perspective of her drawing. Her playlist had stopped playing long ago, but she hadn’t noticed—not with the gentle breeze rustling through the cracked window, the scratch of pencil on thick paper, and the occasional obnoxious slurp from her oversized pink tumbler. The room felt cozy, like a piece of home transported into this quiet pocket of night.
She was so absorbed, she didn’t hear the knocking until it shook the glass.
It was loud. Sudden. Heavy.
Kori jolted upright, nearly tumbling off her chair. For a split second, it felt like a scene out of a horror movie—like the killer had finally reached the girl alone in her room, next on the list. This can’t be good, she thought, pulse quickening.
She froze, every nerve on high alert. Slowly, like in a dream—or a nightmare—she turned toward the window, eyes wide, breath held, every inch of her ready to run or fight, depending on what the hell was waiting on the other side of the glass.
It was too dark outside to make anything out from a distance, so the girl had no choice but to move closer to the window. The knocking hadn’t stopped—steady, insistent—echoing through the room until she was right next to the glass. Just in case, she grabbed the sharpest thing within reach: a pair of scissors that, on most days, struggled to cut anything thicker than a receipt.
Her heart pounded. Nothing in her life had prepared her for a moment like this.
She hated horror movies—hated them—with every ounce of her being. And now, here she was, living out the exact kind of scene she'd always refused to watch, clutching useless scissors and staring down the unknown on the other side of the glass.
With a deep breath and more courage than she felt, Kori threw open the window.
She braced herself for the worst—some bloodthirsty creature waiting outside—but what she found instead made her blink in disbelief. Standing there, breathless and clearly anxious, was a girl. Before she could get a word out, the stranger at the window spoke first, her voice soft and hurried.
“I’m really sorry for bothering you this late, but I really need to get into your room. Is that okay?”
Kori blinked, processing the request—and the sight of the stranger—before replying with a half-nervous laugh. “Suuure… as long as you’re not here to kill me.”
The girl gave a breathy laugh, and Kori reached out to pull her in. No sooner had the stranger stepped inside than Kori shut the window behind her, fast and firm. Just as the lock clicked, she heard it—footsteps, quick and heavy, pounding closer.
Someone—or something—was looking for her.
They froze.
For a long moment, the room was filled only with silence and the sound of their breathing.
The footsteps slowed… then faded. Gone. Whoever—or whatever—had been chasing her, was no longer right outside.
In the sudden stillness, Kori finally took a good look at her unexpected visitor.
She was small, maybe a head shorter than Kori, with layered black hair that brushed her shoulders, stark against porcelain skin. A delicate nose, a beauty mark just above her cheek and another near her lips, dramatic makeup framing a pair of large, shimmering blue eyes—eyes that somehow managed to catch the light, even in the dimness of the room.
Kori stared, mesmerized. Gorgeous didn’t even begin to cover it.
The small girl was the first to break the silence.
“Thanks for the help, but I have to say this—when you thought you might be in danger… you grabbed scissors?” she said, raising an eyebrow, a soft laugh slipping out.
Kori crossed her arms, feigning deep offense. “I think we should at least know each other’s names before you start mocking my choice of weapon.”
The girl smiled, amused. “Fair enough. I’m Lydia B. Kollins. Visual Arts, Garment Construction Department.”
“Kori King. Visual Arts, Drawing Department,” she replied, pausing for dramatic flair. “Now, Miss Kollins, tell me—what would you suggest I grab when a possibly murderous stranger comes knocking on my window in the dead of night? Hmm? What’s more reasonable than arming my delicate, defenseless self with a sharp object?”
Lydia didn’t miss a beat. “Honestly? I think one of your pencils could do more damage than that sad little pair of safety scissors. Or maybe a shoe—judging by your foot size, that’d be a proper weapon.”
Kori gasped. “Too far! Not too much!”
They both burst into laughter. Kori caught herself staring again—this girl had a dry sense of humor and the kind of laugh that made you want to hear it again.
Once the laughter faded, Kori tilted her head. “Okay, now that we’ve bonded over weapons and shoe size insults—can you tell me what the hell just happened? Should I be worried about something coming back to finish the job?”
“It all started when my friend Lana got invited to this club by some girl in her department,” Lydia began, waving her hands as she spoke, her voice rising with dramatic flair. “Something about cheap drinks and kicking off the summer properly. Then Jewels—my other friend—decides it’s a brilliant idea and says she’s going to ask a cute girl from Performing Arts to come with us. And just like that, bam, apparently I’m going too.”
