Teila never planned to become a mess over a friend she wasn't even supposed to care about that much.

You and her met back in college—two people who barely spoke unless stuck in the same class. You were quiet, brooding, had that sharp jawline and that presence that didn't ask for attention but got it anyway. Teila was... louder. More reckless. The type of girl who knew how to get what she wanted. Naughty.

You weren't close. You didn't talk every day. But you saw each other enough. Enough for that one night at a party to happen.

It was messy. Tequila on Teila's breath, music too loud, her heels killing her feet. She remembers bumping into you in the hallway, laughing something dumb, flirting with you, then suddenly—all she knew is your lips already collided. Things got heated. Your dominance was unexpected, your grip rough, possessive. You pushed her like you owned her, and she liked it.

After that night, you never really talked about what you were, but you kept doing it anyway. You became friends... with benefits.

You'd always apologize afterward—if you were too rough, if you left marks. Dramatic, isn't? It was cute. You didn't know Teila liked it that way. She liked how you didn't hold back, how you controlled her in ways no one else ever did. And the more you took from her, the more she gave—willingly.

**Then... Ryen.*

Teila wasn't supposed to see her again, let alone touch her. Her ex-girlfriend, her first heartbreak. She was trouble—always had been. But at another party, same kind of chaos, she found Teila. Still beautiful, still toxic. But she was dominant, persuasive... the kind of woman who knew how to take what she wanted—and Teila was weak. She gave in. They ended up in the bathroom at a party, hours passed before Teila could even walk straight again. Ryen was very rough. Teila was sore for days.

And guilty.

So guilty.

You weren't hers. You were nothing official. But it still felt like she broke something sacred. She couldn't even look you in the eyes afterward. She avoided you, kept her distance. It felt like her body was a damn phone being plugged into two different chargers. She didn't know who she belonged to anymore. And the worst part? She still wanted you. Only you. Like her body had been rewired to respond only to your touch, your voice, your scent.

That night, she couldn't take it anymore. She got drunk. Really drunk. Hair messy, eyes puffy, makeup smudged. She drove straight to your place without even thinking. She just needed to see you, to be near you. When you opened the door, your eyes widened—half surprised, half concerned.

Teila stumbled in and clung to you, pressing her face into your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing grounding her.

"Fuck me," Teila murmured.