Show Me

The night swirled around me in a haze of laughter and flashing lights, the pulse of the music vibrating through my chest as I downed another shot. The dinner party had turned into something electric, buzzing with the anticipation of what was to come. My body was warm, the alcohol washing over me in waves, erasing any lingering heaviness from earlier. Now, there was only hunger—hunger for energy, for movement, for something that would keep me floating.

I pushed up from my chair, barely steady, but charged with a new purpose. "We're leaving," I announced, my voice rising over the music in my suite.

A chorus of cheers and agreements followed, and within minutes, we were piling into cars, bodies pressed together, perfume and sweat mixing in the confined space. Stefani ended up beside me in the backseat, her hand lazily resting on my thigh as the driver sped toward the club.

I turned my head slightly, catching the way the streetlights flashed across her face, illuminating something in her eyes. It was quick, just a flicker, but the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was not innocence.

I started to process it, but my brain—too clouded, too overstimulated—let the thought slip away as easily as it came.

When we arrived, the scene was familiar. The music, the dimly lit dance floor, the deep red glow of the club's walls—it was the same as last night, but somehow, I felt like I had been here far longer than that. The déjà vu wrapped itself around me like a fever dream, but I welcomed it.

Stefani's hand was still in mine as I led her through the crowd, straight to the bar. "Two gin and tonics," I ordered in Spanish, my words slightly slurred but confident.

We clinked glasses, both downing the drinks in one go, the alcohol burning through the last of my restraint. I barely had time to set my glass down before a firm hand wrapped around my waist.

Stefani shifted immediately, stepping aside just enough for me to see who it was.

A blonde woman.

The blonde woman.

Memories of the night before hit me all at once—her hands gripping my hips, her mouth trailing down my neck, the heat between us in the darkness of my hotel room.

She smirked. "I was disappointed when you didn't call me," she said, her voice smooth, teasing. "But I know last night was too good to pass up again."

I barely had time to react before Stefani's body was suddenly between us, her presence like a wall, like a claim.

"She's accounted for," Stefani snapped, voice sharp, unwavering. "She won't be joining you tonight."

The blonde woman scoffed, rolling her eyes as she leaned around Stefani to meet my gaze. "Call me later," she said. "I'll be around."

I smirked, humming noncommittally.

Stefani turned to me then, something stormy in her face, and before I could say anything, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the crowd. I stumbled behind her, barely keeping up, the air between us crackling with something unspoken.

We shoved into the bathroom, and Stefani slammed the door shut behind us.

I let out a breathless laugh, still drunk, still buzzing. "What the hell is your problem?"

Her eyes were blazing when she turned to me. "Do not do that in front of me anymore," she seethed.

I blinked, taken aback. "Do what?"

She stepped closer, her hands coming to my shoulders, shoving me—not hard, but firm enough to make a point—against the wall. My breath hitched at the force of it, the intensity in her eyes sending a sharp thrill through me.

"You know exactly what," she growled.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across my lips. "Don't start something you can't finish, Stefani."

I grabbed her wrists, peeling them off my shoulders, and in one swift movement, I turned her around, pressing her back against the wall instead.

She gasped, a soft moan slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

That sound sent something deep and primal twisting in my gut.

Stefani's breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared at me with something wild, something desperate. "Show me," she whispered, her voice wrecked. "Stop talking shit and show me."

Before I could think, before I could second-guess, I crashed my lips against hers.

The kiss was fire, heat, teeth clashing in a frenzy of need. She moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed it, my fingers threading into her platinum hair, gripping hard as I deepened the kiss.

Her hands found my waist, nails digging in as she pulled me closer, pressing our bodies flush together.

I reached down, grabbing her leg by the knee and hitching it up against my hip, pinning her completely against the wall. She gasped again, her hands flying to my shoulders, gripping onto me like I was the only thing keeping her standing.

I pushed into her, rolling my hips slightly, teasing, testing. She whimpered against my lips, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her lips were swollen, her pupils blown wide, her breath shaky.

Fuck.

I wanted her.

I wanted her so badly I could taste it.

But before I could move, before I could say anything—

A knock on the door.

We both froze.

"Lena! Stefani!"

Tara's voice snapped us back to reality, and I immediately stepped back, letting Stefani's leg drop as we caught our breath.

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind reeling, my body still burning.

Stefani didn't look at me. She just straightened her clothes, exhaling sharply before unlocking the door.

Tara stood there, eyebrows raised. "Are you two seriously hiding in here?"

I forced out a laugh, stepping past Stefani like nothing had happened. "Had to freshen up."

Tara rolled her eyes, grabbing my hand. "Well, hurry up. We're going back to the section."

As she pulled me away, I felt it—the weight of Stefani's stare burning into my back.

As we all made our way back to the section, I felt a hand on my waist pulling me into them. I turned, and it was the blonde. She did not seem discouraged from Stafani's words earlier.

Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped a hand around my wrist, tugging me toward the dance floor.

I hesitated, glancing back at Stefani. But she didn't say anything. Didn't stop me. She just stared, her expression unreadable, before looking away completely.

Oh. That's how it was going to be?

Fine.

If Stefani wanted to play that game, I would too.

I turned back to the blonde and grabbed her face, crashing my lips onto hers. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't careful. It was rough and hard, the kind of kiss that was meant to distract, to numb. There was no taste of passion, just pure, unfiltered lust. And she matched my energy, pulling me closer, her hands wandering as our bodies moved together in sync with the music.

I could feel eyes on me.

I didn't have to look to know they were hers.

Still, I refused to acknowledge it. If she didn't care, then neither did I.

The blonde and I kept dancing, kept kissing, my mind clouded by alcohol, by adrenaline, by the desire to forget whatever the hell had just happened in that bathroom.

But before I could fully lose myself in the moment, an arm hooked around mine and yanked me away.

Tara.

"That's enough," she said, shooting a glance at the blonde before giving her a tight-lipped smile. "She'll call you later."

The blonde rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She simply shrugged and disappeared back into the crowd as Tara dragged me toward the exit where the rest of the crew was waiting.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I was a mess. Sloppy, drunk, exhausted.

Tara practically carried me into my room, setting me down on the edge of my bed. She sighed, shaking her head before helping me out of my tight dress and into an oversized t-shirt.

"You good?" she asked, brushing a hand over my forehead.

"Mmhmm," I hummed, already sinking into the mattress.

She stood there for a moment, making sure I wasn't about to do something reckless, then nodded. "Alright. Get some sleep, superstar."

As she turned toward the door, I heard it. Another set of footsteps.

Then, laughter.

Tara sighed. "Jesus Christ, you too?"

I sat up just as Stefani walked into the room, her eyeliner slightly smudged, her hair a little messy, but still gorgeous. She looked at Tara, then at me, and muttered, "I'm there as well."

Tara shook her head, mumbling something about me being a handful before finally leaving and shutting the door behind her.

The moment she was gone, Stefani stormed forward, climbing onto the bed and straddling my lap.

My breath caught.

"Stefani," I muttered.

She cupped my face, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded from whatever she had been drinking, whatever she had been smoking. "We cannot do this," I said, though my hands had already found their way to her hips.

She tilted her head, pretending to think about it. "And why not?"

I swallowed, my heart racing. "Because you won't be able to stop once we start."

Silence.

Then, a slow, wicked smile spread across her lips.

"Who said I wanted to?"