Kori laughed. “Sounds like you were... gently kidnapped.”
“Oh, fully ambushed,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t even given time to protest. I was just told what to wear so we all matched.”
Kori grinned, already charmed.
Lydia continued, her tone turning more exasperated. “Anyway, it was already going sideways before we even left. First, none of us knew there was a campus curfew—none—and then Lana accidentally set the pick-up spot to the cafeteria, which is halfway across the universe. So we had to walk. In heels.”
Kori let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying this.
“And of course,” Lydia went on, “all my stuff—keys, ID, even my phone—was in Jewels’ bag, because apparently I trust too easily. So when one of the security guards spotted us, everyone took off like it was the freaking Hunger Games. But me? I don’t run. Not in these.” She gestured down at her boots, clearly offended on their behalf. “So guess who got left behind.”
“This is too good,” Kori said, nearly doubled over with laughter. “You got sacrificed.”
“Like a lamb,” Lydia nodded solemnly. “For fashion and friendship.”
Kori wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still laughing. “I’m sorry, but this might be the best story I’ll hear all semester—and the semester hasn’t even started yet.”
“Well, I’m glad my trauma is entertaining,” Lydia said dryly, though her eyes sparkled. “But yeah. That’s how I ended up knocking on a stranger’s window at 11 p.m. on a Thursday. Just trying to avoid getting in trouble or, you know, getting expelled before orientation even happens.”
Kori leaned back, grinning. “Honestly? Best uninvited guest I’ve ever had.”
As their conversation unfolded, one thing became increasingly clear—Kori couldn’t get enough of this girl. The more they talked, the more intrigued she became. Lydia wasn’t just interesting; she was magnetic. And eventually, Kori realized she couldn’t let this evening—maybe even the moment of her year—slip through her fingers.
She wanted to spend more time with Lydia. More than that, she wanted her. But making a move now didn’t feel right—not with everything going on. So instead, she offered a middle ground.
“You still thinking about heading to the club? Reuniting with your friends?” she asked. “I’m sure they feel at least a little bad about ditching you.”
“I’m not against going,” Lydia replied, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Kori’s, “but I’m not going alone… am I?”
Kori forgot to breathe. For a split second, she just stared, caught off guard by how stunning Lydia looked in the low light. Then, as casually as she could manage, she said, “Gimme twenty minutes and I’ll drive us. Sound good?”
Lydia gave her a sweet, knowing smile and nodded.
While Kori rushed to get ready, Lydia settled on the bed. The room had already been a bit of a mess, but now it looked like a full-blown tornado had passed through—makeup scattered, clothes everywhere. Kori barely noticed; she was on a mission.
When she finally stepped out, she was a vision. The tight pink-and-orange mini dress clung to her body like it had been made for her, her Venus necklace glinting just above the neckline. Her heels gave her that perfect boost of height and confidence—not that she needed any. She checked herself once in the mirror, then turned toward the bed—and saw Lydia staring.
There was something different in her eyes now. She hadn’t said anything exactly flirty all night, hadn’t fully made her intentions clear—but now she couldn’t look away. And Kori could feel the heat from across the room.
She was still soaking in that gaze when a new sound cut through the quiet.
Footsteps.
They echoed from the hallway—slow, deliberate. Kori froze. A narrow beam of light flickered through the bathroom little window, sweeping side to side.
She turned to Lydia. The other girl had gone still too, her body tensed like a held breath.
No time to think. She snapped off the bathroom light, dove toward the bed, and landed right on top of Lydia, hands braced against the mattress, legs straddling her just enough to keep from crushing her. They weren’t touching—barely—but the closeness was ecstatic.
Under any other circumstance, this would’ve been thrilling. Kori would’ve taken her time, soaked in every detail of Lydia’s delicate frame, the way her dark hair fanned out against the pillow. She’d be wondering how close she could get before Lydia met her halfway.
But not tonight.
Not like this.
They both watched, holding their breath, as the flashlight beam paused just outside the door. It lingered.
Then—finally—it moved away.
Silence returned.
And only then did they let themselves breathe again.
Kori still hadn’t moved.
And Lydia still hadn’t looked away. “You always dive on girls when you are in a crisis?” she whispered, looking very amused.
Kori let out a breathy laugh. “Only the pretty ones”
— ༘⋆✿.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⚘ ✾ ✮⋆˙☁︎ ⊹₊⟡⋆ ☾ ؛༊ ✶⋆.˚ ☀︎ ✧˖°.⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ —
It's been about half an hour since they got to the bar. Lydia’s friends were already talking about heading back to campus to get her, assuming there was no way she’d make it there on her own. But just as they were about to leave, they spotted her. With a flurry of excitement, they swooped in, pulling her out of Kori’s grasp before she could say much of anything.
