Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Carla stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine, and topped off her glass. “I’m serious.”

“Carla, how drunk are you to think that what you just said actually sounds like a good idea?” Lisa asked.

“I’m fine. Almost sober. And I never said it was a good idea—I just said it was an idea,” Carla replied.

She walked back into the living room, dropped into the chair, and set her wine on the coffee table.

 “I distinctly heard you say, ‘I have a great idea to help you get over your Fanny fright.’ Big cringe, by the way.”

“There you go, then. I never used the word good—I said great,” Carla chuckled.

Lisa couldn’t take her seriously right now. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut about her anxiety. If she had, they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

“You and I having sex doesn’t sound like a great idea to me,” Lisa said, taking a sip of her wine.

“Excuse me—I’m very good in bed. I’ve been told by many, many men.”

“Exactly. Many men. And what am I?”

“A… police officer?”

“You’re not even funny. I’m serious—I’m a woman.”

“You’re a woman? Really? I never would’ve guessed,” Carla said dryly. “I know you’re a woman, Lisa.”

“Okay, and you are also a woman,” Lisa replied.

“Yes, that’s right, Captain Obvious. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m a lesbian. You’re straight.”

“More breaking news—I know I’m straight.”

“I don’t even find you attractive,” Lisa said.

“Now I know you’re lying. I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Carla shot back.

This was getting ridiculous. If Lisa actually came on to Carla, the brunette would probably bolt—and honestly, it would be funny to watch. But Lisa wasn’t ever going to cross that line.

“Okay, fine. Yes, you’re attractive—in a very obvious, conventionally hot kind of way. But I don’t fancy you. We’re friends, and I just… don’t see you like that.”

“Lisa, you can’t seriously tell me you’ve only slept with women you were wildly attracted to,” Carla said, her voice low but insistent.

Lisa hesitated. “Well… no.”

“Exactly. This isn’t about romance. It’s about helping you get over your nerves so you can go after the women you do want.”

“Carla, in theory it sounds like a decent idea, but—”

Lisa cut herself off as she stood, walked across the room, and stopped in front of Carla’s chair. Without another word, she dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on the brunette’s.

Slowly, deliberately, she placed her hands on Carla’s thighs, parting them just enough to slide between.

“If I actually took you up on your offer,” Lisa said, her voice quiet but charged, “we both know you’d panic and bolt.”

Carla didn’t move. Her breath hitched—but she didn’t look away.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Carla breathed.

Lisa watched her closely. Carla’s pupils had blown wide, and her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the chair.

“That’s only because I haven’t actually done anything,” Lisa whispered.

She ran a single finger slowly up the inside of Carla’s thigh. The air between them tightened. They both knew they were toeing a dangerous line—one they couldn’t un-cross.

Lisa wasn’t trying to seduce her. She was trying to make a point.

She needed Carla to admit it—this wasn’t what she really wanted. It was the wine talking. The moment. The dare.

Not desire.

Carla didn’t speak. Her chest rose and fell a little faster now, but she stayed still—watching Lisa like she was waiting to see just how far she’d go.

Lisa let her hand drift higher, tracing light, maddening circles just above Carla’s knee, inching up again—slow, deliberate, calculated. Her touch wasn’t rushed; it was testing, teasing, daring.

“You’re still here,” Lisa murmured, leaning in close enough for Carla to feel the heat of her breath, “but for how much longer?”

Carla’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her hands gripped the chair tighter, her legs tensed—uncertain if she wanted to pull away or pull Lisa in.

Lisa didn’t give her the choice. She leaned closer, their faces inches apart, her eyes flicking between Carla’s mouth and her eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Lisa whispered. “Say it, and I will.”

But Carla said nothing.

Lisa’s lips hovered just short of a kiss—so close Carla could probably feel the warmth. It was right there, on a knife’s edge.

And then—

Bzzz. Bzzz.

The sudden vibration of Lisa’s phone on the coffee table shattered the moment like glass.

She blinked, pulled back an inch, and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The tension snapped like a rubber band.

Carla exhaled shakily, her eyes darting to the buzzing phone, as if it were some kind of lifeline. Lisa sat back on her heels, heart pounding harder than she liked to admit.

Reality had come calling—and neither of them could pretend it hadn’t just happened.

Lisa checked her phone. A text from Betsy lit up the screen: Staying at Sabrina’s tonight. Don’t wait up.

So… she wasn’t needed at home. There was no real reason to leave.

She could stay. A little longer.

But now, she wasn’t sure if Carla still wanted her to.

“Everything okay?” Carla asked, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” Lisa said, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “Betsy’s just letting me know she’s not coming home tonight.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Then… another drink?”

Lisa hesitated, then gave a faint smile. “I probably shouldn’t. But one more won’t hurt.”

They poured another glass. Then another.

The bottle sat almost empty on the table between them, casting long shadows in the dim light of the living room. Conversation had turned quieter now, looser—more confessional. Laughter came easier, but so did the silences, the ones that felt more like pauses than gaps.

Lisa had stretched out on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, while Carla stayed in the armchair, now slouched and barefoot, wine glass resting lazily in her hand.

“So,” Carla said, tilting her head. “Are you actually planning to drive home after all that?”

Lisa blinked slowly, looking over at the bottle. “Mmm… probably not my smartest move.”

“Good,” Carla said, sitting up a little. “Spare room’s made up. You can crash there.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Carla shrugged, suddenly casual. “Yeah. Unless you’d rather sleep on the sofa and risk back pain and existential dread.”

Lisa chuckled softly. “Tempting, but I’ll take the bed.”

There was a pause—brief, but charged—before Carla stood and stretched, the hem of her oversized shirt lifting just slightly.

“I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in,” she said, already heading toward the hallway. “Unless you’re planning to sleep in your jeans. In which case, you’re more of a masochist than I thought.”

Lisa watched her disappear down the hallway, her smile fading into something quieter. Softer. She wasn’t sure what any of this was anymore—but she knew she didn’t want to leave just yet.

Carla returned a few minutes later with a small bundle of clothes in her arms—soft cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt folded neatly. She handed them to Lisa without a word.

“Should fit okay,” Carla said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Perfect,” Lisa replied, managing a soft smile.

They stood there for a beat too long—neither quite ready to break the moment. Then Carla leaned in, just a little, eyes flicking to Lisa’s lips.

But before she could get too close, Lisa gently lifted a hand and placed two fingers against Carla’s mouth—light, but firm.

“Carla…” she said quietly, “we’ve both had a skinful. And I don’t want us to do something we’ll regret in the morning.”

Carla stilled, her breath warm against Lisa’s fingers. For a second, her expression didn’t change—then she nodded, once, slow and small.

“No regrets,” she murmured, stepping back.

“Good night,” Lisa said softly.

“’Night,” Carla replied, already turning toward her room.

Lisa watched her disappear down the hall. The quiet click of Carla’s bedroom door closing echoed a little louder than it should have in the silence.

Lisa let out a slow breath, turned, and stepped into the spare room. She shut the door behind her, changed into the clothes Carla had given her, and climbed into the cool, unfamiliar bed.

As she lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, the wine still warm in her veins, one thought circled in her mind—over and over.

Carla.

The room was dark, quiet—too quiet. Lisa lay still beneath the sheets, staring at the ceiling, her mind far from sleep.

Did she fancy Carla?

She’d never really let herself think about it like that before. Carla was her friend. Loud, infuriating, funny, flirtatious—but always Carla. There’d been no reason to question it. Or maybe… she’d just never allowed herself to.

But tonight something stirred. Not just the wine, not just the proximity—something deeper. The way Carla’s voice had dropped, the look in her eyes, the charged pause between them right before Lisa had stopped it.

God, it would’ve been so easy not to.

She shifted under the blanket, heart beating a little faster now. Her body felt warmer than it should’ve. Restless. A low, simmering heat that hadn’t been there for a long time—or maybe had been, and she’d just ignored it.

Almost without thinking, her hand slipped beneath the waistband of her borrowed shorts, then into her knickers. Her fingers stilled.

She was wet. Really wet.

Wetter than she had been in… she couldn’t even remember.

And Carla hadn’t even touched her.

Not really.

Lisa let her eyes flutter shut for a second, her breath catching. The realisation hit harder than she expected—like her body had been writing truths her mind wasn’t ready to read.

She withdrew her hand, placed it over her stomach, and stared at the ceiling once more, her pulse still fluttering.

What the hell am I doing?

Lisa’s body was still humming—too full, too alive to ignore.

She let her hand drift lower again, slower this time, more intentional. Her breath grew shallower as her fingers moved, teasing the edge of that need she hadn’t acknowledged in so long. The tension in her chest, in her limbs, in her mind—it all coiled tighter, heat building low and urgent.

Her thoughts blurred—Carla’s voice, her mouth, the press of her body so close earlier, the what-ifs and almosts flooding back in vivid, aching detail.

Lisa bit her lip, her head tilting back into the pillow as sensation overtook hesitation.

She moved faster now, chasing it—this release, this craving. It didn’t feel like just lust. It felt like something overdue. Something she’d been denying.

And then, in the final, trembling moments, as the tension snapped and pleasure surged through her, her voice slipped out of her without warning—

“Carla…”

Soft. Barely audible.

But it was there.

Real.

Lisa lay still afterward, her heart pounding in her chest, her body loose but her mind spinning.

She hadn’t meant to say it.

Hadn’t planned to.

But she had.

And she couldn’t take it back.

Chapter Text

Carla climbed into bed, pulled the covers up, and let herself sink into the quiet. She slid a hand beneath the waistband of her underwear — and, just as she expected, she was soaked. Lisa hadn’t even laid a finger on her. She didn’t need to. The teasing, the tension between them — it was electric. They both knew they hadn’t crossed that line… and maybe they never would. But the thought of it alone had driven Carla wild.

Her breath caught as she reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out the small, familiar shape of her vibrator. It was discreet, quiet — something she’d barely touched in weeks. But tonight, she needed it. Craved it.

She lay back against the pillows, legs parting slowly beneath the sheets, her fingers steady but her mind racing.

It was Lisa she saw behind her closed eyes.

Lisa’s mouth — warm, insistent, teasing — tracing its way across her skin. Her hands, confident and slow, moving over her body like they knew every inch. Carla bit her lip, a soft gasp escaping as she pressed the vibrator against herself, the first shiver of pleasure blooming through her.

She imagined Lisa’s fingers inside her — gentle at first, then deeper, firmer — the kind of rhythm only someone who really watched her could give. Someone who knew her. Carla arched her back, her free hand clutching the sheets.

Everything about Lisa — her voice, her scent, the way her eyes lingered — came flooding in.

It didn’t take long. The pressure built fast, curling hot and sharp low in her belly until it burst. Carla muffled her moan against the back of her wrist, trembling through the release, legs trembling, breath ragged.

Afterward, she lay still, the silence around her somehow louder now. A mix of guilt and longing settled over her — but even that couldn’t erase the truth.

She wanted Lisa. Not just in fantasy.

In real life.

Carla had tossed and turned for most of the night, sleep never fully settling in. By the time pale morning light began to filter through the curtains, she gave up entirely. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of Lisa—what she’d suggested, what it might feel like to touch her, to be touched by her.

Just one friend helping another. That’s all it would be.

She slipped out of bed, the lingering buzz from the wine still humming faintly in her veins. Not enough to cloud her judgment—just enough to give her cover if she needed it.

Padding quietly down the hall, she stopped outside the spare room and hesitated, heart thudding. Then she knocked softly.

“Lisa… are you awake?”

There was no reply.

Carla knew she should take that as a sign—a silent no, a cue to go back to bed and forget this whole thing. But then she heard it.

“Carla? Is everything okay?”

She pushed the door open, stepping slowly into the room. The soft creak of the hinges felt louder than it should have. She stopped just short of the bed, her heart pounding against her ribs. She should turn around. She should stop this. The idea had been ridiculous—something blurted out under too much wine and too little sense.

But still, she stood there.

Just helping a friend, she told herself as she took a slow breath and lifted the duvet.

She slid into bed beside Lisa, careful, quiet, her movements unsure. She turned onto her side, reached out, and gently brushed a stray hair from Lisa’s face.

Lisa blinked. “Carla… what are you doing?”

Carla’s voice was barely a whisper. “Helping you with your fanny fright.”

Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to Lisa’s.

It was soft. Tentative. A kiss that asked more than it took. And in that moment, Carla knew—if Lisa kissed her back, then this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe they’d regret it in the harsh light of day.

But right now?

There was no regret. At least not from her side.

For a moment, Lisa didn’t move.

Carla was about to pull away, heart caught in her throat, when she felt it—Lisa’s lips pressing softly back against hers. A slow, cautious response that deepened with intent. It was enough. More than enough.

Then Lisa shifted, rolling Carla gently onto her back, her hands braced on either side. She hovered above her, eyes searching hers, breath warm and uneven.

“Are you sure this won’t change things?” Lisa asked quietly. “Our friendship?”

Carla reached up, brushing her fingers against Lisa’s cheek, her touch light but steady.

“No,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “We’ll be fine. It won’t change anything. We don’t even have to talk about it again.”

Lisa didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed locked on Carla’s for a long, unreadable second—like she wanted to believe her but wasn’t sure she could.

Then she dipped her head, kissed her again—deeper this time.

Lisa’s kiss turned harder. Less questioning. Her hands found Carla’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress, firm but not cruel — just enough to say I’m in control now. Carla’s breath hitched, and her thighs instinctively tightened around Lisa’s hips.

There was no tenderness in it — not right now. No slow burn or whispered confessions. Just hunger, sudden and sharp, like they’d both been teetering on this edge for too long and the fall had finally come.

Lisa pulled back just long enough to yank Carla’s borrowed shirt over her head, tossing it aside without a second thought. Carla's eyes flicked down, unapologetically raking over her friend’s bare skin.

“You still think this won’t change anything?” Lisa asked, voice low and rough.

Carla smirked, though her pulse was pounding. “As long as you don’t get addicted. It’s just this once—we’ll be fine.”

Lisa’s laugh was dark and breathless — the kind that said this is dangerous and we both know it. But she didn’t stop.

Carla should’ve felt nervous—this was uncharted territory, completely outside anything she’d ever imagined. But all she felt was heat, coiled low and urgent. She was turned on—aching, desperate—and the only thing she wanted was for Lisa to touch her.

Lisa grabbed the hem of Carla’s top and slowly pulled it over her head. Carla’s nipples immediately hardened, aching for attention. Within seconds, Lisa’s mouth was on her right nipple—sucking and nibbling with delicious intent. At the same time, Lisa slipped a thigh between Carla’s legs. Without hesitation, Carla ground down against it, completely unbothered by how wet she already was.

This was Lisa—her best friend, a woman, and their running joke: a police officer. But Carla didn’t think she’d ever been this turned on before, and Lisa had barely even touched her yet.

“Fuck, Carla, you’re soaked,” Lisa moaned, her hand moving to her left nipple as she pinched the right between her fingers. Then, she bit down gently on the right nipple, making Carla hiss and arch into Lisa’s thigh.

Carla needed some relief, so she began grinding against Lisa’s thigh, her breath hitching with each motion.

“Ugh, no,” Lisa murmured with a smirk, her voice firm but teasing. “You’re not coming just from riding my thigh.” Slowly, she shifted out from under Carla, her hands gliding down to tug off Carla’s pajama bottoms and underwear in one fluid motion.

Carla blushed but didn’t stop her. “I wasn’t sure if you were really up for this,” she admitted, voice breathy. “You said you were nervous about having sex again, and… I’m so turned on, it won’t take much.”

Lisa didn’t respond right away. Instead, her fingers found Carla’s slick folds, drawing slow, deliberate circles around her clit with perfect pressure. Carla’s hips jerked at the touch. A moment later, one finger teased her entrance, then slid inside, followed closely by another, moving in tandem with a practiced rhythm.

“Oh God—”

“Lisa is fine,” she cut in with a grin. “I’d even settle for Detective.”

Carla couldn’t find the words to respond. Her mouth fell open, but before she could speak, Lisa slid a third finger inside her, the motion deep and unrelenting. At the same moment, her thumb pressed firmly against Carla’s clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles that made coherent thought impossible.

Lisa curled her fingers, pressing firmly against the sweet spot deep inside her. Carla clutched the sheets with one hand, the other digging into Lisa’s hip for balance as she met each thrust with a desperate grind of her own. She moaned, cursed, her body trembling with sensation—it felt like an out-of-body experience. Sex with men had been good, even great at times, but this… this was something else. This was mind-blowing.

“Fuck, Lisa—don’t stop. I’m so close,” Carla gasped, her voice shaking with need.

“You feel so good,” Lisa growled against her ear. “Can you feel my fingers deep inside you? You’re so tight… so wet. You feel fucking amazing.”

Whatever nerves Lisa had mentioned before, Carla couldn’t see a trace of them now. The way she moved, the way she touched her—there was nothing hesitant about it. Lisa was in complete control, and every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through Carla’s body. She was incredible, and she felt even more incredible inside her.

Lisa’s fingers didn’t slow—they curled again, pressing perfectly into that spot deep inside her, her thumb never losing rhythm against Carla’s clit.

Carla’s breath caught. Her thighs tensed. “Lisa—oh my god—”

And then it hit.

Her release rushed through her in a wave so powerful it stole her voice. Her body arched, trembling as the pleasure rolled over her in pulses, sharp and overwhelming. She moaned Lisa’s name like a prayer, her fingers digging into flesh, her chest heaving as aftershocks rippled through her.

Lisa held her through it—steady, knowing—keeping her grounded even as Carla felt like she was unraveling, floating somewhere far beyond the room.

When she finally collapsed back onto the bed, limp and breathless, Lisa leaned down and kissed her gently on the temple.

“Told you,” she whispered with a grin. “You weren’t going to come just from my thigh.”

Carla couldn’t speak. Her mind was miles away—floating, spinning. She was seeing stars, and her body… she wasn’t even sure it was still connected to her head.

“Told you there was nothing to worry about,” she finally breathed out. “I hope that helped with your anxiety.”

Lisa chuckled softly. “Well… actually, I’m still feeling a little anxious,” she murmured, beginning to kiss her way slowly down Carla’s body.

“Lisa, wait—”

Lisa paused, glancing up from between Carla’s thighs. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted, the heat in her gaze unmistakable. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice tender but edged with desire.

Carla hesitated. “I just… isn’t that kind of… intimate? Maybe we should stick to what we just did. I’ve never come like that before. The men I’ve been with—it was all beard rash and too much teeth. It never felt… great. And I—”

Before she could finish, Lisa had crawled back up, hovering over her, eyes locked with hers.

“I think we’re well past worrying about boundaries,” she said softly, but firmly. “And if this is a one-time thing, then I’m definitely not leaving without tasting you.”

She kissed Carla gently, then added, “I won’t do anything you’re not okay with. But I think you could come that way too. You just haven’t had the right person down there. I am very talented with my tongue.”

Carla’s breath hitched.

