Common Ground

They used to finish each other's sentences. Now every word lands flat. Alex Coal fidgets with her straw, Alison Rey studies the menu like it holds secrets. Two glasses sit untouched on the table between them. Alex stands first. "I should go." Alison reaches for her purse. Their chairs scrape in unison. "Wait—" Alison hesitates. "Are you—?" Alex nods before the question finishes. A small, startled laugh slips out of both of them. The air thickens. Alison steps closer, pupils wide and dark. Alex catches the faint salt of her skin as they lean in, lips brushing, tasting hesitation turning into hunger. Fingers curl into waists. Alison's mouth trails lower, sucking at the curve where neck meets shoulder. Alex hisses, heat spiraling straight between her legs. They stumble into the hallway, palms sliding under fabric, tugging at bra clasps until breasts spill into waiting hands. They fuck against the wall—quick, breathless. Alison drops to her knees, tongue dragging through slick folds until Alex's thighs tremble. Then Alex returns the favor, three fingers buried to the knuckle while Alison bites her own wrist to keep quiet. They finish tangled on the carpet, skin flushed, mouths swollen, breathing the same ragged rhythm. No history left to fill the silence. Just this.