She's Half Your Age!

Everly stretches on her bed, all legs and soft light, when the door opens. Rachael stands there in the doorway, fingertips gripping the knob. "Mind if I come in?" "Of course," Everly answers, smiling without rising. Rachael sits on the edge of the mattress, perfume threading between them. She folds her hands, then admits the point. "I’ve started seeing someone younger. I… need your advice." Everly’s curiosity sharpens. She leans closer, voice low. "Who is she?" One answer spills into the next—hair color, laugh, favorite lipstick. Each detail slots into the same space, each match perfect, each inch closer than polite. Everly studies her, eyes narrowing until the air tightens. "You’re describing me," she says. Silence hovers, full and electric. Rachael’s breath catches, then releases with the truth. "I was trying to get close to you." The surprise sweetens, melts into an answering grin on Everly’s lips. "I’ve thought about it, too," she whispers. Then her hand is at the back of Rachael’s neck, pulling them together. The kiss lands deep, demanding, knees brushing, fingers curling into silk. For a moment nothing else matters—no substitute girl, no nearlys—just mouths meeting and bodies already drawn tight, the real thing right where it started.