“If it doesn’t work for you, or if you’re not into it, that’s totally fine,” Lisa continued. “Just say the word, and I’ll go back to fucking you with my fingers—again and again—because the way you sound, the way you feel… it’s addictive.”

Carla just nodded, speechless. She leaned her head back, barely able to process how her night had ended up here. Part of her had seen this coming the moment she’d propositioned Lisa—but the blonde had been so adamant. They couldn’t cross that line, she’d said. She appreciated the offer, but it wasn’t something they could do.

And now here she was—lying between Carla’s legs.

Seconds stretched into minutes, but Lisa still hadn’t touched her. She was resting there, head nestled against Carla’s thigh, her breath warm, steady.

“Everything okay?” Carla asked quietly.

Lisa glanced up, her smile slow and confident. “Just admiring the view,” she said. “Taking it all in before I dive right in.”

Carla instinctively tried to cross her legs, shy under Lisa’s gaze. But Lisa didn’t move—didn’t flinch.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Lisa said softly, her voice warm and reassuring. “Seeing you like this? It’s insanely sexy.”

“Really?” Carla asked, her eyes searching Lisa’s face for any trace of doubt.

“Yes, really,” Lisa replied, smiling as she gently ran her fingers through Carla’s folds. She brought her fingers to her lips, trailing her tongue along them before sucking them clean. “Mmm… you taste amazing.”

Carla let out a soft laugh. “Really? I mean… I’ve never actually tasted myself.”

“Not even after someone’s been down there?”

Carla shrugged. “Like I said… it’s not really something I enjoy. They’re usually down there for a couple of minutes, get no reaction, complain about a sore jaw, and then just stick it in to finish themselves off. It doesn't matter how long I was on my knees for them beforehand.”

Lisa’s expression softened, her touch more tender. “Well, we’re definitely going to change that.”

She leaned in without hesitation, her tongue gliding slowly through Carla’s folds, savouring her, letting Carla feel every deliberate movement. Then, with her lips still tingling, she slid up Carla’s body and pressed her mouth to Carla’s—kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on Lisa’s tongue. Lisa pulled back and looked down at Carla who was now licking her lips “So?”

“Not what I expected, but definitely not bad.”

“No, it’s definitely not bad,” Lisa replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to carry on tasting you.”

With that, she kissed her way back down Carla’s body.

Carla sank back against the pillow, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Lisa had just given her a mind-blowing orgasm with nothing but her fingers—and now, she was moving on to her tongue. Carla wasn’t sure what came after “mind-blowing,” but whatever it was, she had a feeling she was about to find out.

Lisa settled herself between Carla’s thighs with practiced ease, her hands spreading Carla open gently, reverently. She paused for a moment, watching her, exhaling a slow breath that sent a teasing wave of warm air across Carla’s already throbbing center. Carla shivered, her legs instinctively tensing, her anticipation thick in the air.

Then Lisa leaned in.

Her tongue made the first contact—soft, slow, deliberate. A long, unhurried stroke from bottom to top that had Carla gasping, her back arching slightly off the bed. Lisa licked again, firmer this time, exploring every fold, every reaction. Carla’s breath hitched with every flick of Lisa’s tongue, every wet, circling tease around her clit.

Carla had never experienced this—not like this. She’d expected to feel self-conscious, distracted. But Lisa’s mouth knew exactly what to do. It was like every nerve ending had been rewired for pleasure, and she could do nothing but give in.

“Oh my God… Lisa…” she moaned, her voice raw, unfiltered.

Lisa hummed softly in response, the vibration sending a pulse of pleasure through Carla’s entire body. Her moans grew louder, messier, her thighs beginning to tremble. Her hips moved on their own, chasing every flick and press of Lisa’s tongue. Then it hit—her orgasm, sudden and intense. She cried out, gripping the sheets, her whole body pulsing in waves of pleasure as Lisa gently coaxed her through it.

“Wow,” Carla moaned softly. “That was… something else.”

But Lisa didn’t stop.

Before Carla could fully catch her breath, she felt fingers sliding into her—deep, smooth, and perfectly timed. Lisa’s mouth never left her clit, the rhythm of tongue and fingers syncing in a way that felt almost unreal. Carla’s body was already hypersensitive, but the buildup began again—this time faster, hotter, more overwhelming.

The second orgasm came harder, deeper. Carla cried out, her voice breaking, her body convulsing around Lisa’s fingers as wave after wave tore through her. It wasn’t just an orgasm—it was something elemental, leaving her completely undone.

When it finally released her, Carla lay spent and dazed, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and tingling. Lisa looked up at her, lips glistening, eyes dark with heat—and something else. Affection. Mischief. Satisfaction.

“Still think it’s not your thing?” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Carla could only laugh breathlessly, her whole body still humming.

“You have nothing to be worried about, believe me,” Carla moaned, placing a hand over her eyes.

“Good to know,” Lisa chuckled.

They lay in silence for what felt like forever. Carla didn’t know what to do or say. There was no rule book for this—no clear signposts. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch Lisa, or if she even should. But the truth was, she wanted to.

She couldn’t stop thinking about touching Lisa, about feeling her come undone. The thought had rooted itself in her mind, impossible to shake. But would that be crossing a line? More than the one they’d already stepped over?

She couldn’t bring herself to ask. Couldn’t make a move. Rejection would crush her, and if Lisa said no, she’d carry that shame forever. So Carla decided it was best to leave it one-sided—for now. Lisa was the anxious one, the one who hadn’t touched another woman in four years, not since Becky died.

Carla had always been confident when it came to sex, but this felt different. The idea of touching Lisa—tasting her—was electric and terrifying all at once. That fear, she decided, was reason enough to keep her distance.

Her breathing had finally begun to steady when Lisa rolled onto her side and gently ran her fingers along Carla’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Carla asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Nothing,” Lisa murmured, teasing Carla’s nipple between her fingers. Carla moaned in response.

“Lisa,” she warned, breath catching.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m done,” Carla said firmly.

She’d heard the joke about when lesbians stop having sex—they don’t—but she’d never imagined it could be true. Still, something had been unleashed in Lisa tonight.

“Well,” Lisa said, her voice low and intent, “I was thinking… maybe you’d want to sit on my face.”

Carla let out a breath — part laugh, part protest. “Lisa… absolutely not.”

Lisa didn’t flinch. She raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Carla said, sitting up slightly, pulling the sheet higher over herself. “We already did more than we should’ve. Let’s not go all the way off the deep end.”

Lisa smirked. “You say that like it wasn’t good.”

“That’s not the point.”

Lisa leaned closer, her hand grazing Carla’s hip again, slow and deliberate. “Then what is? You’re overthinking it. We’re not playing house here, Carla. We’re just helping me get over my anxiety.”

Carla hesitated. Lisa’s confidence was new—unexpected—but it sent a thrum of heat straight through her.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already helped with your anxiety. I don’t see how this would make any difference—it’s something you’ve already done to me, just in a different position.”

Lisa’s voice dropped. “You want to, don’t pretend you don’t. And I’m telling you—” she looked Carla dead in the eyes—“it’ll be worth it.”

Carla’s breath hitched. She hated how much her body was already reacting.

“Come on,” Lisa murmured, lying back and tugging at the sheet between them. “Just one last thing—to help me get over my fanny fright.”

Carla shook her head, a crooked smile breaking across her lips despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”

Lisa just grinned. “And you’re stalling.”

Carla stared down at her for a moment, torn between irritation and arousal. Lisa looked smug—confident in a way that caught her off guard. And maybe she was right. Maybe Carla was overthinking it.

“Fine,” Carla muttered. “But if I do this, it’s for me. Not for you.”

Lisa grinned, lying back and folding her arms behind her head. “That’s the idea.”

Carla straddled her without ceremony, knees on either side of Lisa’s face, her thighs already trembling from anticipation. She hovered for a second, heart racing, until Lisa’s hands slid up to grip her hips with unexpected certainty.

“No backing out now,” Lisa said before pulling her down.

The first contact made Carla gasp—sharp and guttural. Lisa’s tongue was confident, thorough, no hesitation. Carla rocked forward instinctively, grinding against her mouth, the tension in her core already building fast.

“Fuck,” she breathed, one hand gripping the headboard, the other tangled in Lisa’s hair.

Lisa worked her with steady, ruthless pressure, tongue flicking and circling, pulling more and more from her with each pass. Carla’s thighs began to shake as the orgasm hit, sudden and overwhelming. She moaned loudly, riding through it, unable to stop herself from grinding harder against Lisa’s mouth.

But Lisa didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down.

Carla tried to pull away, breathless. “I—wait—”

Lisa just tightened her grip on Carla’s hips, holding her in place, mouth insistent.

Carla gave in. Again. Her next orgasm came quicker—deeper—her whole body tensing as she cried out, thighs clenching around Lisa’s face.

She finally collapsed forward, chest heaving, the aftershocks making her twitch. She lifted herself slightly and looked down.

Lisa was grinning up at her, mouth glistening, her chin wet with Carla’s release.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” she said, licking her lips slowly.

Carla rolled off her with a breathless laugh. “You’re such a fucking menace.”

Lisa stretched lazily beside her. “And you’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Lisa rolled over, reached her arm out, and was surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised—she had expected this. She’d expected Carla to wake up, instantly regret what had happened, and disappear before they had to face each other in the light of day. That was it. Their friendship was ruined.

The one good thing in Lisa’s life, besides Betsy, was gone—all because she’d agreed to Carla’s offer to help her out.

Sure, she felt less nervous about sex now. Almost confident, even—like she could walk into a bar, pick up a woman, take her home, and give her the night of her life. But at what cost?

Was losing Carla really worth it?

Seconds later, the bedroom door creaked open. Carla stepped in, carrying two mugs of coffee.

“Morning. Did you sleep okay? I know you struggle when you’re not at home,” Carla said, handing Lisa a mug before climbing onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard.

Okay… maybe she was wrong. Maybe Carla had meant what she said—that they could do this and go back to normal. Friends with benefits never worked, everyone said that, but this was different. This was one night, two friends, and maybe a bit too much wine. If they never spoke about it again, Lisa could live with that.

“I slept great,” Lisa said, smiling as she took a sip of her coffee. “Not sure if it was the wine, the bed, or the koala cuddled up next to me.”

Carla chuckled, her cheeks pink. “Sorry. I get needy after… well, you know.”

“It’s okay. It was a welcome surprise. I’m usually in bed alone. Closest I get to a cuddle these days is from Betsy—usually after I’ve transferred money into her account.”

Carla laughed. “What’s your plan for today?”

“Well, it’s Sunday, so big plans: a few loads of washing, changing the bedding, and enough ironing to open a dry cleaners. You?”

“Picking Michelle up from the airport. She’s staying for a couple of weeks. Ryan’s birthday is coming up, and—well—she may or may not have slept with her ex, who now thinks they’re getting back together, so she wants to get out of Dodge for a bit.”

Lisa’s brow lifted. “When was the last time she visited?”

She’d heard so much about Carla’s best friend, but had never met her. She hoped she’d get the chance, but deep down, she also worried. Michelle’s return might mean less time with Carla. And Lisa wasn’t sure she was ready for that—not after last night, and not after everything they’d shared over the last two years.

“She hasn’t been back since she moved,” Carla said, smiling. “I can’t wait for her to meet you. She did joke about you stealing her best friend, but I told her I can’t be stolen. I love you both equally.”

Lisa nudged her with her shoulder. “Good to know. I wouldn’t want to have to fight her for your attention.”

“No fighting necessary,” Carla grinned. “How about once you’re done with your mountain of ironing, you meet us at the Rovers? I can introduce my two best girls to each other, and we can hear all about Michelle’s latest drama.”

Lisa wanted to say yes. She really did. But when she opened her mouth, even she was surprised by what came out.

“I think I’ll give it a miss. I’ll probably have an early night—ironing is exhausting. And besides, you haven’t seen Michelle in ages. I wouldn’t want to gatecrash your first night together.”

She finished her coffee, pulled back the duvet, and swung her legs out of bed.

“Lisa… are we okay?” Carla asked quietly.

“Of course,” Lisa said with a practiced smile. “I just really need to get home. The ironing won’t do itself. I promise, everything’s fine.”

Lisa grabbed her clothes, ready to head into the bathroom to change, when Carla suddenly jumped out of bed, caught her arm, and gently pulled her back down.

“We’re not doing this,” Carla said firmly. “I know you, Lisa. I know you better than you know yourself. And I’m not going to let you just disappear. I’m sorry.”

Lisa blinked. “What are you sorry for?”

“Last night,” Carla said, her voice softening. “I thought we could just carry on like nothing happened, like it was no big deal. But maybe that was naive. I’m sorry if sleeping with me has made things weird, but please don’t shut me out. Talk to me. I’m here.”

“Carla, everything’s fine. I promise.” Lisa forced a small smile. “Last night actually helped me… so thank you. Really. And I appreciate you letting me get over my… fanny fright. God, it still gives me the ick saying that. But nothing’s changed between us—I swear. We agreed we’d go back to normal, and I’m happy to do that.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Things had changed—Lisa just didn’t know how yet, or whether it was for better or worse. And right now, she didn’t have the time or headspace to figure it out. She needed to get home. Betsy would be back soon, and she definitely didn’t want to explain to her 17-year-old where she’d spent the night—or who she’d been with.

“Are you sure?” Carla asked, searching her face.

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Carla said with a shrug. “I did my job—helped you get over your…”

“Don’t say it again,” Lisa cut in quickly.

“…problem,” Carla finished, smirking. “Look, everything’s good here. I’m happy to move on like nothing happened. It was good at the time—one friend helping another. Or, I guess, two friends helping each other. It was fun. But let’s just leave it there, yeah? Move on. And hopefully now you can go put your new lack of nerves to good use.”

“Well, if you’re good, then I’m good,” Lisa replied.

“Okay, so you’ll come to the Rovers then? To meet Michelle?”

“Carla, I probably shouldn’t. Betsy’s been out all weekend—I should really spend the evening with her. Maybe I could meet Michelle during the week? Take you both out for dinner at the Bistro—or better yet, grab a takeaway at yours. I want to hear everything about your friendship, and let’s be honest, some of it probably won’t be PG enough for a public setting,” Lisa chuckled.

“You’ve got that right. Okay, well, give me a call tonight and let me know how the ironing went.”

“Carla, you really don’t want to know how my ironing went,” Lisa replied with a laugh.

“No, but I do want to talk to you. We always have our Sunday evening phone call to chat about the weekend and the week ahead—it’s our thing. I’m not missing out on that just because Chelle’s here.”

Lisa laughed softly. “Carla, you know how my weekend went. You know exactly where I spent it.”

Carla’s voice turned low and amused. “Right… either between my legs or with your fingers inside me.”

Lisa let out a short breath, half a laugh. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

“Okay, we can discuss the week ahead instead,” Carla replied.

“Sounds like a plan. Right, I’d better get myself sorted and head home—the ironing won’t do itself. Say hi to Michelle from me, tell her I’m looking forward to meeting her, and enjoy your day together.”

Lisa slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped toward the front door, pausing as Carla followed her into the small hallway. Carla touched her arm lightly.

“You’re okay, yeah?” she asked, her tone soft, just a little uncertain. “We’re okay?”

 “Yeah, we’re okay. I’ll talk to you tonight, like always. Don’t worry.”

Carla searched her face for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. Drive safe.”

“I will,” Lisa promised, giving her hand a squeeze before walking down the stairs. She didn’t look back as she opened the front door, but she felt the weight of Carla’s gaze on her until she was out of sight.

Once she was behind the wheel and pulling away, Lisa flicked the radio on, letting the chatter fill the car, hoping it might distract her from the swirl of thoughts in her head. But it didn’t work. Every flick of her fingers on the steering wheel reminded her of Carla’s skin, the feel of her body arching beneath her, the heat of it all. It had been wild. Intense. Fun.

And maybe just a little bit too good.

She got home, dumped her bag inside the front door, and eyed the heap of laundry sitting next to the ironing board like it was personally attacking her. Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves and got started, letting the repetition settle her. Shirt. Steam. Fold. Trousers. Steam. Fold. Repeat. Boring, thank God.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced over.

Carla: How’s the ironing going? Can I tempt you to skip it and come for a drink at the Rovers? 

Lisa smirked, thumbs tapping fast.

Lisa: Absolutely not. I swear we’re only two people but somehow we’ve got the wardrobe of a small department store. There’s no escaping it.

Another buzz.

Carla: Fair enough. But I’m picturing you sweaty with an iron in hand now, so thanks for that.

Lisa shook her head with a smile and put the phone down. She returned to the pile, pressing and folding, but the quiet of the house crept back in. Her smile faded slightly.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy sleeping with Carla that much. She’d thought it would help her overcome her problem and that would be that. But the truth was, she had enjoyed it—more than she ever meant to. She still felt it in her muscles, a low hum under her skin. Still tasted Carla’s skin at the back of her throat. And the way Carla had looked at her afterward—Lisa couldn’t figure it out. There was something in the brunette’s eyes she hadn’t seen before, something quiet and intense. Carla looked at her differently now, and Lisa didn’t know what to do with that.

She wasn’t sure what any of it meant.

But ironing was safer than thinking too much.

Chapter Text

Carla stood just outside the arrivals gate, arms folded, sunglasses on despite the grey Manchester sky filtering in through the glass above. When she saw Michelle weaving her way through the crowd, dragging a suitcase behind her, she let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

“Look at you,” Carla said with a grin, stepping forward.

Michelle dropped her case and pulled her into a tight hug “it's good to see you, I've missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Now, come on—let’s get out of here and you can tell me all about the reason for this impromptu visit,” Carla chuckled.

She led the way up the stairs into the flat, casting a sidelong glance at Michelle. “Chelle, how could you think that was a good idea? His girlfriend sounds like a total psycho.”

Carla unlocked the door and dragged Michelle’s suitcase through to the living room. They both collapsed onto the sofa.

“I didn’t plan it, did I?” Michelle said with a sigh. “He told me he’d found some of my stuff at his place, so I went over there to get it. We ended up talking and… well, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were having sex on the kitchen counter.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “What are you, Shaggy?”

Michelle groaned. “Alright, Ryan already made that joke. But yeah—so we were mid-shag, and his girlfriend came home and caught us. She slashed my tyres, chucked a rock through the window of the restaurant, and spray-painted whore on the wall outside my flat. So yes, I needed to escape for a bit. And here I am.”

Carla let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell, Chelle. When you do drama, you don’t half go all in.”

Michelle dropped her head back against the sofa. “Tell me about it. I knew it was a bad idea the second I saw him, but I didn’t expect her to lose the plot like that.”

Carla narrowed her eyes. “You sure she didn’t follow you over here?”

Michelle scoffed. “No! I’m not that daft. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. Just grabbed my bag and came straight here. Like you told me to.”

Carla gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, well. Figured if anyone needed a break from the madness, it was you.”

“Thanks,” Michelle said, managing a tired smile. “I just needed some space. Clear my head. No flying rocks or screaming outside the flat.”