“Sorry—and thanks!” Lydia managed to call out quickly before her very enthusiastic friends dragged her inside, clearly ready to party. And there was no stopping them.
To be honest, Kori wasn’t even sure they noticed she was standing right there.
Which was surprising, considering—by her own modest estimation—she was pretty hard to miss. Anyone with working eyes would agree… right?
Back at the bar, the blonde was still babysitting her Washington Apple. She’d been nursing it more out of habit than interest, so it had hardly touched it. Her focus kept drifting to the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd.
She was so caught up in watching, she didn’t even notice someone sit beside her—until they spoke.
“Hello??? Earth to Kori King?!”
She turned to see Suzanne Boots—better known by her stage name, Suzie Toot—perched on the barstool beside her. Ginger curls styled to perfection, a flapper-inspired dress sparkling under the lights, and that signature mischievous grin firmly in place.
“On the hunt for a pretty girl tonight, I see,” Suzie teased.
“Not exactly,” Kori replied, turning to face her with a smirk. “You look far too happy. It’s kind of disgusting.”
“Let’s just say I’m having a very good night, and I’m here to spread the joy.” Suzie waved the bartender down and ordered two shots of tequila. She turned back to Kori. “Sooo... what are you doing here? Because you’re not drinking or dancing, as far as I can tell.”
Kori laughed softly as the bartender placed the shots in front of them. “Long story. I’m not drinking tonight—I’ve got a beautiful girl to take home. You can have both if you want.”
Suzie arched a perfectly manicured brow. “Ah. So it is about a girl. I knew it.”
She took the first shot in one smooth motion, then leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. “But instead of sulking over here by yourself, staring holes into the dance floor, maybe you should join her. You’re about to burn a hole through it.”
“I’m being considerate, okay? She’s having fun with her friends. I’m not about to swoop in and steal her away.”
Kori glanced back toward the crowd—but the group was gone. Lydia and her friends had vanished from the dance floor.
She let out a quiet sigh and turned back to Suzie.
“We had… a moment earlier,” she said, her voice soft—an unspoken weight behind the words.
“Ooh, that sounds promising,” Suzie grinned. “If that’s the case, then you definitely shouldn’t wait too long. Trust me, she’s waiting for you to do something.”
Before Kori could respond, a blur of black slipped between them. Someone grabbed the second tequila shot off the bar and downed it without hesitation.
Little black dress. Black boots that could step on her and she honestly wouldn't mind it. A confident saunter that stole the air from Kori’s lungs.
Lydia.
She turned to Kori with that look—intense, amused, entirely unreadable. Her eyes locked onto Kori’s like they had unfinished business, like she already knew the answer to the question she hadn’t asked yet.
“Ready when you are, Ms. King…”
Kori didn’t say a word—just slid off her stool and offered Lydia her hand, which the other girl took without hesitation, her fingers cool and deliberate against Kori’s palm. The crowd on the dance floor pulsed with bodies and bass, but the second they stepped into it, it was like the rest of the club dimmed. They didn’t press too close—yet—but every sway, every near-touch felt deliberate, a game of proximity and restraint. Lydia moved with lazy confidence, eyes locked on Kori’s like she was daring her to make the first real move. Kori smirked, circling around her, letting their shoulders brush just enough to leave a spark. Lydia’s lips curled slightly, like she knew exactly what she was doing—and she did. They danced like a promise half-kept, a question hanging in the air. Neither of them answered it. Not yet.
But now, Kori King was really close to losing it. She wanted her and she wanted it bad. Lydia was right there in front of her, swaying to the music, eyes locked on hers like she already knew every thought racing through her mind. And maybe she did. Kori's pulse was thunder in her ears. She didn't want to wait, didn’t want to keep pretending this was casual.
She closed the distance.
One hand slid to Lydia’s hip, the other brushing up her arm as she stepped in. Lydia didn’t move away—instead, she leaned in, the edge of a grin tugging at her lips.
“Took you long enough,” she said, voice low, the words grazing Kori’s throat like a challenge.
“Don’t start,” Kori warned, her voice rougher than she meant it to be. She didn’t let go. Couldn’t. Lydia fit against her too perfectly, like this was inevitable.
