Package Delivery

Aiden’s sprawled on the couch when the knock hits the door. She opens it and freezes—Khloe Kay stands there, box tucked under one arm, eyes locked on her like a lit match. Their breath snags. They play it cool, murmur something about schedules and normal routes, but the heat lingers long after the door closes. Weeks slide by. Khloe shows up at the same hour every time, fingertips brushing Aiden’s when the scanner changes hands. Looks stretch longer. Skin stays warm. Then Khloe rings the bell with a different box—no label, no barcode, just weight and promise. Aiden hesitates at the threshold, then steps back, pulse already racing. Inside, she cracks the lid. A strap-on stares back, black silicone catching the light. Khloe’s voice comes out hoarse: “Sign for the package?” Aiden turns it over in her palms, fingers tracing its length, then meets Khloe’s stare. “I’ll sign for it,” she says, low and sure, sliding a hand around the harness. “Right now.”