“You’ll get no screaming here—unless you count Tracy when she’s short a bottle of wine,” Carla said with a smirk.

Michelle laughed, then glanced at her. “So… what about you? What’s new in the world of Carla Connor? Any drama? Anything exciting I’ve missed?”

Carla froze for half a second before standing abruptly. “I’ll, er, stick the kettle on.”

Michelle narrowed her eyes, amused. “That was smooth.”

“What was?” Carla called from the kitchen.

“The way you just completely dodged my question,” Michelle replied, getting up and following her. “You went red, then bolted. That’s not nothing.”

Carla busied herself with the mugs, keeping her eyes on the kettle. “It’s warm in here.”

Michelle leaned against the counter, arms folded. “Carla. Come on. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Carla hesitated, then sighed. “It’s nothing, alright? Just… complicated.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Since when has that ever stopped you from talking? Come on, I’ve spilled my drama all over your sofa—least you can do is give me a headline.”

Carla looked at her, lips twitching with reluctant amusement. “You really want the headline?”

Michelle grinned. “Absolutely.”

Carla gave a low, slightly embarrassed laugh, eyes dropping to the worktop. “Alright then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

Michelle leaned in, eyebrows raised. “Now you’ve definitely got to tell me.”

Carla took a breath, then spoke quickly, like ripping off a plaster. “Me and Lisa… slept together. Or, well—she slept with me. I didn’t actually touch her.”

Michelle blinked. “Lisa as in… your replacement me?”

Carla gave her a look. “How many Lisas do I talk about?”

“Fair point. I’m so confused—what do you mean you slept together? How did that even happen?” Michelle paused, then added with a chuckle, “You know what, I don’t think this is a tea conversation. We need wine. Big glasses.”

Without a word, Carla grabbed a bottle from the side and poured them both large glasses before settling into the armchair opposite. She handed Michelle hers and took a long sip from her own before speaking again.

“Right, well… you know Lisa’s wife, Becky, died three years ago. And when I met her, it was just after the anniversary. You know what that first year’s like. It wrecks you. We started talking, and weirdly, we hit it off. I mean, I always thought she was just that pain-in-the-arse police officer, but she wasn’t like that at all. We helped each other through a lot—me being lonely after Peter buggered off, her dealing with her daughter, Betsy. I actually helped them fix things.”

Michelle nodded, following carefully. “And then you two got close?”

Carla shrugged. “Yeah. Over the last couple of years we’ve spent loads of time together. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even flirty. Just… comfortable. Last night we got a bit tipsy, started talking about sex, and she said she didn’t think she could ever do it again. Too scared. Said it’d been three years, and she just… couldn’t.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “And that’s when wine-drunk Carla made her grand entrance?”

Carla gave a small, dry laugh. “Exactly. I said if she wanted to try it with someone she trusted, without pressure or expectations, well… I was there. She called it a stupid idea, teased me to see if I’d back out. I didn’t.”

Michelle leaned forward. “So what, you just went for it?”

“Not straight away,” Carla said. “We went to bed in separate rooms—oh, by the way, I’m gonna need to change the bedding in your room—”

Michelle choked on her wine. “What?!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carla waved a hand. “Anyway, I couldn’t sleep. So I asked if she was sure she didn’t want to. And she changed her mind. And then… she absolutely went for it.”

Michelle blinked. “As in?”

“As in, she fucked me until I couldn’t take any more,” Carla said bluntly. “And I mean really. And you know I’ve never liked people going down on me.”

Michelle nodded slowly. “You’ve always said it makes you tense. No one’s ever done it right.”

“Well,” Carla said, draining her glass, “Lisa had no trouble in that department.”

Michelle’s jaw dropped slightly as Carla stood and poured herself another glass.

“You’re telling me she—”

“Multiple times,” Carla said flatly. “No fuss. No awkwardness. No pressure. Just… her. And it worked.”

Michelle just stared at her for a moment, blinking. “Bloody hell, Carla.”

Carla gave a small laugh, almost shy. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

“So… what now?” Michelle asked, eyeing Carla over the rim of her wine glass.

“What do you mean?” Carla replied, casually.

“Well, what does this mean for you two?”

“Oh, that? Nothing. We agreed it was a one-time thing. That’s all it was ever meant to be.” Carla leaned back in her chair. “I helped her out, that’s all. One mate helping another. No feelings involved. I love her, yeah—but the same way I love you.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “We’ve never had sex, Carla.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Carla said with a wave of her hand. “We grew up together. Plus, if I was ever gonna be with a woman, I don’t think a brunette would be my type. I’ve always been more of a blonde girl, if anything.”

Michelle snorted. “Right. Good to know.”

Carla smirked. “No, seriously. Lisa and I are mates. That’s it. She doesn’t look at me like that, and I don’t look at her like that. Which is why it worked. No drama, no awkward feelings, just… no-strings sex to help her get her confidence back. Now she can go off, sow her wild oats, get back out there—make up for the last three years.”

Michelle gave her a look. “You make it sound like you handed her a confidence booster with a bow on it.”

Carla shrugged, refilling her glass again. “Well… didn’t I?”

“So when do I get to meet her?” Michelle asked.

“Sometime this week,” Carla replied. “She’s busy ironing today, so she can’t come to the Rovers with us. But she said she’ll treat us to a takeaway later in the week and come meet you then. You’ll love her, Chelle—she’s so much like you.”

“Nothing’s changed, you say?”

“Yes.”

“She’d rather iron on a Sunday than come to the Rovers for a drink with her best friend?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Carla said. “She hasn’t seen Betsy all weekend, so they’re spending the evening together. We talked before and after—everything’s fine. Honestly, Chelle, it’s not that deep.”

“So if she went off to sow her wild oats, you wouldn’t care? Not even a sliver of jealousy?”

“Of course not. I’d throw a party if she actually went and did it.”

“Okay… and how would it feel if she wanted to tell you all about her conquests?”

“I’d sit and listen—just like I do with you,” Carla replied.

“I’d throw a party if she actually went and did it.”

That’s what Carla said. Easy enough to deliver, laced with the usual sarcasm. But as soon as the words landed, something inside her shifted—quiet, almost imperceptible, but there.

Michelle didn’t notice. She was already up, rooting through her bag like she hadn’t just cracked something open.

Carla stayed where she was, her smile fading as she stared at the floor.

Would I really? Would I honestly celebrate the idea of Lisa with someone else? Some new woman who gets to wake up to her bad jokes and watch her eat cereal straight from the box? Who learns all the small things about her—the way she sings when she’s drunk or how she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s thinking?

The thought landed like a dull thud.

No. I wouldn’t throw a party. I’d miss her. I’d miss… us.

Not in a romantic way, she told herself quickly. That wasn’t it. Lisa was her best friend—had been for two years. They just fit. There was comfort in it. Safety. That rare ease you don’t find often as an adult. Carla didn’t want to mess with that. She didn’t want to want anything more.

But if she sleeps with someone… and then it turns into something real, someone serious…

She’d be left on the outside. Things would change. The late-night calls, the stupid memes, the lazy Sundays—they’d fade. Not out of malice, but out of life shifting the way it always does when someone new comes in. And that idea—that slow unraveling of what they had—stung more than she’d expected.

That’s all it is, she told herself. I just don’t want to lose her. That’s it. Nothing deeper. If it were, I’d know… wouldn’t I?

A pause.

Then—

“Carla!” Michelle’s voice rang out again. “Get up and change the bedding—we’re going to the Rovers!”

Carla stood slowly, brushing off her jeans, tucking the feeling back into the corner where she kept all the others she didn’t know what to do with.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” she called.

Friendship. That’s what it was.

And if she kept telling herself that, maybe it’d stay true.

Chapter Text

It had been over a week since Lisa had seen Carla. She told herself—and Carla—that work had kept her busy, tied up in a new case. But the truth was, she hadn’t convinced either of them. She hadn’t wanted that one night with Carla to come between them, but it had consumed her. Every second of every day, her mind drifted back to the way Carla had felt under her hands, the way she tasted, the sounds she made when she came—and, more than anything, the warmth of the cuddle they shared afterwards.

Lisa was a lesbian. Carla was straight. A tourist, if you will. Lisa knew Carla hadn’t done it for the thrill; she had done it to help Lisa out. To be a friend. Carla had insisted it wouldn’t change anything—and of course it wouldn’t. Not for her. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t changed everything for Lisa.

Betsy was out for the night—some concert, followed by a hotel stay—so Lisa had the house to herself. She’d planned to make the most of it. After a long, luxurious bath and a glass of wine, she curled up in bed with a book. It was just after 8:00 p.m. when a knock sounded at the door.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop. It was persistent. Insistent. After five solid minutes of it, her phone vibrated.

Carla: I know you’re home. I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me.

Lisa threw off the duvet, grabbed a T-shirt from the drawer, pulled on a pair of shorts, and hurried downstairs. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Carla standing there in a brown trench coat—one Lisa had never seen before and wouldn’t have pictured Carla owning.

Before Lisa could say a word, Carla brushed past her into the living room.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Carla said simply.

“I’ve been busy. Work’s been hectic. I haven’t been intentionally avoiding you.”

“Don’t blame work,” Carla shot back. “Michelle thinks I made you up—she was excited to meet you, but you’ve been nowhere to be seen. And we both know why. But I think…” She paused, eyes locked with Lisa’s. “I think I have a solution to that problem.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but the words never came. Carla let the trench coat fall to the floor—and she was completely naked underneath. Lisa’s eyes drank her in, lingering on the black stockings hugging her thighs, the high heels, the absence of underwear.

Her breath hitched. Heat flared low in her belly.

“Carla, what are you doing?” she whispered. “We said it was a one-time thing.”

Carla stepped closer, closing the space between them. She reached out and gently nudged Lisa backwards until her legs hit the sofa. One soft push on her chest, and Lisa sank down into the cushions as Carla straddled her lap, eyes fixed on hers, breath warm against her face.

Lisa’s hands hovered, uncertain—aching to touch, terrified to make it real.

“Carla…” she murmured again, this time softer. There was no conviction in her voice. Just longing.

Carla leaned in, brushing her lips lightly over Lisa’s. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” she whispered. “I tried. I told myself it was just a night, just a moment. But it wasn’t. Not for me.”

Lisa stared up at her, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought. “You said it didn’t change anything.”

“It won’t—if we don’t let it. But you were selfish the other night.”

“How?” Lisa asked.

“You didn’t let me touch you, and I don’t think that’s very fair.”

“It’s not that I didn’t let you… I just didn’t think you’d want to. You’re straight—have you forgotten that?”

“I might be straight, but that doesn’t explain why all I’ve thought about this past week is touching you, making you come, tasting you. I think it’s only fair we even the score… and I get to make you come as many times as you made me.”

Lisa wasn’t sure if this was real. Since that night, she’d fantasised about Carla touching her—but she’d always thought that’s all it would ever be: a fantasy. Carla was straight. Or at least, she used to be. But now, here she was—sober, straddling Lisa’s lap, and openly admitting she wanted to fuck her. Actually saying she wanted to touch her.

Lisa should say no. One night had already made things weird—could they really go through with it again? Could she really let Carla touch her?

The truth was, no one had touched her like that since Becky. And maybe, in some twisted way, this was the lesser of two evils. Letting Carla be the first felt… safer. If she panicked, Carla would understand. She’d be there as a friend. Another woman might not be so kind.

“Carla, is this really a good idea? I mean… we’re sober. There’s no blaming this on alcohol. Are you sure about this?”

Carla looked at her steadily, voice low but unwavering.

“Lisa, I’m sitting on your lap—naked. I drove to your house wearing nothing but a trench coat and heels to seduce you. I’ve thought about this… a lot. And honestly, I think it’s exactly what we need.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but Carla pressed on.

“You can pretend you’re not avoiding me, but we both know you are. And I don’t know why, because I thought we were okay. The only explanation I can think of is… you’ve been thinking about me in a way that’s more than friendly. You’ve imagined what it would be like to touch me again—to have me touch you—and now you feel guilty about it.”

Carla’s gaze softened, but her words stayed firm.

“You’re scared of ruining the friendship. I get it. But I don’t think this would ruin us. I think it could make us better.”

She stood then, slow and deliberate, gathering her coat loosely around her.

“I don’t want to talk this to death right now. So I’m going upstairs—to your bedroom—and I’m going to wait. What happens next… that’s your call.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving Lisa breathless, heart racing, and completely alone with the choice.

Lisa sat frozen, listening to the soft sound of Carla’s footsteps fading up the stairs and into the bedroom.

She’d be foolish to turn her down. Honestly, she hadn’t even thought about Carla that way—not really—until the other night. But now? It was all she could think about.

And Carla wanted her too. That much was crystal clear.

She told herself she should be thinking with her head, but right now? Her body had other plans. The image of Carla—standing there in nothing but stockings and heels—was seared into her mind, and it had her aching.

The idea of walking away from this, from her, felt impossible.

Letting Carla take care of it, of her, suddenly didn’t just seem tempting.

It felt inevitable.

She shouldn’t feel this nervous—if anything, Carla should be the one feeling nervous. This was her first time touching a woman, after all. Receiving was one thing, but giving? That was entirely different. Still, if Lisa didn’t go upstairs right now, she felt like she might combust just from the thought of Carla’s hands on her.

She rushed up the stairs at an embarrassingly fast pace, all rational thought abandoned the moment she remembered that Carla was lying naked on her bed.

She pushed open the door to find Carla reclining against the headboard, legs elegantly crossed, still wearing her heels and stockings.

“Took you longer than I expected,” Carla breathed. “Now get over here.”

Lisa walked to the bed and sat on the edge, her heart pounding. Carla was behind her in seconds, kissing and gently nipping at her neck.

“Before we do this,” Lisa said, voice trembling slightly, “can we talk—just real quick? Because I really need you to touch me, so I don’t want to talk too much. But I need to say this: this is the first time I’ve been touched by someone else since Becky died. And if I end up being a one-and-done, please don’t take it personally. I’d like to last longer than two minutes. I mean, I’m not a man, but still—if I don’t, I apologise in advance. Also, if I change my mind at any point, please know it’s not you. God, it’s definitely not you—it’s me, and my head.”

Carla pulled back, climbed off the bed and stood in front of Lisa“If you don’t want this to happen, and you want me to go, I will. It won’t change anything between us.”

“Want you to go?” Lisa gave a breathless laugh. “Carla, I’d be a complete idiot to let you leave without touching me. I just… wanted all my cards on the table. So you’d know what to expect.”

Lisa placed her hands on Carla’s hips, leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss to her stomach. Just as she was about to place another, Carla gently pushed her back onto the mattress.

“Uh-uh, no,” Carla said with a smirk. “This is about you right now. I mean, if you still want to touch me after I’m done with you, who am I to say no? But for now, Mrs, this is about me making you feel good. Or at least trying to. It’s not like I’m exactly experienced at this.”

“Three years, Carla. Three years since anyone’s touched me,” Lisa said, her voice low but trembling with honesty. “I have no doubt you’ll make me feel good—amazing, even.”

“First things first. Strip,” Carla commanded.

Lisa didn’t hesitate—not because she wasn’t nervous, but because if she paused for even a second to think about Carla standing there, watching her undress, she’d freeze. Panic would set in. She knew this was what she wanted… but it was still overwhelming.

Her top was the first to go, flying across the room. She reached for the waistband of her shorts—but then felt Carla’s hands gently close over hers.

“On second thought…” Carla murmured.

That was all it took.

Lisa leaned back like she’d been burned, scrambled off the bed, and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She slid down against it, heart pounding. Carla had seen her topless—and changed her mind. She must have been disgusted. Of course she was.

That was it. Over. There was no coming back from this. Their friendship—whatever it had been—was done. Lisa couldn’t imagine ever looking Carla in the eye again.

There was a knock at the door, followed by Carla’s voice—soft, but firm.

“Lisa, come out. You didn’t give me a chance to say what I meant. When I said ‘on second thought,’ I didn’t change my mind—I just meant I wanted to take your shorts off.”

A beat. Then her voice dropped, husky, almost pleading.

“Now open this door, because all I want to do right now is put your nipples in my mouth.”

“I can’t,” Lisa whispered through the door. “I feel stupid. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions, but… maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe it’s better if we leave it at just that once. It’s probably safer.”

“No,” Carla said, immediately. “You’re not doing this. You’re not pushing me away.”

Her voice cracked slightly, intense with longing.

“I’m aching to touch you, Lisa. I’ve never wanted to touch anyone the way I want to touch you. Yeah, I sound needy—but that’s because I am. I haven’t stopped thinking about you lying on your back, me pushing my fingers deep inside you, feeling you tighten around them while you moan my name.”

She took a breath, like steadying herself.

“You have no idea how many nights this week I’ve dreamed of that—of you. So come out. Let me turn that dream into reality. Then we can talk, figure out what this all means. But right now… all I want is to fuck you.”

That was it.

Those last two words hit Lisa like a bolt of electricity. Her doubt, her shame, her fear—gone. Replaced by heat. Confidence. Craving.

She stood, hands trembling slightly, and pulled the door open.

Carla was there, arm outstretched, hand waiting.

“Now,” she said with a smirk, “should we try this again?”

Lisa just nodded, and before she could say a word, Carla stepped forward, placing her hands firmly on either side of Lisa’s waist. In one smooth motion, she lifted her up. Instinctively, Lisa wrapped her legs around Carla’s hips, their bodies pressed close.

Carla turned, carrying her across the room with ease, her mouth brushing close to Lisa’s ear.

“Now… where was I?” she murmured, walking them toward the bed.

Carla dropped Lisa gently onto the bed and stepped back, eyes roaming over her. Lisa instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, a flicker of self-consciousness rising—until she caught the look in Carla’s eyes. That dark, hungry gaze. Carla’s breath hitched, and she licked her lips, clearly caught in the moment.

Lisa thought she was about to lean in—until Carla let out an exasperated huff and plopped down on the edge of the bed.

“I was trying to be all sexy and sensual,” she muttered, tugging at her shoes, “but these bastard heels are killing me.”

She kicked them off with a dramatic sigh, and Lisa couldn’t help but laugh—nerves easing, desire still very much alive.

“You’re very much sexy without them,” Lisa admitted, her voice soft but sure.

“Oh, is that so—Miss ‘I don’t even find you attractive’?” Carla teased, raising an eyebrow.

Lisa smirked. “That was before I saw you without your clothes on… before I touched you, tasted you, and heard you come.”

“Oh, is that right? So fully dressed I’m unattractive, but naked I’m sexy?” Carla challenged, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips.

Lisa rolled her eyes, smiling. “No, what I’m saying is—I was being respectful. You were my friend. And not fancying my friends is kind of a rule I try to stick to. I didn’t want to make things weird. So yeah, you were beautiful, smart, funny, kind… and a sarcastic bitch—which are all things I admired as your friend. As someone who’d never seen you naked.”

She leaned in, eyes locked with Carla’s.