They moved together without speaking, their bodies in sync, the rhythm of the music drowned beneath the tension sparking between them. Kori’s hands roamed—confident now—sliding around Lydia’s waist, fingers brushing skin just beneath the hem of her dress. She felt Lydia inhale, sharp and shallow.
Lydia’s lips hovered just inches from her own, eyes dark and steady. “You gonna kiss me or just keep looking at me like that?”
Kori’s mouth twitched. “What, and ruin the suspense?”
Lydia laughed, breath warm against her cheek. “Just do it already!”
That did it.
Kori leaned in, her lips catching Lydia’s—not soft, not tentative. It was a kiss pulled straight from every second she’d spent trying not to imagine it. Hot, hungry, and real. Lydia responded instantly, her fingers threading into Kori’s hair, pulling her closer like she’d been waiting for this just as badly.
And maybe she had.
Because when they finally broke apart, just barely, Lydia didn’t tease. She just looked at her—lips parted, breath uneven—and said, quietly:
“Finally.”
They shared a breathy laugh, their foreheads still pressed together, caught in the afterglow of something that had been simmering all night. Kori gently nuzzled Lydia’s cheek, then trailed soft kisses along the curve of her jaw. She was ready to go right back in—lips, hands, everything. There was nothing stopping them now.
Right?
Yeah. No.
Suddenly, it was like someone turned the volume up on the world around them. The crowd snapped back into focus, the flashing lights felt too bright, and the illusion of being in their own little world shattered.
“Hey!” a voice shouted over the music, cutting through the haze. “We’re gonna play Truth or Dare or Spin the Bottle or something like that! You guys should join us!!!”
It was Jewels—grinning wide, clearly oblivious to the fact she had just walked in on something about three seconds away from catching fire.
“Everyone at the table is from the summer course too,” she added, bouncing slightly on her toes. “It’ll be a fun way to get to know each other, right?!”
Kori froze, still holding Lydia close. Lydia didn’t pull away—not right away. She just sighed softly, then smiled with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Her lips hovered by Kori’s as she murmured, “I guess we’re not the only ones here after all…”
Then she pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, a spark still dancing there.
“We should go,” she added, with a glance toward Jewels. “She won’t back down so easily… and we can get right back to this later, right?”
She winked, then stepped away—slow, deliberate, like she knew Kori’s eyes would follow every movement.
And sure they did.
As Kori sat down and the rules of the game were explained, she quickly figured out a few things:
1. College girls really love a reason to drink. The table was already piled high with shots of every color and flavor imaginable, waiting to be downed once the game kicked off.
2. Suzie would also be taking part in this game—so get ready for things to get messy.
3. Speaking of Suzie, it seemed her “very good night” had everything to do with Lydia’s friend, Jewels.
4. And finally, any excuse to interact with Lydia? That was a win in Kori’s book.
They were all gathered around a large round table at a classic American burger joint. The kind of place you'd never find in a club, but it had its own charm. Eight people crowded the table, with two extra chairs squeezed in to make sure everyone could play. She had already familiarized herself with Lydia's friends plus there was someone from her own department, Crystal Envy, and her friend from way back, Tootsie. So, basically, half the table. The other half consists of Sam, Lexi, Onya and Acacia. Kori would’ve liked to have learned more from each of them from their quick introductions, but her attention was almost entirely consumed by the fact that she and Lydia were sitting right next to each other.
Kori placed her hand on her small girl’s thigh, her fingers brushing lightly against her bare skin, and Lydia gently placed her hand on top of hers. A small thrill ran through Kori. It felt so right, yet there was this burning desire for more—more exploration, more intimacy, but she knew it wasn't the moment. Not yet.
The first round of dares was easy, just warming up for what was inevitably coming. Crystal had to belt out both Fergie and Will.i.am’s parts from Fergalicious. Lana performed her signature Rosa Parks impersonation, which had the group laughing. Suzie tapped her way through Morse code. Sam managed to open a bottle with just her heels, and Jewels somehow managed to put her foot behind her head. Kori was impressed. Then it was Lexi’s turn to dare Kori, and the atmosphere shifted, growing a little more charged.
“I dare you,” Lexi said, her voice low and teasing, “to say which girls at this table you would… fuck.”
Kori blinked, the challenge hanging in the air like a spark just waiting to catch fire. She glanced at Lydia, looking for some kind of reassurance or permission. The question had caught her off guard. She didn't want to put Lydia on the spot—didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.
Before Kori could answer, Lydia, without missing a beat, took the pink shot in front of her, her voice steady as she said, “All the shots for Kori will go to me.”
