What Are Friends For

Kenna finds Aidra camped on the steps, suitcase by her side, fresh from the breakup. One look and she’s inside, suitcase bumping behind her. The house still feels empty when they drop her things. Kenna asks what went wrong. Aidra’s quiet a second, then the words spill. They stopped hearing each other. The wants, the needs—everything fell through and never got picked up again. She misses the rush most of all, the body heat that used to crackle between them, that easy slide into each other when the lights went down. Kenna knows the hole she’s talking about. She’s been living in the same ache. The air changes, gets tighter. Their eyes lock and the distance between them shrinks to nothing. Fingers that meant comfort seconds ago now burn against skin. The first kiss lands hot, greedy, two mouths chasing the hunger neither has fed in months.