“But now that I have seen you naked? I can speak with confidence. You are, in fact, sexy as hell.”

“Hmm,” Carla said, pretending to think. “Okay… I’ll let you off.”

Lisa grinned, eyes gleaming. “I hope you’re planning to get me off, too.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to try,” Carla murmured, her voice low and thick with desire as she stood. “Now… climb up the bed.”

Lisa did as she was told, settling herself in the middle of the bed. Her heart pounded, nerves buzzing under the surface—but beneath it all was pure, aching desire. She was already embarrassingly wet, and Carla hadn’t even touched her yet. She could feel the warmth, the slickness between her thighs, and a flicker of doubt crept in.

God, I hope that’s not a turn-off, she thought.

Before Lisa even realised what was happening, Carla was on the bed, straddling her stomach. The heat of her body pressed down, and Lisa could feel Carla’s arousal slick against her skin, warm and undeniable.

“I’m not even going to apologise,” Carla whispered, her voice breathless. “I probably would… but seeing you like this—knowing I get to touch you—it’s driving me wild.”

Then she leaned down and captured Lisa’s lips with her own, the kiss slow at first, then deepening as her tongue slipped into Lisa’s mouth. Their tongues tangled, a battle for control neither truly wanted to win. Lisa slid her hands up Carla’s back, fingers threading into her hair as she pulled her in closer.

A moan escaped—neither of them knew who it belonged to.

And neither of them cared.

Carla pulled back first, breathless. Lisa looked up at her—her lips were swollen, her hair tousled and falling to one side, eyes dark with lust and a devilish smile tugging at her mouth. She leaned in to press one last, gentle kiss to Lisa’s lips before trailing her mouth along Lisa’s jaw, down the curve of her neck, and across to her collarbone.

Carla slowly licked, kissed, and nibbled her way down to Lisa’s chest, taking her time. Lisa looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, her breath catching.

“Just a warning,” she murmured, “my nipples are very sensitive.”

Carla’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Hmm… is that so?”

She leaned in and took Lisa’s left nipple into her mouth, flicking her tongue over the peak with teasing precision. At the same time, her hand slid up to cup Lisa’s other breast, fingers skillfully squeezing and rolling the right nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

Carla gave Lisa’s breasts her full attention, switching between them with slow, deliberate care. Her mouth moved from one nipple to the other—licking, sucking, teasing with just the lightest scrape of her teeth. Her hand followed where her lips left off, caressing, squeezing, and rolling the sensitive peaks between her fingers.

Lisa writhed beneath her, breathless and flushed, soft moans slipping past her lips as she arched into Carla’s touch.

Carla paused just long enough to smirk, eyes fixed on Lisa’s chest, clearly impressed.

“Okay,” she murmured, almost to herself. “If I were a lesbian… I’d definitely be a boob woman.”

She leaned in again, licking a slow circle around Lisa’s nipple before flicking it lightly with her tongue.

“Actually… maybe I am a boob woman,” she added with a wicked grin. “Because I could seriously do this all day.”

Lisa laughed breathily, her hands still tangled in Carla’s hair, her body trembling with anticipation. “No complaints here.”

“As much as I’m enjoying myself,” Carla said, her voice low and teasing as she began to kiss her way down Lisa’s body, “there’s actually somewhere else I’d much rather spend my time.”

Lisa swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

Carla paused and looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “Are you serious right now? How am I supposed to even the score if you don’t let me down there?”

“I just meant…” Lisa hesitated, her voice softer. “You don’t have to dive right in if you need a minute. To, you know… build up to it.”

Carla smirked. “Is this you worrying about me—or worried about how long you’ll last the second I put my mouth on you?”

Lisa groaned, covering her face with one hand. “God, I hate how well you know me.”

Carla chuckled, kissing just above Lisa’s hip. “I love how well I know you.”

Carla placed her hands on either side of Lisa’s shorts and began to pull them down—agonisingly slow. Lisa fought the urge to cross her legs, suddenly self-conscious about just how wet she was. She felt like a teenager again, overwhelmed and insecure. But she forced herself to push past it. Suck it up, she told herself. Carla isn’t showing a hint of hesitation—and it’s her first time going down on a woman.

Once her shorts were off, Lisa kicked them aside, her breath catching as Carla gently pushed her thighs apart and nestled between them.

Carla began to pepper soft kisses along the insides of Lisa’s thighs, unhurried and purposeful. Lisa’s legs twitched with every touch, her body reacting instinctively. She could feel herself growing impossibly wetter, the anticipation winding tighter inside her. She didn’t know if it was the long stretch without sex or the way Carla seemed naturally gifted at driving her wild—but either way, she couldn’t remember ever being this turned on.

Carla’s mouth was getting closer—achingly close—to where Lisa craved her most, but she never quite touched her, always just skimming around the edges, kissing everywhere but there. Then, she paused, looked up from between Lisa’s thighs, and smirked.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Come on, be a good girl and say it. I want to hear you.”

Be a good girl.

Holy fuck.

Lisa had never thought of herself as someone with a praise kink, but the way those words rolled off Carla’s tongue… she could’ve come from that alone.

“Carla, please,” she gasped. “Stop teasing me and fuck me with your tongue. I’m absolutely soaked, and all I can think about is your mouth on me.”

“As you wish,” Carla murmured.

She leaned in and ran her tongue slowly from Lisa’s entrance all the way up to her clit, making sure to savour every drop, lapping up Lisa’s wetness with growing confidence. For someone who had never done this before, Carla was very good at it.

Lisa’s fingers tangled in Carla’s hair, curling around the strands as she tried to keep still. Her hips itched to move, to grind against Carla’s mouth, but she held back. She didn’t want to overwhelm her—at least, not yet.

Carla pulled back just slightly, lips slick, eyes gleaming. “Okay, why have I waited until I was fifty to try this?” she said breathlessly. “Lisa, you taste amazing. Like sweet and salty—my two favorite combinations.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, maybe to joke, maybe to moan—but before she could get a word out, Carla was back on her, flicking and sucking her clit with focused, delicious pressure.

“Oh my fuck,” Lisa gasped. “Carla—please, don’t stop. Right there.”

“That’s it,” Carla growled softly. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

They both paused for half a second.

Baby.

Neither of them said a word about it—but neither pulled away, either. The moment passed in a quiet, unspoken agreement. Lisa pushed Carla’s head gently back down, and Carla didn’t hesitate—she buried her face between Lisa’s thighs, sliding her tongue as deep inside her as she could go.

Carla moved with purpose now, her tongue plunging deep, slow and rhythmic, then retreating to circle and flick Lisa’s clit with practiced curiosity, as though learning her by taste and sound. Lisa’s hips started to move on their own, rocking gently, unable to hold back any longer.

Her fingers tightened in Carla’s hair, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged pulls. Every nerve ending was lit up. The pressure was coiling fast, winding tighter with every wet flick of Carla’s tongue, every soft moan that vibrated against her.

“Carla—” Lisa choked out, her voice breaking on a whimper. “I’m—God, I’m so close.”

Carla didn’t stop. She responded with a low, hungry sound, one hand sliding up to gently press down on Lisa’s stomach, grounding her, holding her there, letting her know she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Come for me,” she murmured against Lisa’s clit. “Be a good girl and let go.”

That was it.

Lisa shattered.

Her back arched off the bed as pleasure surged through her in waves, blinding and hot and overwhelming. She cried out Carla’s name, her thighs trembling around her lover’s head, every muscle taut and pulsing with release.

Carla held her through it—slowly easing her down, licking her softly, tenderly now, until Lisa was twitching from the oversensitivity, gasping and breathless.

Finally, Carla looked up, lips glistening, a proud, wicked glint in her eyes. “Well,” she said with a smirk, “I think I might be a natural.”

Lisa could only laugh, breathless, flushed, and utterly undone.

They lay side by side now, tangled in sheets and soft, steady breaths, facing each other. Carla rested on her elbow, watching Lisa with a satisfied, almost smug smile, while Lisa stared up at the ceiling, still trying to remember how to breathe like a normal human being.

Lisa turned her head to look at her, cheeks flushed, hair a beautiful mess across the pillow.

“So…” she said, voice husky, “not to be that girl, but… you did say something about making me come as many times as I made you.”

Carla raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you keeping score now?”

Lisa grinned. “I’m just holding you to your promise. You said you wanted to even the score.”

“Cheeky little thing,” Carla muttered with a laugh, reaching over to tickle Lisa’s side. Lisa squealed, writhing beneath the sheets as she giggled, trying to bat her hand away.

“Hey!” Lisa yelped, half-laughing, half-trying to wriggle away. “Unfair—my body’s still recovering!”

“Good,” Carla smirked. “I like you squirming.”

Then her hand slowed, the teasing fading into something more deliberate. Her fingers drifted lower, trailing down Lisa’s stomach and slipping between her thighs.

Lisa gasped, hips twitching.

Carla’s fingers slid through her slick folds, slow and gentle, as though reacquainting herself with the sensation. Her touch was soft, exploratory—but filled with intention.

“Still soaked,” she murmured, gaze darkening as she watched Lisa’s reaction. “You know… if I’m going to keep my word, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Lisa shivered under her touch. “Bring it on.”

Carla leaned in, lips brushing against hers, whispering against her mouth.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping until we’re even.”

Carla didn’t waste any more time.

She kissed Lisa softly, then deeper, her fingers never leaving their place between Lisa’s thighs. She moved with a growing rhythm—slow at first, just enough to make Lisa sigh into her mouth. Then her fingers found just the right spot, circling her clit with purpose, building pressure again.

Lisa’s legs shifted open wider, her hips moving instinctively against Carla’s hand.

“You’re already close again, aren’t you?” Carla whispered, her voice low and wicked in Lisa’s ear. “God, I love how responsive you are.”

Lisa let out a breathy moan, barely able to form words. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

Carla didn’t. She slid two fingers inside, curling just right, while her thumb kept perfect pressure on Lisa’s clit. It was a rhythm Lisa couldn’t fight—didn’t want to fight. She arched, gasped, body pulsing as the second orgasm rolled through her like fire under her skin.

She cried out Carla’s name, her body trembling all over again, and Carla kissed her through it, hand slowing only slightly as Lisa came down.

Carla slowly withdrew her fingers and slipped them into her mouth, licking them clean. Then she leaned over to Lisa and whispered, “You know, there’s one thing I’ve always been jealous of when it came to you. I mean, as a friend—something I admired, but also envied.”

Lisa, still catching her breath, murmured, “What’s that?”

“Your arse,” Carla said with a soft laugh. “It’s incredible. I used to think I was just jealous… but maybe it wasn’t jealousy. Maybe I just found it sexy and didn’t want to admit it.”

“Okay… what about it?” Lisa asked.

Carla traced her fingers lightly over Lisa’s stomach, pausing to flick the little silver belly piercing. “Get on all fours,” she murmured. “I want to fuck you from behind—get the best view of that perfect arse.”

Did those words really just come out of Carla’s mouth? Lisa crossed her legs, trying to ease the pressure building between them—because hearing Carla say that was so fucking hot.

Lisa didn’t say a word—she just shifted her weight and slowly climbed onto all fours, her back arching instinctively, presenting herself without hesitation. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with something electric.

Carla moved in behind her, eyes trailing down Lisa’s back before settling on the curve of her hips. She let out a low breath, almost a growl, and ran her hands over Lisa’s waist, then down to her thighs, squeezing gently.

“God,” she whispered, her voice rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the small of Lisa’s back, then another, slower one just above the curve of her ass. Her hands explored, reverent and hungry all at once, as she positioned herself closer.

“You ready for me?” Carla asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with intent.

Lisa just nodded, unable to form words. She hadn’t really thought about what sex with Carla would be like—hadn’t let her mind go there, not seriously, not until they actually crossed that line. But now, caught in the heat of it, she realised she never could have predicted this. Carla was always so confident in everyday life—collected, in control. Lisa should’ve expected nothing less in the bedroom, but this was something else entirely. Carla was feral—the way she touched, took, and wanted Lisa was raw and unapologetic. There was nothing shy or hesitant about her. She devoured Lisa with her hands, her mouth, her words. And it was insane—how badly she wanted her, and how good it felt to finally be wanted like that.

Carla positioned herself behind Lisa, her hands spreading over those perfect hips she couldn’t stop thinking about. She took a moment to just stare, completely captivated.

“God, your arse,” she groaned, running her palms over it, squeezing. “I swear, I’ve dreamed about this. It’s insane how much I’ve wanted you—this.”

Lisa moaned softly, pushing back slightly, inviting more. Carla didn’t make her wait.

Her fingers slid between Lisa’s thighs, finding her slick and ready. She teased for a moment—just enough to make Lisa shiver—before easing two fingers inside her, slow but firm.

Lisa gasped, her body tightening around the sudden pressure.

“Fuck,” Carla breathed, her voice trembling with desire. “You feel so good… squeezing me like that. You’re perfect—your body, this arse—everything.”

She began moving her fingers, curling them with purpose, hitting just the right spot. Each motion was matched with Carla’s praises, her voice ragged.

“You have no idea how hot this is for me… watching you like this, taking me, clenching around my fingers like you don’t want me to ever stop.”

Lisa’s breathing grew louder, her arms trembling slightly as the pleasure built. Carla leaned over her, lips brushing Lisa’s shoulder, her other hand still gripping that perfect curve as if she couldn’t bear to let go.

“Fuck, Carla… no—don’t ever stop.”

Carla’s fingers moved with more urgency now, each thrust drawing a soft, helpless sound from Lisa’s lips. She was soaked, warm, and gripping Carla so tightly it nearly drove her mad.

“Shit, Lisa…” Carla murmured, leaning over, her voice hot against Lisa’s ear. “I never thought I’d be like this—with a woman. I didn’t think it would ever feel this good.”

She curled her fingers just right, making Lisa cry out, her back arching beautifully.

“But you?” Carla went on, breathless and raw. “You’ve ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about you. Your body, your skin, your fucking arse—God, this arse.” Her hand came down hard with a firm smack, then smoothed over the spot, soothing the sting. “It’s perfect. And watching it move while I’m inside you? I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

Lisa whimpered, pushing back against Carla’s hand, grinding into her fingers. The slick sounds between them were getting louder, the air filled with moans and the soft creak of the bed.

“I love the way you squeeze around me,” Carla said, voice ragged. “Like your body wants me. Like you were made for this. For me.”

Lisa’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling as Carla’s pace quickened, her fingers thrusting deeper, firmer, working her expertly.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” Carla whispered. “On my fingers, like a good girl. I want to feel you fall apart. I want to see that beautiful arse shaking while you lose it.”

Carla shifted slightly behind her, eyes locked on the way Lisa’s body trembled. She slid one hand from Lisa’s hip, down between her thighs, her fingers slick and sure as they found Lisa’s clit.

Lisa gasped—sharp, desperate—her arms nearly giving out as Carla began to circle her gently, then with growing pressure.

“Yeah,” Carla breathed, her voice thick with lust. “That’s it… I want to feel you come all over my hand. You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?”

Lisa could only nod again, moaning as her hips began to roll with the rhythm Carla set. The pressure built fast—too fast—and then it hit her like a wave crashing down. Her body tightened, clamped around Carla’s fingers, her moan tearing through the air as she came hard, shaking with the force of it.

But Carla didn’t stop.

Before Lisa could catch her breath, Carla’s fingers started moving again—deliberate, relentless, her thumb still rubbing soft, devastating circles over Lisa’s clit.

“Don’t run from it,” Carla growled, her voice low and dark against Lisa’s ear. “Give me another. I want to watch you come for me. Again.”

Lisa whimpered, overwhelmed, but her body was already building toward it—raw and overstimulated, but somehow needing more. And then it hit her again—another sharp, shuddering climax that left her trembling so hard she nearly collapsed on the spot.

Carla finally eased her hand away, guiding Lisa gently down onto the bed. Lisa collapsed onto her stomach, breathless, her body still twitching from aftershocks. She let out a dazed laugh, her cheek pressed against the sheets.

“Jesus, Carla… I really didn’t have you pegged as a top.”

Carla chuckled, still catching her breath as she lay down beside her. “Honestly? I didn’t know I had it in me either.”

She brushed a strand of hair from Lisa’s face, her fingers suddenly soft, almost reverent.

“There’s just… something about you,” she murmured. “You bring it out of me.”

Before Lisa could even fully catch her breath, she looked over at Carla—eyes glassy, lips parted—and whispered, “Can we… can we come together?”

Carla froze for half a second, something soft flickering in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reverently. “Yes. We can.”

She leaned in and kissed her, deeper this time, then guided Lisa’s hand down between her thighs. They moved together, breath syncing, touch syncing—Lisa’s fingers finding Carla just as wet, just as ready.

Moans filled the space between them, hands working in tandem, mouths brushing but barely kissing, too breathless to focus on anything but each other.

And when it hit—when both of them tipped over at the same time, gasping each other’s names—they clung to each other like it was the only thing holding them to the earth.

They lay tangled together beneath the sheets, skin flushed and slick, hearts slowly finding a steady rhythm again.

Lisa’s head rested on Carla’s shoulder, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles across her skin. Carla’s hand gently stroked her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling—both of them lost in the kind of silence that usually comes after something life-shifting.

It was Lisa who spoke first.

“So…” she murmured, her voice still a little hoarse. “What happens now?”

Carla was quiet for a beat, then let out a soft laugh—not mocking, more like disbelief.

“We can’t go back to being just friends,” she said, turning her head to look at Lisa. Her eyes were softer now, more serious. “I mean… how could we?”

Lisa shifted slightly, propping herself up on an elbow to meet her gaze.

“You don’t think we could?” she asked gently, not entirely surprised but wanting to hear it out loud.

Carla reached up and brushed a strand of hair from Lisa’s face, her fingers lingering. “No,” she said simply. “I’m addicted to you now. That smile. That body. That moan—”

Lisa laughed, cheeks flushing.

“I’m serious,” Carla continued. “I don’t think I can un-know what it feels like to be with you. I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends when all I’ll be thinking about is the next time I get to touch you.”

Lisa bit her lip, heart fluttering.

“I’m not saying we have to start planning a future or anything dramatic,” Carla added, a little more cautiously now. “But… what if we just kept it simple? Honest. No pressure. Just… see where this goes. Friends who also happen to make each other come until they forget their names.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “So… friends with benefits?”

Carla smirked. “With very generous benefits.”

Lisa grinned, her voice soft but playful. “I mean, it’s a compelling pitch.”

“So… you’re in?” Carla asked, eyes narrowing just slightly, testing the waters.

Lisa leaned down and kissed her—slow and lingering, with a hint of promise.

“I’m in,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

“Carla, you what?” Michelle said, dropping onto the sofa, eyes wide. “You did not just tell me you went to Lisa’s wearing nothing but a trench coat and heels, had sex, and now you’ve decided to start a friends-with-benefits arrangement!”

Carla ran a hand through her hair, trying not to look as flustered as she felt.

“Okay, yeah… I did just tell you that.”

Michelle stared at her.

