chapter one:
[Amara third person point of view]
Amara groaned softly as the sunlight streamed through the blinds, piercing her closed eyelids. Her head throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of the drinks she'd inhaled the night before. She shifted slightly, the unfamiliar weight of an arm draped across her waist making her freeze. Her eyes snapped open, and her gaze darted to the source of the warmth beside her.
A woman lay sprawled across the bed, her face buried in the pillow, dark curls cascading messily over her bare shoulders. Amara blinked, her mind racing as fragments of the previous night began to piece themselves together. The club. The drinks. The laughter. And then... the sex.
"Shit," Amara muttered under her breath, carefully lifting the stranger's arm off her waist. "Please don't wake up, please don't wake up."
She sat up, the sheet slipping down her body, and scanned the room. Her clothes were scattered across the floor, a chaotic trail leading to the door. She spotted her jeans tangled with a bra that definitely wasn't hers and her graphic tee hanging precariously from the edge of a chai.
Amara swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool hardwood floor. She winced as the movement sent a fresh wave of discomfort through her head. Ignoring the pounding in her skull, she reached for her jeans, untangling them from the foreign bra as quietly as possible. Her heart raced with every subtle creak of the bed, her eyes flickering back to the sleeping woman.
The stranger shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent into the pillow. Amara froze, clutching her jeans to her chest, holding her breath as if even the sound of her heartbeat might wake her. When the woman settled back into stillness, Amara exhaled softly, her shoulders sagging in relief.
She quickly pulled on her jeans, hopping slightly as she struggled to get them over her hips without making too much noise. Her shirt was next, and she grabbed it from the chair with a swift tug, nearly knocking the chair over in her haste. She caught it just in time, her fingers gripping the backrest as it wobbled precariously.
"Come on, come on," she whispered to herself, pulling the graphic tee over her head. Her eyes darted around the room again, searching for her shoes. They were by the door, one lying on its side and the other upright. She tiptoed across the floor, wincing at every creak the old boards betrayed beneath her weight.
Reaching the door, she crouched to grab her shoes, slipping them on quickly. Her fingers fumbled with the laces for a moment before she straightened, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Amara cast one last glance at the woman on the bed, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep. For a brief moment, guilt bubbled up in her chest, but she quickly shoved it down.
Turning the knob as slowly as possible, she cracked the door open, the faintest sliver of light spilling into the room. The hallway beyond was quiet, Except for the faint hum of what seemed to be an air conditioner, the silence was unbroken. Amara slipped through the gap, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click.