A chorus of shocked and impressed murmurs rippled through the group.
“Ooooh, that’s nice to know,” Suzie teased, her eyes lighting up with mischief as she clearly started plotting her next move.
Kori couldn’t help but smile. Lydia had just taken control of the situation in the most unexpected way, and the move made her heart race a little faster. She didn't have time to thank her for the moment of clarity, but the group was already hyping things up.
“Look at her,” Acacia chimed in with a laugh. “Quite ballsy!” She spun the bottle, and it landed on Sam, who was quick to come up with the next dare.
"Since Lydia’s takin’ all of Kori’s drinks," Sam drawled, her Southern accent stretching each word like warm honey, "seems only fair she takes Kori’s seat too—on her lap, for a couple rounds, right?"
The table burst into laughter and teasing cheers, but before Lydia could even react, Kori was already moving. Her hands slid confidently to Lydia’s waist, lifting her with surprising ease and settling her down onto her lap like she’d been there all along.
Lydia’s breath caught, but she didn’t resist—just leaned back instinctively, her body molding perfectly into Kori’s. The closeness sent a subtle jolt through them both.
Leaning in, her voice low and teasing, Kori whispered against Lydia’s ear, “These arms aren’t just for show, you might like to know…” Then she pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, quick but full of promise, before turning her attention back to the game like nothing had happened.
The small girl, blushing furiously, let out a quiet laugh. “I guess this is payback for earlier,” she murmured under her breath, still smiling as she adjusted herself on Kori’s lap—though neither of them seemed in any hurry to change positions.
As the game wore on, things quickly escalated from playful to downright outrageous. Dares got bolder, messier, and a whole lot more revealing.
Suzie, predictably, found herself in the center of the chaos when she was dared—courtesy of Kori—to remove an article of Jewels’ clothing using only her mouth. The moment the dare was spoken, Suzie froze. Everyone turned to look at her—except Jewels, who was already laughing
Suzie, on the other hand, looked like she was experiencing internal combustion. Her face practically turned a shade of red that rivaled her hair, her entire body looked like it was deciding between fight, flight, or spontaneous combustion. Watching her try to execute the dare without passing out was both hilarious and, honestly, kind of endearing.
Lexi was next, tasked with pouring a drink into Sam’s mouth while blindfolded, which ended in a small flood over Sam’s shirt and half the table. Acacia tried the worm—emphasis on tried—but her flailing limbs had more in common with a dropped puppet than any coordinated dance move. Onya had to show the group a picture from her hidden spicy collection, the one that usually you have to put a password on before seeing it. Jewels and Lana were then dared to swap skirts. The two girls grumbled, giggled, and eventually pulled it off—though Suzie nearly died again from the whole scene.
Lydia and Kori weren’t spared the spotlight. Lydia had to tell one of her most mortifying stories, and after a dramatic pause, she launched into it: the time she got high, panicked because she thought she couldn’t get her tampon out, and called her mom for help—only to realize, mid-phone call, that there was no tampon in there to begin with. Her storytelling was unfiltered and graphic in the best way, and by the end of it, everyone was howling with laughter. Still, Lydia took the shot.
“Honestly, I earned this one,” she muttered with a grin.
Kori’s challenge? A handstand. In heels. And a dress. Somehow, against all odds—and several shrieks of concern—she pulled it off. Not without revealing a little more than intended, though, and the commentary about her ass came in fast and unfiltered. She took it all with a smirk and a bow.
Everyone was clearly having a great time. The kind of night where the chaos, the laughter, and the connections all blurred together into something golden.
And yet, through all the rounds and chaos, one thing went largely unnoticed: Lydia was still in Kori’s lap. She hadn’t moved since that dare earlier. The way the blonde occasionally nuzzled on Lydia’s neck and hair, the way the blue eyed girl was completely snuggled by Kori’s embrace… She leaned back against Kori like it was the most natural place in the world, her fingers occasionally playing with the edge of her sleeve, her head brushing against Kori’s cheek or neck. They weren’t being subtle, but no one interrupted the moment either.
That was, until Suzie—still red-faced from her earlier dare—decided to stir the pot.
“Alright, Kori,” she said with a sly grin and a pointed look, “seven minutes in heaven. You get to choose.”
The group immediately started hyping the moment, cheering and whistling, daring her not to chicken out or hide behind Lydia taking another of her shots.
She tightened her arm gently around Lydia’s waist, her gaze locked and steady. “I’ll take Lydia, thank you very much,” she said, her voice smooth and her smirk full of confidence that had everyone screaming.