“Carla, are you serious right now? You’re fifty. Aren’t you a bit too old for the whole friends-with-benefits thing?”

Carla turned sharply, frowning.

“I didn’t realise there was an age limit on enjoying yourself. And I definitely didn’t expect you to judge so harshly.”

She headed towards her room.

“Love, I’m not judging,” Michelle called after her. “I just want you to be careful.”

Carla stopped just shy of the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. She didn’t turn around.

“Chelle, for once, I’m doing something for me. Something simple, something that isn’t wrapped up in drama or expectations. Lisa and I—we know what this is. It’s easy, it’s fun, and it will work. We enjoy each other’s company, both in and out of bed. That’s all.”

A pause.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to her. She doesn’t know I told you.”

Michelle softened.

“Of course. My lips are sealed. Just… be honest with yourself, alright?”

Carla didn’t reply. She just nodded once, quietly, before disappearing into the bedroom.

Carla sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, staring at Lisa’s name glowing on the screen. She chewed her thumbnail for a second, then sighed and hit FaceTime before she could overthink it—more than she already had.

Lisa answered after two rings, her face lighting up the screen. She was in a hoodie—Carla’s hoodie, in fact—with her hair damp and swept back, makeup-free and effortlessly gorgeous.

“Well, look who it is,” Lisa grinned. “Calling for a repeat performance already?”

Carla smirked. “Tempting. But no. I mean—kind of. But not really.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“Are you free? Thought I might swing by… we should probably talk.”

Lisa tilted her head, feigning suspicion. “You’re not about to tell me you’ve caught feelings, are you?”

Carla laughed—too quickly, a bit too loud. “Please. I’m fifty, not fifteen.” She softened. “Just think we should have a little chat. Set some… boundaries.”

“Mm, boring grown-up stuff,” Lisa teased. “Will you at least wear that coat again while we talk about it?”

“I was planning joggers and messy hair, actually.”

“Even better.” Lisa gave her a smile. “Come over. I’ve got wine open, and I’m in the mood for negotiation.”

“You always are,” Carla murmured, lips twitching into a smile.

“Ten minutes?”

“Fifteen. I’ve got to find clean socks.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Lisa grinned. “Door’s open.”

The call ended, and Carla sat for a minute, heart thudding harder than she liked to admit. She reached for her trainers, muttering to herself as she stood:

“Just a conversation. Just rules. Nice, sensible boundaries…”

Carla knocked softly on Lisa’s door, tugging at her hoody nervously. When the door swung open, Lisa was there—hair damp, wearing that oversized hoodie that somehow made her look effortlessly irresistible.

“Well, if it isn’t the jogger queen,” Lisa teased, flashing a slow, mischievous smile.

Carla’s heart skipped a beat. “Hey, I clean up pretty well too, you know.”

Lisa stepped aside, letting her in. “Come on in. Wine’s open. I was starting to think you’d chicken out and leave me to drink alone.”

Carla stepped inside, suddenly aware of how close they were. She felt a flutter in her chest—and a strange urge to just lean in and kiss her. But she stopped herself. Was that allowed? Were kisses part of this? Or just the easy, no-strings sex?

They settled on opposite ends of the sofa, the space between them charged with unspoken tension.

Carla swallowed hard, biting her lip. She wanted to reach over—to brush a strand of hair from Lisa’s face, to close the gap between them with a kiss. But the rules… or the lack of rules, made her hesitate.

“I don’t really know where to start. This is new for both of us, and I don’t think we need strict rules or anything. Maybe we just need to talk about what we’re both comfortable with. Like— is this just about sex, or, say, if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay? Or would that make things more complicated?”

“I didn’t really think about any of that. But, I guess when we’re alone, a kiss wouldn’t hurt—especially since you’re really good at it. Honestly, I’d be pretty stupid to turn that down.”

Carla smiled, feeling some of the tension ease.

“Okay, so kisses are allowed. Got it. But keeping it to ourselves? That’s a must.”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, but decided not to mention Michelle. No need to complicate things. She pushed the thought away. Lisa didn't need to know Michelle knew.

Lisa laughed softly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

“Good. Because I definitely don’t want anyone thinking this is more than what it is. Especially Betsy. I wouldn't want her to be confused about this situation.”

Lisa’s grin turned a little mischievous as she raised her glass to clink against Carla’s.

“Kisses are allowed. Keeping it to ourselves is a must. Got it. So, is there anything else you want to add to the rulebook, or are we flying by the seat of our pants?”

Carla took a slow sip of her wine, thinking it over.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe just… no surprises? If one of us starts seeing someone else or if anything changes, we talk about it. No sneaking around.”

Lisa nodded thoughtfully.

“Fair. No secrets. I like that.”

She leaned back with a sly smile.

“Other than that, I’m pretty sure we’re good at keeping things fun and uncomplicated.”

Carla smiled, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

“Yeah. Fun and uncomplicated. Exactly what I need.”

Carla glanced around the room, casually setting her empty glass on the coffee table.

“So… where’s Betsy tonight? Not that I’m complaining about having you to myself.”

Lisa smirked, leaning back against the sofa.

“Cinema with her aunt. She won’t be back until ten, if you want to stay for a bit.”

There was a flicker of invitation in her voice, light but unmistakable.

Carla held Lisa’s gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between them.

“Yeah?” she said softly, already shifting closer. “Then I guess I’ve got time.”

In one smooth motion, she slid onto Lisa’s lap, straddling her with a teasing smile.

“Good to know kisses are allowed.”

Before Lisa could answer, Carla leaned in and kissed her—slow, deliberate, and completely unapologetic.

Lisa smiled against Carla’s lips, her hands sliding under the hem of Carla’s sweatshirt, fingertips grazing warm skin.

“Well,” she murmured between kisses, “we might as well make the most of having the place to ourselves.”

Carla let out a breathy laugh, her voice low. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Lisa shifted gently, guiding Carla back onto the sofa, lowering her until she was lying flat. Their eyes met for a moment—charged, playful, but soft around the edges. There was trust there. Familiarity wrapped in something newly electric.

She leaned down, kissing her again—slower now, more deliberate—before her hands moved to the waistband of Carla’s joggers.

“These,” Lisa said with a smirk, fingers teasing the fabric, “really need to go.”

Once they were off, Lisa let them fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Her hands moved back to Carla’s hips, fingertips grazing gently as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear.

Eyes locked with Carla’s, she leaned in and murmured, “Still okay?”

Carla nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “More than okay.”

With that, Lisa slowly slid the last barrier down, her movements tender but purposeful—no rush, just the quiet thrill of knowing they were completely alone, and completely in sync.

Lisa’s kisses trailed lower, slow and deliberate, lips brushing along soft skin with just enough pressure to make Carla’s breath catch. Her hands gripped Carla’s thighs, spreading them gently, her eyes flicking up with a wicked glint before she dipped her head and disappeared between them.

Carla gasped, one hand flying to the back of the sofa, the other gripping a cushion as her hips rolled instinctively.

“Oh—God, Lisa…” she breathed, eyes fluttering closed.

Lisa moved with expert precision, tongue teasing, circling, tasting, never rushing—every stroke calculated to push Carla closer. Carla’s moans grew louder, sharper, her thighs trembling as tension built low in her belly, winding tighter with every breathless second.

Her body arched as release overtook her—head thrown back, toes curling, a cry escaping her lips that filled the room. She rode the wave, breathless and undone, until her body finally stilled, sinking into the cushions beneath her.

Lisa kissed her way back up slowly, grinning against Carla’s skin, and finally settled beside her.

Carla let out a dazed laugh, brushing hair off her damp forehead.

“You,” she said between breaths, “have a very, very talented tongue.”

Lisa smirked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“I know.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against Carla’s. “And I like watching you fall apart.”

Carla chuckled, pulling her closer.

“Yeah, well… consider me thoroughly ruined.”

They lay there for a moment, bodies tangled, the air still warm and charged between them.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Lisa husked, voice low and full of heat. “We’ve still got an hour before Betsy’s home… and I wouldn’t mind ruining you a few more times before then.”

Carla didn’t need to be asked twice. In a blur of breathless laughter, she climbed off the sofa and bolted from the room, pausing just outside the doorway with a teasing smirk.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Lisa was on her feet in a second, chasing after her. Carla’s giggles echoed up the stairs as she darted into the bedroom, throwing herself onto the bed. Seconds later, Lisa was there, crawling over her with slow, predatory intent.

Her fingers traced along Carla’s thighs, dipping lower with purpose.

“Still so fucking wet,” she murmured, eyes dark and locked on Carla’s. “Just begging for me.”

Carla’s breath hitched, body already aching in anticipation. There was something about this version of Lisa—the shift in energy, the way she took control without hesitation—that left Carla undone. Confident. Commanding. And completely irresistible.

“I’m so wet for you,” she moaned, hands gripping the sheets. “Please, Lisa… don’t make me wait.”

“What would you do if I did make you wait?” Lisa murmured, as she traced a single finger slowly through Carla’s slick folds.

Carla shivered, hips twitching toward her touch. “You wouldn’t dare. We don’t have long.”

Lisa smirked, lowering her face just enough for her breath to graze Carla’s skin.

“Oh, I’m sorry—did Miss Connor just dare me?” Her finger stilled, barely touching now. “We’ve got an hour… a lot can happen in an hour. Or, nothing at all.”

She let that hang in the air, eyes gleaming. “What if I just teased you? Kept you right on the edge until you were begging, and then sent you home… dripping wet, aching for it, and left you like that until the next time I saw you?”

Carla let out a frustrated, breathy huff, her legs pressing together involuntarily.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said again, though her voice was far less certain this time.

Lisa leaned in, her lips brushing just under Carla’s ear.

“Wanna bet?”

Carla had unleashed something in her. This wasn’t the same Lisa who once fumbled over her nerves and second-guessed every move. No—this was something else entirely. Confident. In control. Unapologetically bold.

It wasn’t the Lisa Carla had expected… but it was one she couldn’t get enough of.

Lisa’s touch was maddening—just enough to set Carla alight, never enough to let her fall over the edge. Every brush of her fingers, every breath against her skin, was perfectly placed and achingly withheld.

Carla writhed beneath her, a flushed, breathless mess. “Lisa… please…” she whimpered, her voice strained and needy.

Lisa grinned, lips grazing Carla’s inner thigh.

“What was that?”

“Please,” Carla gasped again, hips lifting toward her hand. “I need you.”

Lisa dragged a single finger up through her slick folds, watching Carla tremble. Her voice was low and wicked.

“You’re so close… it’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just one touch… and I could have you coming in seconds.”

Carla nodded desperately, hands fisting the sheets. “Yes—please, Lisa. I’m begging.”

But instead, Lisa pulled back.

Carla blinked in disbelief. “Wait… what—”

Lisa sat back on her heels, slow and smug. “Get dressed.”

Carla stared, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

Lisa leaned in close, brushing her lips over Carla’s without kissing her.

“Dead serious. You’re going home just like this—dripping wet, shaking, desperate. And you’re not going to touch yourself. Not even a little.”

Carla let out a shaky breath, her body still humming.

“That’s torture.”

Lisa smiled sweetly. “No. That’s anticipation.”

Then, with a darker edge, she added:

“And I’ll know if you cheat. So don’t even think about it.”

Carla groaned, flopping back against the mattress with a frustrated laugh.

“You are evil.”

“You love it.”

And she did. Every maddening second of it.

Chapter Text

Lisa pushed open the factory doors, clutching a coffee in one hand and a bacon barm in the other. She wasn’t stupid—she knew she couldn’t just turn up empty-handed. Not after how things had been left.

It had been four days since she’d left Carla on the edge, desperate and trembling. She’d fully intended to see her the next day—to finish what she’d started—but life had other plans. Long shifts, missed calls, clashing schedules. And now… well, Carla had been walking around like a bear with a sore head, and Lisa had a pretty good idea why.

She was just steps from Carla’s office when Sally intercepted her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Morning, DS Swain. If you know what’s good for you, I’d turn right back around. Mrs. Connor is… not herself today. Doesn’t seem in the mood for visitors.”

Before Lisa could respond, Carla’s office door swung open. Carla stood in the doorway, eyes sharp, voice clipped.

“Back to work, Sally.”

Sally shot Lisa a good luck look and disappeared.

Carla stepped aside without a word, letting Lisa pass before shutting the door firmly behind her. She didn’t go behind her desk—instead, she dropped onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Lisa took the chair opposite and held out the peace offering.

“Coffee and a bacon barm. Truce?”

Carla stared at her, deadpan.

“A peace offering. You really think that’s going to fix this?”

Lisa blinked. “It’s a start—”

“Lisa,” Carla cut her off, voice low and furious, “I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. I feel like I’m going to combust. I can’t even take a shower without the water hitting my clit and making me feel like I’m about to come. And I can’t—because the next time I do, it needs to be on your face or with your fingers inside me.”

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it again. She shifted slightly in her seat, trying—and failing—to keep her expression neutral.

Carla leaned back, crossing her arms, lips twitching into a frustrated scowl.

“So unless that bacon barm has a side of orgasm, I’d say it’s not going to cut it.”

“I said I was sorry,” Lisa replied, holding her hands up slightly. “When i started this, I genuinely thought I’d swing by the flat the next morning, help you start your day off right. I didn’t expect things to get so hectic… or for you to be left waiting this long. If it’s any consolation, I’m just as turned on.”

“No, that doesn’t help. Because you weren’t edged and abandoned. If you’re turned on, that’s your own fault.”

She leaned forward, voice low and seething with need.

“But you started this. So you can damn well finish it. Get under the desk and make me come—I’m going insane.”

Lisa blinked, her jaw tightening slightly at the force behind the words—and the undeniable heat in Carla’s eyes.

“Carla, you can’t be serious,” Lisa said, her eyes widening.

Carla raised a brow, already standing.

“I didn’t wear a dress for nothing.” Her tone was playful but edged with urgency. “Come on—where’s your sense of excitement?”

Before Lisa could respond, Carla stepped behind her desk, hooked her fingers into the waistband of her leggings and knickers, and slipped them off in one swift motion. She casually stuffed them into a drawer, then sat down, legs crossing slowly as she met Lisa’s gaze.

“Well?” she said, voice cool and commanding. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to fix the mess you made?”

Lisa stood frozen for a beat, her mind caught somewhere between common sense and undeniable temptation. She glanced at Carla—legs crossed under the desk, a smug, expectant look on her face—and felt her self-control start to fray.

She took a slow step forward, then another, eyes locked with Carla’s.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was no real protest in her voice—only heat.

Carla leaned back in her chair, a slow smirk curling at her lips.

“You love it.”

Lisa was just reaching the desk, her hand brushing the edge, when—

Knock knock.

They both froze.

“Carla?” came Sally’s voice from the other side of the door. “Your ten o’clock’s here. Bit early, I told him to wait but he said he was in a rush.”

Carla closed her eyes, exhaling sharply through her nose.

“Of course he did.”

Lisa stepped back quickly, rubbing her hands down her thighs, trying to pull herself together.

Carla opened her drawer and yanked out her underwear and leggings, muttering,

“This is actual hell.”

Lisa grinned despite herself.

“You’ll survive. Maybe.”

Carla glared at her while tugging her leggings back on.

“You’d better finish what you started. And soon.”

Lisa reached for the forgotten coffee on the table.

“Oh, I plan to.”

A few hours had passed, Lisa sat at her desk, squinting at her computer screen, when her phone buzzed. She reached for it without thinking—just as another message came through.

Carla: Still so turned on I’m seriously considering just handling it myself right here on the sofa.

Lisa blinked, already bracing herself.

Buzz.

Another message came in—this time, a photo. Carefully angled, tasteful but unmistakably suggestive: the hem of Carla’s dress hitched high, legs parted just enough, a tease of skin that sent heat rushing through Lisa’s veins.

Carla:Or you could come over early and stop me. Your call.

Lisa let out a breath, glancing around the office like someone might be reading over her shoulder. No one was. She unlocked her phone and stared at the photo a little too long before typing:

Lisa:You’re playing a dangerous game, Carla

Carla:You love it.

Lisa:God help me, I really do.

Buzz.

Carla:Be here at 7:30. Michelle’s will be here too. For the takeaway, obviously. Not this.

Lisa smirked.

Lisa:See you tonight. And try not to start without me.

Lisa arrived at Carla’s just after 7:30, takeaway bag in hand. Carla opened the door before she could even knock, her expression unreadable—until Lisa’s eyes dropped.

Joggers. No bra. And if Lisa’s instincts were right… no underwear either.

Carla barely had the door closed behind Lisa when she stepped in close, her voice low and urgent.

“How long do I have to wait?” she whispered, her eyes flicking up and down Lisa’s body. “I’m aching. It’s been days.”

Lisa didn’t answer. She dropped the takeaway bag on the counter and then simply grabbed Carla by the waist, spun her, and pressed her back against the door with a quiet, firm thud. One hand slid to the waistband of Carla’s joggers, tugging them down in one swift, fluid motion.

Carla gasped—but didn’t stop her.

Lisa dropped to her knees in front of her, eyes locking with Carla’s. 

“Beg for it.”

Carla swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling quickly, already flushed.

“Lisa—”

Lisa leaned in just enough for her breath to kiss Carla’s inner thigh.

“And stay quiet,” she added, lips brushing skin, “or Michelle’s going to hear exactly what I’m doing to you.”

Carla bit her lip, her hand bracing against the door behind her, already trembling.

“Please…” she whispered, barely managing it. “Please, I need your mouth. I need to come. Right now.”

Lisa’s smile turned wicked.

“Good girl.”

It didn’t take long. Carla was already wound so tight, every nerve on edge, and Lisa knew exactly what she was doing.

Her tongue moved with practiced precision—slow, firm, relentless.

Carla’s head fell back against the door, a quiet gasp escaping her lips before she caught it with her teeth. She gripped Lisa’s hair, hips trembling, her thighs threatening to give out as the heat exploded inside her.

It hit hard—fast and deep. She came with a shudder, her mouth pressed into the crook of her elbow to muffle the sound. Lisa didn’t stop until Carla was squirming from oversensitivity, breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

Moments later, Carla tugged her joggers back up with shaky hands, cheeks flushed, hair slightly messed. Lisa stood, her own expression a mix of smug and satisfied.

Without a word, Carla walked straight into the kitchen and began dishing up the food like nothing had happened.

Carla was plating up the food at the counter, Lisa beside her, far too close to be entirely innocent. Carla handed over the cutlery with a smirk still tugging at her lips, cheeks slightly flushed but composed enough to pull it off.

“Michelle!” she called out, raising her voice just enough. “Food’s ready—come eat.”

Behind her, Lisa leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper against Carla’s ear.

“I already did.”

Carla elbowed her lightly, biting back a smile as she gave Lisa a sharp look.

Michelle appeared a second later, stepping into the kitchen, towel slung over her shoulder and her eyebrows slightly raised at the sight of them together.

Carla cleared her throat and gestured between the two of them.

