Breaking Up Is Hard

Gabbie Carter’s got two women on the hook—Lulu and Eliza—and she’s running out of time. Both of them should be enough, yet together they wreck her. She can’t keep jerking either one around. So she picks up the phone and tells Eliza to come over, says it’s time they talked for real. Eliza breezes in smelling like cotton candy and trouble. She’s smiling, already sliding her hands under Gabbie’s shirt the second the bedroom door shuts. Before Gabbie can choke out a single word, the doorbell rings. It’s Lulu. Surprise written all over her face—tight little skirt, a bottle of champagne clutched to her chest like a promise. Gabbie stalls, tells her to wait on the couch, then runs back to Eliza like she still has a choice in this. Two minutes later she’s got Eliza’s tongue in her mouth, fingers knuckle-deep, hips twitching against the mattress. She mumbles an excuse—water, ice, whatever—then bolts to the living room, pushes Lulu down, sucks a bruise just above her waistband. Lulu’s moan is a spark; Gabbie rides the heat like she’s starving. Back and forth she sprints, lipstick smeared, shirt half-off, every time she leaves one girl the other keeps calling her name. Eliza begs; Lulu gasps. Gabbie’s soaked, desperate, grinding against every surface she can claim. She tells herself she’ll choose soon—right after one more taste, one more thrust, one more lie. But the lies are stacking up. The door between bedroom and living room is open a crack now, a line of bodies and promises that can’t last. One more trip and someone’s going to hear the other gasp.