Lydia’s eyes widened—just a little—but she didn’t flinch. If anything, she blushed… and smiled.
The cheers and teasing didn’t stop as Kori stood, gently guiding Lydia up with her by the hand. A chorus of wolf whistles and whoops followed them as they walked off toward the coat closet near the back of the diner—a space hastily deemed “the room” for this particular round.
Suzie, still fanning herself from her own emotional damage, was the one to theatrically call out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” which only got more laughter.
Kori opened the closet door and gestured for Lydia to go in first, the light overhead flickering dimly like it knew what kind of moment this was supposed to be. Once the door shut behind them, the sound of the group outside dulled to a distant hum, barely there under the buzz of fluorescent light and the smell of old leather and vodka.
It wasn’t a big space—just enough for coats, a mop bucket, and, apparently, two girls in the middle of a very specific kind of tension.
Lydia turned slowly, her arms folded, leaning back against the wall with an almost-nervous smile — she wasn’t sure if she was about to laugh or melt. She didn’t expect that Kori King would be so bold. “So…” she said softly, “you really picked me, huh?”
Kori stepped closer, a playful spark in her eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Lydia gave a small shrug, biting her lip like she didn’t trust herself to answer that.
Kori moved in until they were just a breath apart. “You’ve been in my lap for, like, fifty minutes,” she murmured. “I thought we were past pretending this isn’t happening.”
That earned a soft laugh from Lydia, but her voice was quieter now. “You gonna kiss me or just keep making me blush?”
Kori didn’t respond—not with words, anyway.
She leaned in and kissed her, slow at first. Testing. Tasting. Lydia’s hand reached up immediately, fingers sliding into Kori’s hair, pulling her closer like she’s been waiting for this. The kiss deepened, melting into something breathless and electric, a whole evening of flirtation distilled into a single, perfect moment.
Their bodies pressed together instinctively—Lydia’s back against the wall, Kori’s hand slipping around her waist. It wasn’t rushed like earlier, but it was intense. Real. Lydia tilted her head, lips parting, giving more. Asking for more.
They finally broke apart, breathless.
Lydia ducked her head, hiding her face against the curve of Kori’s neck, trying—and failing—not to let it show just how into it she really was. But her lips still brushed softly against Kori’s skin, a featherlight kiss to her neck betraying the craving simmering just beneath the surface.
“Well,” Lydia murmured, voice low and warm, “that was definitely worth the seven minutes.”
Kori let out a soft laugh, wrapping both hands around Lydia’s face and gently guiding her back to meet her eyes. Her thumbs brushed along flushed cheeks, slow and reverent.
“We’ve still got five minutes,” she said with a smirk, her voice dropping, “and I plan to use every second.”
Lydia’s grin turned wickedly sweet as she leaned in again, closing the space between them. Her lips hovered just above Kori’s, her breath warm and teasing.
“Then quit talking,” she whispered, “and kiss me like you mean it.”
Kori didn’t have patience—not when she wanted someone so badly. She eased a thigh between Lydia’s legs, slow and deliberate, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of that little black dress—the one that had been driving her crazy all night.
Lydia’s tongue was melting against the blonde’s, the softness of her lips pulling the blonde closer. Her arms wrapped tightly around Kori’s neck, helping to keep her grounded as all was happening.
Her body felt as if it were slowly being set alight, every touch igniting a warmth that spread through her like a gentle, all-encompassing flame. Her hips may be moving against her own wishes, craving for more of the tall girl’s touch. Kori pulls away from the kiss, her lips tracing down the black haired girl’s neck —kissing, nibbling, sucking— really leaving her tender little love marks behind it. Her hands made through the sides of her thong, resting gently on the girl’s hips, her thumbs softly tracing the curves of her sides as the other fingers helped Lydia get a better grip of Kori’s thigh, helping her grind as she wishes.
Things were progressing, between their tender and lingering touches, the way the small girl started to let out soft moans during their kisses and the wetness Kori was feeling on her leg —they both really into it— As much as Kori ached to explore every inch of Lydia, to feel her completely unravel beneath her touch, she knew their stolen moment was running out. So she lingered, her lips brushing gently against
Lydia’s as she whispered, “We’ll come back to this—when it’s just us, with no one to interrupt, and nothing holding us back.”
Her eyes held the rest—every unsaid promise, every bit of longing too deep for words.
Lydia didn’t answer right away. She just looked at Kori—really looked—and in that glance was every breathless second they’d just shared. Her fingers trailed from the nape of Kori’s neck to her jaw, slow and light, as if memorizing her by touch alone.