“Right, introductions—finally.” She nodded at Lisa.

“Michelle, this is Lisa. Lisa, Michelle—my oldest friend, biggest headache, and the woman who knows everything about me.”

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” Lisa said warmly, holding out her hand.

Michelle shook it with a grin. “All good, I hope?”

“All true,” Carla chimed in from behind them.

Lisa laughed. “Sorry it’s taken so long. Life’s been a bit chaotic with work—I hope you didn’t think I was avoiding you.”

“Of course not,” Michelle said. “I’m here for a few more weeks yet, so we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

Carla slipped past them and dropped onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t think I like this.”

Michelle turned. “What?”

“You two,” Carla said, gesturing between them. “Becoming friends. What if you realise you get on better and I end up the awkward third wheel?”

Michelle smirked as she finished plating up her food. “I’m just going to make a quick phone call, then we’ll sit and eat—and I can hear everything about you, Lisa.”

Once Michelle disappeared down the hallway, Lisa grabbed her plate and sat beside Carla—close, but not quite touching.

“Are you really worried about that?” she asked.

“Worried about what?”

“Me and Michelle becoming friends and leaving you out?”

Carla looked sheepish. “Oh… no. Well, not really. Okay—maybe a little.”

Lisa leaned in, her lips barely a breath away from Carla’s ear.

“Carla, you’re my best friend. And, on top of that…” her voice dipped into something teasing, warm, “I really, really enjoy having sex with you. I don’t think Michelle would be open to that… unless, of course, you think she would?”

Carla snorted, flicking Lisa’s ear playfully. “Don’t even start.”

Lisa grinned and took a bite of her food. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Carla narrowed her eyes, tone half-playful, half-warning.

“Take it back. Now. Or you’ll be right back to no sex at all.”

Lisa grinned, still riding the tease.

“Come on, if you’re not up for it, I’m sure I could find someone else…”

She meant it as a joke—but the moment the words left her mouth, she saw the flicker in Carla’s eyes. The smile dropped, just slightly, replaced with something tight around the edges.

Lisa’s face fell too.

“Carla, I didn’t—”

Before she could finish, Michelle reentered the room, towel now gone and hair loosely tied back, completely unaware of the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“Right, all sorted,” she said brightly, settling down with her plate.

“So, Lisa—what’s it like being a police officer and a mum to a teenage girl? Carla’s told me loads already, but I can’t even imagine balancing all that.”

Lisa forced a polite smile, glancing briefly at Carla, who was now focused on pushing rice around her plate.

“It’s… interesting,” Lisa said after a pause. “No two days are the same, that’s for sure. Betsy’s a handful—but a good one.”

Michelle chuckled.

“You’re brave. I got lucky—boy mum. Ryan was pretty low maintenance. Still is, in his own way. Teenage girls though? That’s another level.”

Lisa let out a soft laugh, grateful for the shift in conversation.

“Tell me about it. Some days I feel like I’m raising a mini lawyer—everything’s a debate.”

Michelle grinned and took a bite of her food, settling in.

Meanwhile, Carla stayed mostly quiet, nodding along, her fork still idle on her plate.

The joke still lingered—unspoken but very much present.

Lisa didn’t dare bring it up.

Not yet.

As Michelle stood up, stretching, she grabbed her phone.

“Right, I’m nipping to the loo. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

She disappeared down the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door following behind her.

The room quieted.

Lisa glanced over at Carla, who was now focused on her plate, stirring rice with her fork more than eating it.

“You okay?” Lisa asked softly.

Carla didn’t look up right away. Then she gave a small, almost too casual shrug.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Lisa studied her for a second longer.

“You sure?”

Carla finally met her eyes, giving her a quick smile—reassuring on the surface, but a little too polished.

“Course I am. Just tired. Long day.”

Lisa nodded slowly, not pushing it.

“Okay.”

She sat back, quietly filing the moment away.

A few seconds later, the toilet flushed and Michelle called out cheerily from the hallway,

“I hope no one’s talking about me!”

Carla raised her voice just enough.

“Only about how long you take in the bathroom!”

Michelle laughed and reappeared, settling down again.

“Right, where were we?”

Carla took another bite, back to her usual smooth exterior. But Lisa kept stealing glances her way, knowing better than to think “fine” meant the conversation was over. She hadn’t meant anything by it—of course she hadn’t. It was supposed to be a harmless joke. But Carla clearly hadn’t taken it that way. They were only several days into this new dynamic, and somehow, she’d already managed to screw it up. The air between them felt off, tight in a way it hadn’t before. She knew she needed to clear things up, to say something that would fix the shift, but that was a little difficult with Michelle currently sitting across from them, completely unaware.

“Michelle, what’s it like being back?” Lisa asked, keeping her tone light.

“Honestly?” Michelle smiled. “It’s almost like I never left. The people haven’t changed much—though their relationships probably have more than anything else. But it’s nice being with Carla and Ryan again. I miss them loads when I’m in Dublin.”

“Would you ever consider moving back?”

Michelle shook her head without hesitation.

“I don’t think so. It’s great being here for a few weeks, but any longer and I’d start remembering all the bad stuff. I’ve moved on. I’m not the same person anymore, and Dublin… well, it fits the new me.”

Carla, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, muttered under her breath just loud enough to be heard:

“Well, that’s if you don’t piss off any more women by sleeping with their boyfriends.”

Lisa blinked, glancing between them.

Michelle let out a dry laugh and pushed her chair back.

“On that note, I think I’m going to head to bed.” She stood up, smoothing her top. “It was really lovely meeting you, Lisa. I hope I see more of you before I go—and I’d love to meet your daughter too. Carla can’t say enough good things about her.”

“It was great meeting you too,” Lisa said warmly. “And yes, definitely—we’ll set something up before you leave.”

Michelle leaned down, pressed a kiss to Carla’s cheek and whispered with a smile,

“Night, love.”

“Night,” Carla replied, watching her go before finally letting out a quiet breath.

As Michelle’s footsteps faded down the hallway, silence settled over the room. Carla stayed on the sofa, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Lisa glanced over, then spoke gently.

“That comment to Michelle… it felt a bit uncalled for.”

Carla didn’t look up.

“She knows I didn’t mean it.”

Lisa tilted her head.

“Did she because she headed to bed pretty quickly after you saying it. Besides that, I wanted to say sorry. That thing I said earlier—about finding someone else—it was meant as a joke. I didn’t think it would bother you like that.”

Carla gave a tight shrug.

“It’s fine.”

Lisa leaned in, voice firmer now.

“Clearly it’s not. So why don’t you just tell me what’s actually bothering you? We talk about it, clear the air, and move on.”

Carla exhaled slowly, finally turning to meet Lisa’s gaze.

“I just… I didn’t like hearing how easily you could pull another woman. Not even an hour ago, you had me pressed against the front door, going down on me like you couldn’t get enough. And yeah, I know we’re just friends with benefits—nothing more—but hearing you joke like I’m replaceable? It stung. A bit more than I expected, honestly.”

The room went quiet again, tension crackling just beneath the surface.

Lisa shifted closer on the sofa, her voice quieter now, more sincere.

“Carla… I didn’t mean anything by it, honestly. It was a stupid joke, not even a good one. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you could be replaced.”

Carla looked away, jaw tight.

Lisa reached out, gently nudging her knee.

“If we’re being real, if anyone’s going to move on and leave the other behind, it’s more likely to be you replacing me—not the other way around.”

Carla’s eyes flicked back to hers, surprised.

“You think that?”

Lisa gave a small, crooked smile.

“You’re Carla Connor. You always bounce back. People want you, they orbit around you. Me? I’m just the cop who’s still figuring this whole thing out. Half the time I’m wondering how I even got this lucky. Not only do I get to be your best friend and spend time with you, but now I get to have sex with you too. And I mean—have you had sex with you? Because honestly, it’s pretty incredible.”

Carla rolled her eyes, but her posture relaxed just a little.

“You didn’t get lucky, Lisa. We both did. Don’t make it sound one-sided.”

Lisa smiled softly.

“Then let’s not mess it up with bad jokes and overthinking, yeah?”

Carla let out a slow breath and nodded.

“Yeah… alright.”

Lisa nudged her again, this time with a playful glint in her eyes.

“And just for the record, I haven’t wanted to pull anyone else. I’m kind of busy being obsessed with the woman in joggers and no knickers.”

Carla let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“We’ve only been doing this friends-with-benefits thing for, what, a week? And I’m already freaking out. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘casual,’ does it?”

Lisa grinned smugly, stretching her arms behind her head.

“It’s alright. Next week’ll be my turn to spiral—though, to be fair, I don’t expect to be replaced anytime soon.”

Carla raised a brow, amused.

“Oh really?”

Lisa shrugged, her grin widening.

“I mean… I’m the only person who’s gone down on you and made you come. That’s a pretty solid skill set to keep me at the top of the list, don’t you think?”

Carla snorted, trying to hide her smile.

“Wow. Your ego is really something else.”

Lisa leaned in slightly, teasing.

“Confident, not cocky. And admit it—you’re not complaining.”

Carla smirked, nudging her with her foot.

“Not yet. But keep talking like that and I might have to test your theory… make you prove you’ve still got it.”

Lisa chuckled.

“Challenge accepted.”

They both relaxed into the sofa, the tension from earlier forgotten, replaced with a warmth only built by laughter, honesty—and maybe just a bit of smugness.

Chapter Text

Carla knocked on the door, and within seconds it opened.

“Thank you for coming,” Lisa said, already flustered. “Betsy is stressing out, and I’m just making everything worse apparently.”

“That sounds about right,” Carla laughed, stepping into the house. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs,” Lisa replied.

Carla closed the front door behind her, then gently spun Lisa around and pressed her against it, kissing her without hesitation. It had been two weeks since their friends-with-benefits arrangement began, and aside from Lisa’s one comment about replacing Carla—a moment they’d both chosen to forget—it had been going surprisingly smoothly.

By day, they were still best friends. But in the evenings and at night, things shifted: flirty texts, sexy FaceTimes, and on two rare occasions, quickies squeezed in between Betsy getting home and Michelle’s bath time. It wasn’t ideal, but they knew what they’d signed up for. Friends with benefits meant sex—and without it, they were just best friends who got off on camera together.

“Right, I better go help Bets,” Carla said, already backing toward the hallway. “But pour me a glass of wine, because once she’s out the door, you and I have some very hands-on catching up to do. It’s been way too long since I’ve touched you.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, her smile wicked. “Wine I can do. But as for the rest… sex is officially cancelled. Mother Nature showed up this morning—completely uninvited.”

Carla groaned, stepping closer. “Seriously? Ugh, I had plans for that body tonight.”

Lisa leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Who says you can’t still enjoy it? I just said you can’t touch me. I didn’t say anything about me touching you.”

Carla’s breath hitched slightly, then she pulled back with a playful pout. “Tempting. But no. When we go there again, I want it to be a proper mutual event. Full participation, equal pleasure, no… compromises.”

Lisa crossed her arms, grinning. “Fine. Wine, a giant bar of chocolate, and a movie. But if you say How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, I swear I’m kicking you out.”

Carla gasped. “Why do you hate joy? It’s got everything—Kate Hudson, yellow dresses, Matthew McConaughey being hot and confused.”

“Exactly my point.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “Let’s watch Beaches.”

“Beaches? Lisa, I’m trying to seduce you, not turn into a sobbing mess halfway through a bottle of wine. What about Miss Congeniality? Sandra Bullock in that red dress? Come on.”

Lisa’s eyes sparkled. “Now that I can get behind. And, hey—next movie night, I promise to sit through your Kate Hudson love-fest.”

Carla smirked. “You’d really do that for me?”

Lisa stepped forward, brushing her lips against Carla’s ear. “You know I’d do a lot of things for you. Even suffer through rom-com torture… if there’s a reward after.”

“There could be rewards before, during, and after,” Carla murmured.

“I think I’m definitely going to enjoy this little arrangement,” she said with a smirk. “I mean, before we became friends with benefits, you wouldn’t give me any rewards for watching your films. I’d sit there and suffer while you talked through the entire movie, but the second I spoke, you told me to shh.”

“I wasn’t talking, I was reciting the lines — there’s a difference. And yes, this definitely has its perks. You get orgasms, and I get to watch the films I like,” Carla stated matter-of-factly.

“I can’t be thinking about orgasms right now. My stomach hurts. Go help Bets before she comes down here looking for you. I’ll be in the living room, waiting — with wine, snacks, and Miss Congeniality.”

Carla headed upstairs, stopping just in front of Betsy’s bedroom. She knocked lightly before gently pushing the door open. Inside, Betsy’s entire wardrobe was sprawled across the bed, while the teenager sat at her mirror, curling her hair.

“Bets, you look lovely,” Carla said with a warm smile. “What exactly did you need my help with? Your mum said you were having a clothing crisis, but you look almost ready.”

Betsy stood up, closed the bedroom door, swept the pile of clothes onto the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t really need help,” she admitted. “I just needed someone to talk to. And, well… Mum’s probably not the best person right now. If Becky were alive, I’d be talking to her. But since she’s not, I figured I could talk to you. I know you’ll tell Mum — but you can break it to her gently. She listens to you.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going?” Carla said cautiously.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, turned to face Betsy, and gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

Betsy nodded, took a breath, and said, “Okay. Well, you know Mason and I have been seeing each other for a while. He’s been working at Speed Daal, and he’s saved up enough to take me out for a proper meal… and he’s also booked us a hotel for the night.”

Carla didn’t need any more details — she knew exactly what Betsy was trying to say and why she was saying it to her. Lisa would no doubt fly off the handle, forbid her from going, and shut the conversation down entirely. But Carla… Carla could soften the blow.

“Right,” Carla said gently. “Okay. Do you have protection?”

“I’m on the pill,” Betsy replied quickly, “but I know that doesn’t protect against STDs, so Mason has condoms. I promise we’ll use them.”

“Okay, so you’ve thought that part through,” Carla said with a small nod. “My next question is — are you ready? Mason’s not pressuring you, is he?”

Carla couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. It was one she thought she’d never get to have — not since her miscarriage. She wasn’t sure she was equipped for it, and she didn’t want to overstep or make Lisa feel like she was trying to take Becky's place as a parent. But Betsy had come to her, and that meant something. So she leaned in, listened, and tried to be what the girl needed in that moment.

“No, it was actually my idea,” Betsy said, her voice steady but earnest. “I love him, Carla — and he loves me too. He’s really respectful, and I want him to be the one. I want him to take my virginity. He’s worked so hard to save up for the hotel because he wants it to be special.”

She hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“So… I was thinking maybe you could tell Mum after I’ve left — just so she knows I’m not coming home. That way, she won’t completely lose it if you’re here to explain. You’re her best friend, and she actually listens to you. You can talk her down if she tries to come looking for me.”

“Okay, fine,” Carla said with a sigh. “But you have to promise me a few things. Use protection — every time. Talk to Mason beforehand and make sure you’re both on the same page. And if at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to come home, you call me. I don’t care what time it is — I’ll come and get you, no questions asked.”

She gave Betsy’s hand another squeeze.

“Text me the name of the restaurant and the hotel you’re staying at. I’ll talk to your mum and keep her from coming after you. And… thank you. For being honest with me, and for trusting me.”

Betsy leaned over and pulled Carla into a hug. “Thank you, Carla. Right, I’d better go — Mason should be outside.”

She stood up and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, she paused, turned back, and said softly, “Thank you again, Carla.”

“Let’s wait to thank me until I manage to convince your mum not to come looking for you,” Carla replied.

They both walked into the living room, where Lisa was lounging on the sofa, sipping wine and popping a square of Galaxy chocolate into her mouth.

“Wow, Betsy — you look beautiful,” Lisa said, smiling. “All ready for your date with Mason?”

“Yes,” Betsy replied. “Carla really helped me. Well, I’d better get going.”

“Have a good night,” Carla said gently. “And remember what I said.”

Betsy crossed the room to Lisa, pressed a kiss to her cheek, then turned to Carla and pulled her into a hug.

“I promise,” she whispered.

“Have a good night, Bets,” Lisa called after her, watching as Betsy disappeared from the room.

Carla sank onto the sofa beside her, and Lisa wordlessly handed over her glass of wine. As Carla took a sip and placed it on the table, Lisa leaned over, placed a square of chocolate in her mouth, then let her gaze linger — first on Carla’s lips, then back to her eyes.

Without a word, Lisa leaned in and kissed her, her tongue brushing across Carla’s bottom lip, asking for permission. Carla parted her lips, and Lisa’s tongue slipped inside without hesitation. Hands found their way to each other’s bodies, breaths quickened, and before Carla fully registered what was happening, she was on her back — Lisa above her on the sofa, warm and insistent.

Carla knew she should stop, that she should talk to Lisa — but she also knew Betsy wouldn’t have made it very far yet. And with the way Lisa’s hands moved over her body, focusing on anything else was becoming nearly impossible.

Lisa suddenly pulled back, her breathing heavy as she hovered over Carla.

“Why did you stop?” Carla asked, her voice low, eyes still locked on Lisa’s.

Lisa hesitated. “Because you told me you didn’t want this to feel one-sided… and I’m on my period. I didn’t want to push things if you weren’t really into it.”

Carla let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Lisa, I’m soaked. If you touched me for five more seconds, I’d probably beg you not to stop.” She smirked, then her tone softened. “But… I do need to talk to you first. Something important.”

Lisa’s smile faded slightly, curiosity replacing heat. “Okay. What is it?”

Lisa held out her hand and gently pulled Carla up to sit.

“Right — promise me you’ll just listen. Don’t leave the room, don’t kick off, and no other classic Lisa Swain reactions. Just sit… and hear me out.”

“I'm not sure if I like the sound of this” Lisa replied.

Carla wasn’t sure how to start—words tangled in her throat—but she knew what she wanted to say. An idea sparked. Without giving herself time to overthink, she climbed off the sofa and straddled Lisa’s lap.

“This is just to make sure you can’t leave,” she said, her voice low but steady. “Because once I tell you what I’m about to tell you, your only options are to kiss me… or sit here and pout. Leaving’s not one of them.”

“Okay, just tell me—rip off the plaster.”

“Betsy’s going to have sex with Mason tonight.”

Lisa blinked once, then twice, as if processing the words. Then, without saying anything, she leaned in and kissed Carla—quick, certain, and full of something Carla couldn’t quite name.

When she pulled away, her eyes searched Carla’s face.

“Are you okay?” Carla asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa didn’t answer. She just kissed her again—slower this time, deeper, like she’d decided something in that moment and wasn’t about to take it back.

Lisa pulled back again. “Right… okay. I mean, it’s not okay—but I’m guessing she told you because she wanted to be honest with me, just not directly. And she knew you would break the news gently. So… thank you for being that person for her.”

“Always,” Carla said softly. “I’ll always be there for both of you. And… you’re not angry that she told me first?”

