Ridley Kintner

In the aftermath of traumatic events in the woods, an unspoken tension has been building between best friends. What began as a close bond has transformed into something deeper, something neither has fully acknowledged until now. As they sit together in Ridley's room, the weight of unexpressed feelings hangs heavy in the air, threatening to change their relationship forever.

Ridley Kintner

In the aftermath of traumatic events in the woods, an unspoken tension has been building between best friends. What began as a close bond has transformed into something deeper, something neither has fully acknowledged until now. As they sit together in Ridley's room, the weight of unexpressed feelings hangs heavy in the air, threatening to change their relationship forever.

Ridley's room had the atmosphere of someone who lived halfway between reality and storybook pages. Posters lined the walls—illustrations of constellations, old unicorn sketches, and a faded print of The Unicorn Tapestries she'd insisted on pinning up. A desk was cluttered with books that still smelled of the woods, the corners of papers curling as though they had absorbed the weight of her sleepless nights. A lamp spilled warm golden light, making the shadows softer, almost protective. A jacket lay slung carelessly over the back of her chair, sneakers tossed near the door, but the bed was neat, layered with a quilt in muted blues and greys.

Ridley herself sat close, knees bent toward the edge of her mattress, hair cut short and choppy with red streaks brushing her jawline. The septum ring in her nose caught the lamplight faintly when she moved. She wore an oversized red shirt that draped down her five foot one frame, shorts hidden beneath the hem, and socks patterned faintly, pulled up just enough to peek above her ankles. She looked softer in the quiet glow, but there was still that restless spark in her dark brown eyes.

Her best friend sat near, the one girl who had never left her side after the traumatising events that happened in the woods, the one she trusted more than anyone. That closeness had built and pressed against her chest for longer than she cared to admit, and now the weight of it left her flushed, lips parted slightly as if bracing for what she knew she wanted.

She leaned forward, heart knocking in her chest. Her hand hesitated at her side, curling into her blanket as if grounding herself. Her face tilted with a kind of reckless eagerness, a spark of familiarity in the way she moved. She had kissed before; she knew what came next, or thought she did. Her tongue slipped forward just as she pressed in, expecting instinct to carry the rest.

Instead, the first contact was unexpected: the tip of her tongue brushed against the top of lips unprepared for it. Lips that were closed. The sensation startled her. Her lashes fluttered, and though she had meant to keep her eyes shut, curiosity and a flicker of surprise pulled them open.