“I’m holding you to that,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, her forehead gently resting against the blonde girl's.
Kori smiled, a soft, knowing curve of her lips. “You better.”
Just then, a knock on the closet door shattered the silence.
“Time’s up, lesbians!” Suzie called, laughter in her voice. “Either you come out, or we come in.”
Neither of them moved immediately. Lydia let out a quiet laugh and gave Kori one last kiss—brief, but full of promise—before pulling back and smoothing down her dress.
Kori reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Next time,” she said, low and steady.
Lydia nodded, still catching her breath. “Next time.”
The door creaked open, and Kori stepped out first, her hand still lightly wrapped around Lydia’s fingers. The table greeted them with a chorus of cheers, whistles, and exaggerated gasps.
“Well, well,” Suzie said, eyebrows raised and clearly far too pleased with herself. “Took your sweet time in there.”
Lydia rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the flush on her cheeks. Kori, for her part, just smirked and slid back into her seat like nothing had happened—though the lingering warmth in her eyes said otherwise.
“Did you two rearrange the coat rack, or is that just the sound of unresolved tension?” Lexi teased, raising her shot with a grin.
Kori gave a sarcastic little bow and sat beside Lydia again, slightly closer this time. “I plead the fifth.”
“To no one's surprise,” Crystal added, elbowing Suzie who was practically leaning in with wide eyes.
The bottle sat idle in the center of the table, spinning lazily from the last round, droplets of condensation gathering like it, too, was waiting to see what would happen next.
“Alright,” Sam announced, ever the one to keep the momentum going, “we're not letting the heat die now. Let’s pick up the pace—truths only, but make 'em cut deep.”
A chorus of intrigued murmurs circled the table. Kori glanced at Lydia out of the corner of her eye and caught the small smile tugging at her lips.
The bottle spun again, clinking gently on the table before landing on Jewels.
She groaned dramatically. “Okay, fine, I’m ready. But if this is about my piggies or labubus, I’m leaving.”
Lydia laughed, and the sound seemed to settle something in Kori's chest—like things weren’t just flirty anymore, she was really gonna fall hard for the girl.
Whatever the night still held, the line between a dare and desire had already been crossed.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ Bonus scene -ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-
The summer course was almost over, and between tests, projects, and way too many group chats, the group had done it all. But somewhere between the lectures and the late-night cramming, something else happened.
This isn’t about grades. It’s about the memories they made when no one was keeping score—its about all the little things they did that brought them together.
The group never officially said they were going to befriend every animal they found on campus, but it kind of just… happened.
Lydia and Kori found a couple of chunky fluffy cats near the cafeteria.
The muted orange one, the fluffball who trotted around like he had somewhere important to be, earned the name Tintin—Kori’s choice, because, as she said, “this little guy acts more like a dog than a cat.” Lydia had named the other, a silky grey thing with sleepy eyes and a tendency to stretch out dramatically on warm sidewalks. She picked Delphine after a character in one of those older black-and-white films she loved, one that Kori never heard of, but most days, the group just called her Delphie.
Then there was the iguana.
Technically, Jewels found her first—lurking under a bench near the theater, tail lazily dragging in the dirt. But Jewels had refused to get within six feet of it, so Suzie stepped in, declared ownership, and promptly named the iguana Myrtle. Or Myrthie, depending on the day. The name came from some obscure book Suzie swore was classic,The Great Gatsby or whatever, the kind Kori had already sworn she’d never read. Unfortunately, the poor thing did look like an old lady, so the name fit just right in the end.
Babybel, the owl, showed up later. Lana named her to match the cat she had back home—Gouda—and it stuck. Babybel was always there when they came creeping back in from a night out, silent and watchful as they slipped through the side door just past curfew.
After all their nights out together, without fail, it was curly fries and soft serve ice cream. Every time. Somehow it became their thing. Something sacred. No matter how fucked up they were after the night, they’d end it in the corner booth of the 24-hour diner near campus, fries hot and crisp, the swirl melting just a little too fast in its cup.
There were beach days too. Endless, sun-drenched, laughter-filled afternoons that ended with most of them burned to a crisp. They did a bit of everything: picnics with mismatched towels and yummy snacks, went full on quests for pretty seashells like they were rare treasures, sandcastle competitions broke out more than once—competitive chaos complete with moats, seashell decorations and one ambitious attempt at drawbridge that never stood a chance. One day, they even tried snorkeling—not far from the shore, just enough to see little fish darting through seagrass and feel like surveyors.