“No,” Lisa shook her head. “In all honesty, I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. I react too fast, I don’t always listen, and I tend to shut down before she’s even finished. So yeah, I get it. If she feels safer confiding in you—if she trusts you—and you’re okay being that person for her… then I’m okay with it too. And I really do appreciate you being honest with me right away.”

“I’ll always be honest with you,” Carla said gently. “And just for your peace of mind—she’s got protection sorted. It was her idea, no pressure from Mason. She also said that if she feels even slightly uncomfortable, she’s going to call me and I’ll go pick her up. No questions asked.”

Lisa let out a breath, nodding slowly. Then a slow, mischievous smile spread across her lips.

“So… what I’m hearing is, we’ve got the house to ourselves.” Her eyes didn’t leave Carla’s. “Now, if you’re still worried about this being one-sided, we can just lie on the sofa and watch Sandra Bullock in a tight dress with a gun—while I pretend that’s not the second-hottest thing I could be doing tonight…”

She leaned in just a little closer. “But if you’re up for it… I’d much rather take you to bed and make you forget every single line of that movie.”

Carla shifted on Lisa’s lap, her body already warm and aching with need. She was soaked—turned on beyond reason—and the truth was, they hadn’t properly had sex since that night Carla had shown up in nothing but a trench coat. It had been three quickies, over and done with before they could even enjoy it.

“Are you sure you’re up for it? You said you had period cramps—I can always grab you a hot water bottle and let you stare at Sandra Bullock instead.”

“Stomach cramps,” Lisa said, smirking. “Not tongue or hand cramps. I’m absolutely up for fucking you—and I promise not to leave you high and dry.”

Carla leaned in, her voice low and rough. “If you even think about it, I’ll get myself off right in front of you.”

“Get upstairs, then,” Lisa ordered.

Carla climbed off her lap, heart racing, and took Lisa’s outstretched hand. Lisa led her up the stairs, and Carla followed without hesitation. She didn’t know what it was exactly—but whatever it was, she couldn’t get enough of Lisa.

Lisa led Carla to the bed and gently pushed her to sit on the edge. Then she dropped to her knees in front of her, eyes never leaving Carla’s. One by one, she pulled off Carla’s boots, then slowly slid down her leggings, letting them fall to the floor.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” Lisa murmured, her voice thick with want. “And look how soaked you are.”

She leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss just above the thin fabric covering Carla’s clit.

“The last time we really had sex, it was unreal—like, I’ve never experienced anything like that,” Carla said, her voice low and teasing. “And then the time after… you left me high and—well, I’d say dry, but there was nothing dry about me. So yeah, you’ve got some serious making up to do.”

“Oh, do I now?” Lisa smirked, running her hands slowly up the inside of Carla’s thighs. “Well, I have a better idea—one you actually gave me while we were downstairs.”

Carla’s breath hitched. “What’s that?”

“I want you to fuck yourself for me,” Lisa said, her voice a soft command. “I want you to work yourself up, make yourself come—just for me. And when you do…” She leaned in closer, lips brushing Carla’s ear. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Carla couldn’t stop the wetness that pooled between her thighs. Sex with men had never been like this—never made her feel so wanted, so intensely desired. With them, it was usually a quick blowjob, five minutes of uninspired missionary, and then they’d pass out while she finished herself off—quietly, in the shower or beside them in the dark.

But this—being watched—was different. A little daunting. A little thrilling.

Lisa must’ve sensed the hesitation because her voice softened.

“You don’t have to,” she said gently. “I mean, if you’re not into it, that’s totally fine. I just… I think it would be really fucking sexy to watch.”

Carla pulled off her top, unhooked her bra, and shuffled back against the headboard. Lisa followed, eyes fixed on her, watching every movement with quiet intensity.

Carla’s breath hitched as her fingers circled her clit, slow and teasing at first, drawing soft gasps from her lips. Every nerve felt lit, alive under Lisa’s gaze. She could feel the blonde’s stare on her like a physical touch—hot, unrelenting, and completely focused.

Lisa’s hand tightened slightly on her thigh. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a growl. “Let me see how good you can make yourself feel.”

Carla whimpered, her back arching slightly as she dipped two fingers inside herself, moaning at how slick and ready she already was. She started moving—slow, rhythmic thrusts—her hips beginning to roll in time.

“Jesus, Carla…” Lisa breathed, eyes glued to the way Carla’s fingers disappeared between her thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. So responsive. So desperate.”

Carla turned her head, locking eyes with her. Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed, every movement screaming hunger. “Keep talking,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Lisa leaned in, brushing her lips against Carla’s ear. “I love watching you fall apart like this. Knowing you’re doing it because I asked. Knowing how badly you want me to touch you, to taste you… but making yourself come just so I know how wet I make you.”

Carla’s breathing grew ragged, her fingers working faster now, her free hand clutching the sheets. She was so close—teetering right on the edge.

Lisa kissed her jaw, murmuring, “Come for me, Carla. I want to see you come.”

And that was all it took. Carla cried out, her body trembling as her orgasm crashed over her. Lisa kept her hand firmly on Carla’s thigh, grounding her through every shuddering breath and every broken sound.

As Carla came down, she gently slid her fingers out, still slick and glistening. Holding Lisa’s gaze, she lifted them to her mouth.

“Lick them clean,” she murmured, voice husky. “You know you want to.”

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Carla’s wrist and guided her fingers to her mouth, flicking her tongue over them slowly, teasingly. Then she wrapped her lips around both and sucked them clean, moaning softly at the taste, her eyes never leaving Carla’s.

Lisa slowly released Carla’s fingers from her mouth with a soft pop, licking the last of the taste from her lips. Carla watched her, heart pounding—not just from the orgasm, but from the heat still burning between them.

“Hey,” Carla said softly, brushing her fingers along Lisa’s jaw. “Do you… have a vibrator?”

Lisa blinked, surprised but clearly intrigued. “Yeah. Why?”

Carla leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Because orgasms help with period cramps. And I really want you to come at least once tonight—if you’re okay with that.”

Lisa’s brows arched slightly. “You’d use it on me?”

Carla nodded, her voice low and coaxing. “Just through your underwear. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. But I want to take care of you.” She gave a soft smile. “Let me make you feel good too.”

Lisa exhaled slowly, her eyes darkening again. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she murmured, already shifting to reach for the drawer beside the bed. “But yeah… I’m more than okay with that.”

Lisa reached into the drawer beside the bed, retrieving a small, sleek vibrator. She handed it to Carla with a quiet kind of trust, her fingers brushing Carla’s as she passed it over.

Carla smiled, then kissed her—slow, tender, but with a simmering promise underneath. “Lie back,” she whispered.

Lisa did as she was told, settling against the pillows as Carla knelt beside her. She pressed her hand to Lisa’s stomach, just above the waistband of her underwear, feeling the slight tension still lingering there.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” Carla said softly, her tone warm and careful.

“I will,” Lisa whispered. “I’m good. I want this.”

Carla clicked the vibrator on, letting it hum softly in her palm as she eased Lisa’s thighs apart. She traced the toy along the outside of her underwear, watching Lisa’s breath hitch at the first contact.

“Still good?” Carla asked.

Lisa nodded, her voice catching. “So good.”

Carla smiled, then pressed the toy a little more firmly against her—right where she knew the pressure would be perfect. Lisa’s hips twitched, a low moan spilling from her lips.

“That’s it,” Carla murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

She moved the vibrator in slow, deliberate circles over the thin fabric, watching Lisa’s body respond—her chest rising, her thighs tensing, her lips parting as soft, needy sounds escaped.

“You’re so sensitive,” Carla whispered, her own arousal returning just from watching. “God, I love seeing you like this.”

Lisa bit her lip, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

Carla didn’t. She kept the pressure steady, gradually increasing the intensity, her other hand resting gently on Lisa’s hip.

“You’re doing so good,” she said. “Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

Lisa’s moans grew louder, her body straining toward the sensation, her hands reaching for Carla blindly until their fingers intertwined.

“I’m—fuck, Carla—”

“Come for me,” Carla whispered. “Just let go.”

Lisa cried out, her body arching as the orgasm hit—hard and fast and deep. Carla held the vibrator in place until Lisa trembled beneath her, her muscles finally giving out as she collapsed back into the pillows, breathless and glowing.

Carla turned the toy off and set it aside, leaning in to kiss Lisa’s cheek, her forehead, her lips.

“How’s that for cramp relief?” she murmured with a grin.

Lisa laughed softly, still catching her breath. “I think I need to get my period more often.”

Carla shuffled down and lay beside Lisa, tracing gentle patterns across her stomach with the tips of her fingers.

“We don’t have to do anything else tonight if you’re not up for it,” she said softly. “I’m happy to head back downstairs and put on a film.”

Lisa didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rolled over with a glint in her eye and swung a leg over Carla’s thighs, straddling her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she said, smirking. “Your body is at my disposal. There are so many things I haven’t tried with you yet… and lucky for us, we’ve got all night.”

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the vibrator, wiped it off on the waistband of her shorts, and looked down at Carla.

“You ready for this?” she asked

Carla nodded, eyes already hazy with anticipation. “Only if you are.”

Lisa flicked the vibrator on and slid down just enough to press it between their bodies. 

She angled the vibrator perfectly so it was nestled between both of their clits—Carla’s bare, hers separated only by the soft, soaked fabric. The moment it made contact, they both gasped. The pressure. The heat. The vibration. It was perfect.

“Fuck,” Carla moaned, hips jerking up into the sensation.

Lisa pressed down harder, grinding slow and steady as the toy buzzed between them. “You feel that?” she rasped. “Me, soaked through my shorts… you, dripping for me.”

Carla’s hands gripped Lisa’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric. The friction of Lisa’s shorts made it even filthier, hotter—soft cotton sliding between them as the vibrator pulsed against their clits. Carla could feel Lisa’s slick heat radiating through the fabric, every grind adding to the overwhelming tension between them.

Lisa leaned down, her lips brushing Carla’s ear. “I’m gonna make you come with me,” she whispered. “I want to feel you shake under me. I want us both soaked by the time I’m done.”

She cranked the vibrator up to full, and the effect was instant—Carla cried out, her back arching, hips pressing up to meet Lisa’s every grind. Lisa moaned against her neck, her own thighs trembling as her clit throbbed against the toy through the soaked cotton barrier.

Their rhythm built—desperate, breathless. Skin sticking, friction growing, bodies locking together in perfect sync.

“Come with me,” Lisa gasped, her body coiling tight. “Let go, Carla. Come for me.”

Carla’s orgasm hit hard—raw and shaking, her moan breaking apart in Lisa’s mouth as her body convulsed beneath her. The feel of it—her heat, her sound, her release—pushed Lisa over the edge too. She ground down harder, riding out her climax with a low, feral sound, her muscles locking around the pleasure crashing through her.

They collapsed into each other, tangled and panting, the vibrator still humming weakly between their trembling thighs. Lisa shifted to the side, dragging it away and finally flicking it off.

Lisa turned her head, brushing her lips lazily against Carla's. “Still think we should’ve just watched Sandra Bullock?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Carla chuckled, still breathless. “I mean, I need a couple of minutes to recover—but it’s definitely not going to take a whole film for me to be ready again.”

Lisa grinned, brushing her fingers along Carla’s thigh. “You are insatiable.”

“No,” Carla said, her tone softening a little, “I just… didn’t know sex could actually be this good. You’d spend all night making me come over and over and not be even slightly annoyed if I never touched you back. I’ve never had that before.”

Lisa leaned in, her voice low and serious despite the grin still tugging at her lips. “Carla, you are incredibly fucking sexy. I don’t think I could ever get enough of your body. Honestly, I have no idea why we waited so long to start this, but I’m more than happy to make up for lost time.”

She kissed the corner of Carla’s mouth, then added, voice rough with want, “Hearing you moan, feeling you tighten around my fingers, coming all over my face—I can’t get enough of any of it.”

Carla let out a shaky breath, her whole body already stirring again from the words alone.

Lisa smirked. “Now hurry up and recover, because ever since the other day, I’ve been dying to return the favour and fuck you from behind.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing Carla’s ear. “You’re always going on about my arse—but yours? Just as sexy. And I plan on proving it.”

“Oh god,” Carla moaned, her voice trembling.

She tried to form words, to say something—anything—but nothing coherent would come. All she could do was feel. She knew this was supposed to be just friends with benefits, something casual, something temporary. But the truth pressed heavy in her chest: Lisa Swain had ruined her for anyone else.

No one would ever make her feel like this—like she was wanted, known, worshipped. No one but the blonde detective would ever make her come over and over again.

Lisa didn’t waste time. Once Carla had caught her breath, Lisa sat up, her eyes dark and focused as she looked her over—like she was already picturing every move she was about to make.

“On the floor,” she said, voice low but firm. “Knees down, lean over the bed for me.”

Carla’s pulse jumped. She moved without hesitation, slipping off the mattress and sinking to her knees, her elbows resting on the edge of the bed. 

Lisa slid in behind her, admiring the way Carla’s arse looked.

“God,” she breathed, running her hand over the curve of Carla’s hip, then slowly dragging it back to palm her arse. “You look so fucking incredible like this.”

Carla let out a soft moan at the touch, pressing her hips back just slightly.

Lisa leaned in close, her lips at Carla’s ear. “Tell me something…” she murmured. “Do you like having your arse smacked?”

Carla let out a breathless laugh. “Haven’t really tried it.”

Lisa grinned, her hand resting on Carla’s cheek again, fingers splayed. “Then maybe we should find out.”

Before Carla could respond, Lisa brought her palm down in a quick, sharp smack—firm, not too hard, but enough to sting and spark a jolt straight through her core.

Carla gasped, her hips jolting forward. “Fuck…” she breathed.

 “That a good ‘fuck’ or a stop ‘fuck’?”

Carla turned her head slightly, her eyes wild with heat. “Definitely a good one.”

“Good,” Lisa purred, her voice dark and teasing. “Because I plan on doing it every time you moan like that.”

They’d only had sex a few times, but already Lisa was opening up Carla’s world in ways she hadn’t expected. She’d always thought sex was good—sometimes even great. With Peter, she usually managed to come, at least once. But he was a man, and biology often got in the way. After he finished, things slowed down—sometimes he’d be up for a second round, and on a really good day, maybe a third. But it always involved waiting, hoping, a lot of downtime before anything started again.

With Lisa, it was different. There was no pause, no waiting—no let-up at all. It was wave after wave, orgasm after orgasm, like Lisa had found every switch in her body and knew exactly when and how to flip it.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” Lisa murmured, her voice low and rough. “Seeing you like this… dripping, soaked, and so ready for me.”

Carla let out a soft moan—barely audible, but not lost on Lisa. A second later, Lisa’s hand landed sharply on Carla’s right cheek.

“Oh god,” Carla gasped.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy this—this raw mix of pain and pleasure—but it thrilled her. She couldn’t get enough.

Moments later, Lisa slid two fingers through Carla’s slick folds, gathering her arousal before trailing it up to her clit. She circled it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure. Carla moaned again, louder this time, and Lisa responded with another sharp smack—this time on the left cheek, firmer than the first. Then she smoothed her hand over the heated skin, soothing the sting.

“Lisa, please… I need you to fuck me,” Carla breathed.

“Oh, is that right?” Lisa teased, her tone low and wicked. “You want my fingers deep inside you?”

“So fucking much,” Carla gasped, pushing her hips back in invitation.

Lisa let out a husky laugh. “Well, who am I to say no?”

She leaned down, dragging her tongue slowly through Carla’s slick folds. “You taste so fucking good,” she murmured against her. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Lisa’s tongue lingered for a moment longer, savouring the taste, before she pulled back and brought her hand between Carla’s thighs. With deliberate slowness, she slid two fingers inside, pushing deep, her knuckles brushing against Carla’s soaked heat.

Carla let out a sharp cry, hips jerking back against Lisa’s hand. “God, yes…”

Lisa began to move, her fingers curling just right with each thrust. The rhythm was steady, deep, purposeful — each motion coaxing a moan from Carla’s lips.

“You’re so tight around my fingers,” Lisa growled, “So fucking perfect.”

Carla rocked back to meet every thrust, her breaths turning ragged. “Don’t stop…”

Lisa didn’t. Her free hand gripped Carla’s hip to steady her as she added a third finger, stretching her slowly. Carla gasped — a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper — and Lisa paused just long enough to whisper, “Is this okay?”

Carla nodded quickly, desperate. “Please… I want all of you.”

Lisa thrust again, now with three fingers filling her, the rhythm intensifying as Carla’s body responded, trembling with pleasure. 

Lisa kept the pace steady but deep, her fingers plunging into Carla with precision, her thumb now circling her clit in perfect time. Carla’s body trembled beneath, her breath coming in broken gasps.

“Lisa… I’m—oh god—I’m so close,” she choked out, hips grinding desperately against Lisa’s hand.

Lisa leaned in, lips brushing against the back of Carla’s neck. “Come for me,” she whispered. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

That was all it took.

Carla’s body tensed, her back arching as a wave of pleasure surged through her. She cried out—loud, unrestrained—as her orgasm hit, pulsing around Lisa’s fingers. Her thighs shook, muscles tightening as she rode the high, clenching hard around every thrust.

Lisa didn’t stop, guiding her through every tremor, every shuddering breath, until Carla finally collapsed forward onto her forearms, utterly spent, her body still quivering from the aftershocks.

Lisa slowed her movements, easing her fingers out gently, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to the center of Carla’s back. “Beautiful,” she murmured, voice warm and low. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“I don’t think I can move,” Carla groaned, attempting to stand before flopping onto the bed. “My legs don’t work. How the hell am I supposed to drive home?”

Lisa chuckled and settled beside her, lazily tracing her fingers up Carla’s spine. “You could just spend the night,” she offered softly.

Carla glanced over her shoulder. “Was that in the rule book? I don’t remember us agreeing to sleepovers.”

Lisa smirked and leaned in to press a kiss to her shoulder. “We used to have sleepovers all the time—back before things got… sexual.”

Carla raised an eyebrow, amused.

“So really,” Lisa continued, “what’s the harm? I mean, I won’t be offended if you want to go home, but I’d like you to stay. And let’s be honest—you already admitted how needy you get after sex.”

“Okay, don’t go telling anyone I’m needy,” Carla said with a laugh. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I’m supposed to be a bitch—I can’t have people knowing I like a post-sex cuddle.”

Lisa grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me. So… film or just lie here and do absolutely nothing?”

Carla stretched with a sigh. “How about I run you a bath, grab some snacks and wine, and we watch something up here?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t running a bath something a girlfriend would do?”

Carla smirked. “Technically, I’m a girl. And I’m your friend. So it counts. Besides… after back-to-back, mind-blowing orgasms? I’d pretty much do anything for you.”

Lisa’s eyes lit up. “Anything?” she repeated before suddenly leaping off the bed and sprinting out of the room.

Carla blinked, then burst into laughter as she heard her footsteps pounding down the stairs. Shaking her head, she rolled over, pulled the blanket up, and settled in with a smile, waiting for Lisa to return.