It was during one of those golden afternoons that Suzie finally—finally—confessed her feelings to Jewels. No one said anything at the time, but when Suzie pulled Jewels aside during a shell-hunting break and came back holding her hand, the entire group exchanged smug, satisfied looks. It had taken her long enough.
And those memories stuck.
For Kori, it was the way Lydia looked in her bikini—effortless, radiant, with her black locks that looked almost blue under the sun and her eyes reflecting the deep, calm blue of the ocean. The way her smile, wide and unfiltered, made Kori feel warmer than any sunbeam ever could.
For Lydia, it was how Kori’s wavy blonde hair dried in messy saltwater strands, giving her mermaid vibes, and how her dark skin shimmered in the sunlight like a precious gem. The way Kori held her in the water and sand, secure and gentle, like the ocean itself had nothing on her arms.
And there was something sacred about the car rides in Kori’s old Subaru back to campus, the way the whole group somehow managed to cram themselves in with limbs overlapping and snacks wedged between seats. Lydia always rode shotgun—no debate, no question—like the passenger princess she was proudly born to be.
The windows were always down, hair whipping in the wind as music blasted through the speakers. It was never just background noise—it was a full-on singalong soundtrack to their memories. And through it all, Kori’s hand always found Lydia’s, resting together on the center console like gravity pulled them there. Sometimes they didn’t even talk. Just held hands, wind in their faces, voices raised in messy harmony, the world blurring by outside their little moving bubble of warmth and love.
Most nights, since the start of summer, Lydia had been sleeping in Kori’s bed. It wasn’t something they planned—it just happened, natural and easy, the way some of the best things do. One night turned into two. Two turned into a week. And after that, it just sort of drifted into the habit, it stopped feeling temporary, it became normal.
Aftercare wasn’t just a word—it was a language they used together. There was a rhythm to it now. A ritual. A kind of care that made them both feel held. A quick rinse in the shower, their quiet laughter echoing off tile as they traded shampoo and sleepy kisses. Brushing their teeth side by side, spitting toothpaste between dumb jokes and soft glances. Then came skincare—gentle fingers smoothing product into each other's faces, like a form of worship. Kori occasionally offered Lydia a shoulder rub afterward, slow and steady. Lydia returned the favor with a careful touch, fingertips tracing circles between Kori’s shoulder blades until tension melted beneath her hands.
Eventually, they’d curl up in bed, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other. Most times Lydia was the little spoon, tucked under Kori’s chin. Fingers threaded through curls or wavy strands, lazy kisses pressed to temples, collarbones, cheeks. They whispered to each other like the whole world was asleep and only they remained, voices soft and full of everything they didn’t always say during the day.
One night, as the breeze drifted in through the cracked window and the ceiling fan hummed softly above them, in that perfect in-between of tiredness and content, Kori brushed her lips against Lydia’s temple and mumbled, “I’m gonna give you my last name.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow, chest tightening in the best way. She tilted her head up just enough to catch Kori’s eyes in the dim light. “Is this a proposal or sleep talk?”
Kori gave a slow grin. “Maybe a little of both.”
Lydia reached up, brushing her thumb over Kori’s cheek, her voice soft with something like wonder. “Lydia B. King doesn’t feel right. But Lydia B. Kollins King is too long.”
“Lydia B. King Kollins?” Kori offered, sleepy-eyed but curious.
“Better,” Lydia said, yawning. “Still a bit of a mouthful but it fits.”
Kori shrugged and smiled up at her. “Worth it. It already belongs to you.”
Lydia didn’t answer with words. She just leaned in and kissed her, slow and sure.
They were already official. Had been since the night Lydia had surprised Kori with matching rings—simple bands, one etched with a sun, the other with a moon. She had made them herself, quiet hours spent crafting something permanent. The sun reminded her of Kori—the way she shined, the way she warmed every part of Lydia’s life without even trying. The moon reminded Kori of Lydia—her softness, her mystery, the way she felt constant and calm even in the chaos. Their initials were carved on the inside. Not for show. Just for each other.
They lay there for a moment longer, fingers tangled, hearts steady.
Then Lydia whispered, “Come on.”
Kori blinked, not quite following. “What?”
“Let’s go to the roof,” Lydia said, already sliding out of bed, pulling Kori gently with her. “Let’s watch the sunrise.”
And they did—both in Kori’s sweaters, quiet, hand in hand. With the early morning sky painted in shades of gold and lavender, and the whole world hushed around them, it was easy to believe that love could stay this soft forever.