Less than two minutes later, Lisa burst back into the room and launched herself onto the bed, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

“You know what’s coming,” she said mischievously.

Carla gave her a pointed look. “Me. Back to back. And yes, it was amazing. But no—it’s not happening again right now.”

“You said anything, come on! It’s only fair.”

“Lisa, they’re disgusting,” Carla replied, eyeing the jar in Lisa’s hands with suspicion.

Lisa popped open the lid, stabbed a pickled onion with a fork, and held it right in front of Carla’s face. “You. Said. Anything.”

Carla recoiled slightly, laughing. “I meant run you a bath, give you a back rub, pour you a glass of wine, maybe sit on your face—not in that order. I did not mean eat a bloody pickled onion. I still don’t get your obsession with them.”

“They’re delicious,” Lisa insisted. “And besides, I think I’m a bit like an onion.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “What—because you give people bad breath? I’ve gone down on you and trust me, you definitely don’t leave a nasty taste.”

Lisa burst out laughing. “No! I mean I’ve got layers. You know, like Shrek says—‘onions have layers, ogres have layers’… Well, in this case, Lisa has layers.”

Carla groaned, chuckling. “You are ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Lisa said proudly, still holding up the onion. “But you love it.”

“Fine,” Carla huffed, leaning forward reluctantly. “But you owe me. Once I’ve recovered, your head is going between my legs, and you’re going to make it up to me—with your tongue.”

Lisa grinned, holding out the fork. “Anything you want… if you eat the whole thing.”

Carla rolled her eyes before taking the fork and popping the onion into her mouth, she quickly chewed it before swallowing it and opening her mouth to show Lisa it was gone.

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” Lisa said, eyes sparkling. “So… how was it?”

Carla made a face. “Never give me one of those again. They’re absolutely disgusting.”

“They’re not that bad—you’re just being dramatic,” Lisa chuckled.

“Okay, then you try sushi next time and we’ll see who’s really the dramatic one,” Carla shot back.

Lisa shifted uncomfortably, a grimace crossing her face. “Ugh, these period cramps are brutal. I don’t know how I’m supposed to move.”

Carla immediately reached out, her hands warm as they settled gently on Lisa’s stomach. “Let me help,” she said softly, starting to rub slow, soothing circles.

Lisa let out a long sigh, closing her eyes. “You’re really spoiling me tonight.”

After a moment, Lisa opened her eyes and smiled softly. “Thank you, Carla… not just for this, but for helping out with Betsy, too. You’re a really good friend.”

“Of course. You know I’m always here.”

They settled closer, Carla wrapping an arm around Lisa as they lay back against the pillows. The warmth of the bed, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, and the easy comfort between them made everything else fade away. For Carla, being here—right now, with Lisa—felt exactly like where she was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

Lisa pressed the button for the lift and stood waiting. Just as the doors slid open and she stepped forward, she was abruptly shoved to the side by a woman on her phone — clearly in a hurry, and just as clearly oblivious to anyone around her.

Lisa turned, ready to snap — ready to call the woman out for being rude, impatient, and not looking where she was going. But the words caught in her throat the moment their eyes met.

She was speechless.

She stepped forward into the lift and turned slightly. The woman was now standing behind her. Lisa fully expected her to stay on the phone for the entire ride — but to her surprise, the woman ended the call just as the doors closed.

She stepped forward, pressed the button for floor three — the same as Lisa’s — and then, before stepping back, looked Lisa directly in the eye.

“I’m so sorry, DS Swain. I wasn’t watching where I was going — too caught up in that phone call.”

Lisa blinked, caught off guard. She had never seen this woman before in her life — so how did she know who she was?

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said, brow raised. “I don’t think I know your name, and yet you know mine.”

The woman smiled. “Everyone knows DS Swain — you’re practically a legend around here. I’m Bridget. Bridget Westfall, forensic psychologist.” She held out her hand.

Lisa gave a dry laugh, shaking it reluctantly. “A shrink. Great. Just what we need — another one of you in the building.”

Just as the lift passed floor two, there was a sudden jolt. The carriage shuddered, the lights flickered, and then it came to an abrupt halt — stuck between floors.

Lisa instinctively reached out to steady herself against the wall. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Bridget exhaled slowly, looking up at the unmoving panel. “Well. This is fun.”

Lisa pressed the emergency button. “Trapped in a lift with a shrink. My worst nightmare.”

Lisa sighed, slid down the wall of the lift, and sat on the floor. “And there’s no need for you to try and psychoanalyse me while we’re stuck in here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bridget said with a smirk. “Though I will say, if we have to be stuck in here, the company’s not half bad. I mean, it could be sweaty Steve or nose-breather Neil. You, DS Swain? Definitely the lesser of two evils.”

Lisa couldn’t help the faint curve of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Flattery won’t get you out of this lift any faster.”

Bridget glanced at the emergency panel, then picked up the lift phone and pressed the call button. After a few seconds, a crackling voice came through the speaker.

“Hello, this is building maintenance. We’re aware of the issue — engineers are on their way.”

“Any idea how long?” Bridget asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

There was a pause. “Could be an hour. Maybe two. We’ll aim to get you out as soon as possible.”

Bridget hung up and turned to Lisa, who was now resting her head back against the lift wall with a groan.

“Well,” Bridget said, sliding down to sit opposite her, “looks like you’re stuck with me for a while. Try not to look so thrilled.”

Lisa gave her a sideways glance. “An hour or two trapped in here with a shrink who thinks I’m the lesser of two evils? I’m practically honoured.”

Bridget grinned. “See? You’re warming to me already.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement behind it. “Don’t push your luck.”

Bridget leaned back against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Well, since we might be here a while, I’d say we should get comfortable. Unless you’d rather sit in awkward silence for the next hour.”

Lisa shrugged, arms crossed. “Silence doesn’t bother me.”

Bridget grinned. “I figured you’d say that. Still… awkward silences are better when they’re shared with someone interesting. Lucky me.”

Lisa gave her a sidelong glance. “Is that your subtle way of saying you’re trying to make conversation?”

“Maybe,” Bridget said lightly. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get a read on the infamous DS Swain. You’ve got a reputation, you know.”

Lisa arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess — moody, impatient, doesn’t play well with others?”

Bridget chuckled. “Something like that. But no one mentioned you were this entertaining when trapped in a lift.”

Lisa smirked. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ve known me five minutes.”

“True,” Bridget replied, her tone easy, “but I’m good at reading people. And I have a feeling you’re not nearly as scary as everyone makes out.”

Lisa gave a dry laugh. “Stick around long enough and you’ll see how wrong you are.”

Bridget smiled. “Challenge accepted.”

Lisa pulled out her phone and checked the time. They’d been stuck in the lift for what felt like forever — but in reality, it had only been five minutes.

“I really hope they get this sorted quickly,” she huffed.

Bridget glanced over, amused. “Why? Got somewhere better to be?”

“Well, yes — as it happens.”

Lisa wasn’t about to share that she was heading to her best friend’s for what promised to be mind-blowing sex. The last thing she needed was Bridget going full psychologist — telling her why friends with benefits never worked, or digging into her emotional availability. Blah, blah, blah.

So instead, she added simply, “Let’s just say I had plans that didn’t involve being trapped in a metal box with a stranger.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “Ouch. I’ll try not to take that personally.”

Lisa smirked. “Don’t. I’ve had worse company.”

Lisa checked her phone again with an irritated sigh. “Still only twelve minutes. Feels like an hour.”

Bridget smirked. “You keep checking that like there’s a girlfriend waiting for you on the other side of the building.”

Lisa let out a short laugh. “Nope. No girlfriend. I’m very much single.”

She was shagging her best friend at any given opportunity — but that wasn’t exactly something she planned on mentioning to Bridget.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, her tone light but laced with something a little more pointed. “Good to know.”

Just then, the lift jolted. The lights flickered again — and with a mechanical groan, the doors finally slid open.

Lisa stood, brushing herself off as Bridget got to her feet beside her. Before Lisa could step out, Bridget reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, offering it with a small, confident smile.

“If you ever want to spend time with me somewhere a little less claustrophobic… give me a call.”

Lisa took the card, eyebrows raised but a smirk tugging at her lips. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”

Bridget shrugged playfully. “We were stuck in a metal box that could have plummeted to the ground. I figured I had to make the most of it.”

Lisa shook her head, chuckling as she stepped out of the lift. “Psychologists.”

“Detectives,” Bridget replied, following her out.

Lisa watched as Bridget walked down the corridor, the sharp click of her heels echoing against the floor. Her hair swayed with each confident step, and despite herself, Lisa’s eyes drifted downward. Bridget’s legs were incredible — so incredible that, before she could stop herself, she pictured them wrapped around her head.

She exhaled quietly, almost amused. Sex with Carla had definitely awakened something in her. A year ago, she’d never have imagined looking at another woman like that, let alone thinking about one this way.

A few hours later, Lisa was lying in bed, Carla’s fingers gently tracing up and down her arm.

“So, how was your day?” Carla asked softly.

Lisa hesitated. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was for telling your friend-with-benefits that another woman had given you her number and made it very clear she wanted to see you again. Before their arrangement, Lisa wouldn’t have thought twice about mentioning Bridget. But now, things felt different. Even if this thing with Carla was purely physical—and they’d both agreed on that—Lisa was enjoying herself more than she’d expected. It hadn’t been long, just a few weeks, but she didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.

Still, they’d promised to be honest. No secrets.

“Well… I got stuck in a lift,” she said.

Carla immediately sat up, concern flashing across her face. “What? Were you okay? I know you get claustrophobic. Were you alone? How long were you in there?”

“I was fine,” Lisa reassured her. “I wasn’t alone. I was stuck with a forensic psychologist, which, honestly, I expected to be hell.”

“It wasn’t?” Carla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, no. She was…”

“Oh—it was a she? Was she hot?” Carla cut in, a teasing grin forming.

Lisa gave a half-smile. “I mean, I wasn’t really looking. I was more concerned about not plummeting to my death.”

Carla gave a short laugh, her fingers stilling on Lisa’s arm. “It’s okay if you thought she was hot. I mean, why wouldn’t you? You’ve got eyes.”

Lisa turned her head, studying her. “You sure?”

Carla shrugged, not quite meeting her gaze. “Yeah. We’re just… you know. This is casual. No strings.”

Lisa hesitated. “She gave me her number.”

Carla’s jaw tensed. “Right.”

“She made it pretty clear she wanted me to use it.”

A pause.

Carla forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So? Are you going to call her?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa admitted. “I wasn’t planning on it. I keep thinking about how much I don’t want… this… to stop.”

Carla looked away, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. “Lisa…”

“I mean it,” Lisa said, her voice firmer now. “I’m really enjoying this. Us.”

Carla let out a quiet breath, still not looking at her. “Yeah, well. Me too. But I wouldn’t want you to miss out on something real just because we’re shagging.”

Lisa blinked. “It’s more than just shagging, Carla.”

Carla turned back to her then, eyes hard but not unkind. “No, it’s not. That’s the whole point. That’s what we agreed.”

Lisa sat up slightly, resting on one elbow. “Just because I’m thinking about maybe going on a date with Bridget, it doesn’t mean this thing with you and me has to stop.”

Carla looked at her, uncertain. “You really think that can work?”

“I don’t see why not,” Lisa said gently. “It’s just a date. It’s not a big deal.”

Carla hesitated, her expression flickering between resistance and something softer. She exhaled slowly. “Okay… okay. We can keep doing what we’re doing. But if it goes past one date—or starts turning into something real—I want to know. Promise me you’ll tell me.”

Lisa gave a small smile. “You don’t have to worry about that. I probably won’t even call her.”

Carla nodded, but her eyes lingered on Lisa a moment longer, as if she was still trying to believe her. “Alright then.”

Lisa leaned back against the pillows, trying to sound relaxed. But inside, her thoughts were already unraveling the moment.

Carla was trying to play it cool, to act like this was fine—but Lisa could see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curled slightly into the sheet, like she was holding something in. And it wasn’t nothing. Lisa had known Carla long enough to read the quiet pauses, the way she avoided eye contact just a second too long.

She said it was just sex. She wanted it to be just sex. But Lisa was starting to wonder if Carla even believed that anymore. Because she wasn’t so sure she did either.

And if one coffee with Bridget could crack the surface like this… maybe things weren’t as simple as either of them had pretended.

Chapter Text

Carla stormed through the door and slammed it shut with a sharp crack. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured herself a generous glass. She slammed the glass down hard on the counter, the sharp sound punctuating the silence.

She muttered under her breath, her voice low and tangled with frustration and disbelief. “We’ve only been doing this for a few weeks… and she’s already met someone she wants to date.”

Carla shook her head, swirling the wine absently. “I should be happy for her. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To help Lisa get her confidence back. But… I didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the glass. “And I thought it would be her sleeping with someone, not actually dating them. This… this feels different.”

Unnoticed, Michelle sat quietly on the sofa, watching Carla unravel.

“What kind of stupid name is Bridget anyway,” Carla huffed, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Everything okay?”

“Shit—Chelle, I didn’t see you there.”

Michelle stood from the sofa, raising an eyebrow as she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. “Didn’t think you did. Friends with benefits not going quite as smoothly as you hoped?”

“Everything is going swimmingly, actually.” Carla leaned against the counter, swirling her wine. “Lisa met someone who wants to take her on a date. And I couldn’t be happier for her. Like I’ve said—countless times—all I want is for her to be happy. If a date with Bridget is what makes her smile, who am I to get in the way? I was her best friend before we started sleeping together, and I’ll still be that if—or when—it ends.”

Michelle sipped her wine, watching Carla closely. “And what if she gets into a relationship? With Bridget or someone else?”

Carla didn’t flinch. “Then nothing. I’m still her best mate. That doesn’t change. Just like I’m yours, whether you’re single or tangled up with whoever’s next on your list.”

“Slight difference,” Michelle said casually. “We’ve never had sex.”

Carla gave a dry laugh. “Exactly. The key word is sex, not feelings. That’s all this is. Just sex. Relationships? They don’t work. Not for me, not in the long run. And if Lisa ever looked at me as more than a mate—and if I felt the same—it’d crash and burn. I’d lose a friend and whatever this thing is. It’s not worth it.” She paused, lifting her glass again. “I mean… if I even felt like that about her.”

Michelle said nothing, her eyes sharp but unreadable.

Carla straightened up, forcing a smile. “So… I’m going to take this wine, go to my room, and get drunk enough to forget I ever said any of that out loud.”

“If you’re not bothered about Lisa going on a date, then why do you need to get drunk?” Michelle asked.

“Because I bloody want to, and last I checked, I’m an adult.” Carla snapped, grabbing the wine bottle and her glass before storming down the hall. She slammed her bedroom door behind her with a satisfying thud.

She knew Michelle was only trying to be a friend—always looking out for her, always trying to protect her—but right now, Carla didn’t want to be looked after. She wanted to drink, or scream, or throw something against a wall. What she wasn’t going to do was talk. No chance. That was a slippery slope into the mess she’d shoved into the back of her mind. A Pandora’s box, and she knew better than to lift the lid.

She sat on the edge of her bed, the wine bottle perched on the bedside table, glass in hand, her thoughts a tangled, relentless loop of things she refused to name.

Then came the knock.

“I’m not letting you spend the night sulking, drinking, or whatever else you’re doing in there,” Michelle called through the door. “Put on some jeans—we’re going out.”

Carla sighed, her head falling back against the wall. “Chelle, I’m quite happy in here, with my bottle of wine and zero company. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I’m not asking,” Michelle replied firmly. “I’ve arranged something—last minute, yes—but I genuinely think it’ll help. If nothing else, it’ll distract you. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Carla closed her eyes. She could already feel the fight draining out of her. Michelle wouldn’t back off. She never did. And if Carla didn’t cave now, she’d only end up being dragged out eventually anyway. At least this way, she could get it over with and maybe—just maybe—shut her brain up for a bit.

Carla sighed, taking one last slow sip of wine before placing the glass back on the bedside table with a reluctant clink. “Fine,” she muttered to herself, dragging herself off the bed. Michelle had that tone in her voice, the determined one, the one Carla had never won against, not even back when they were teenagers sneaking into clubs and Michelle insisted on dragging her to the front of the dancefloor.

Twenty minutes later, Carla stood outside a dull grey building that looked more like a disused warehouse than anything recreational. The large sign above the door read “Temper Tank: Manchester’s #1 Rage Room” in bold red letters. She raised an eyebrow.

Michelle beamed, arms folded smugly. “Told you this would be different.”

“Are you actually serious?” Carla asked, eyes narrowing at the sight of Maria, Sally, Jenny and Sarah already gathered by the door, suited up in safety goggles and overalls.

Sally turned to Carla with a wide grin. “Come on, we’re about to smash things with baseball bats! Tim’s been winding me up all week—at least this way I can take it out on inanimate objects instead of him.”

Maria chuckled as she adjusted her goggles. “Honestly, if I have to pick up one more pair of skiddy men’s boxers, I might actually lose it.”

Sarah chimed in, already bouncing on her heels with anticipation. “Come on, Carla—it’ll be fun. After that nightmare meeting with Mr. Reilly, you need this as much as we do. Whatever’s been driving us mad, we can unload it all in there.”

Carla sighed again, slower this time, letting the tension slide out of her shoulders as she pulled on the oversized blue boiler suit Michelle handed her. It was ridiculous. The whole idea was ridiculous. But she also kind of loved how serious they all looked about it.

The instructor gave a brief, overly enthusiastic safety talk, handed them weapons — everything from crowbars to sledgehammers — and then led them into a room filled with old office furniture, shattered TV screens, cracked ceramics, and piles of electronics begging to be reduced to rubble.

Once inside, the door shut behind them with a satisfying thunk.

Sally was the first to let loose, letting out a half-laugh, half-roar as she brought the bat crashing down on an old TV screen. “That’s for leaving your dirty dishes in the sink and expecting me to wash them!”

Jenny was up next, taking a hefty swing at an old desk chair. “This one’s for every punter who’s ever shouted at me!”

Carla hesitated at first, circling a broken photocopier like it had personally offended her. She picked up a wrench, felt the cool weight in her hand, and stared at the machine. Something coiled tightly in her chest. She thought of the decisions, the pressure, the mistakes, the guilt and the situation she had got herself into the one she wasn’t ready to name yet. And then, she struck.

The sound of metal meeting plastic echoed like thunder. And again. And again.

By the fifth blow, she was laughing — that low, rare laugh that made her eyes crease and startled even her. Michelle gave her a wink from across the room. “Told you it’d be better than sulking with a bottle of red.”

Carla wiped a bit of sweat from her brow and shook her head. “Yeah, alright. You win.”

Michelle sauntered up beside her, swinging her own hammer into the guts of a dismembered keyboard. “Always do, Carla. Always do.”

Carla glanced over to the corner where Sally was going to town on an old computer monitor, battering it with a baseball bat, smack after smack, plastic and wires flying everywhere.

“This is for every time Tim fell asleep during sex! For every bloody blowjob I gave him and got nothing back! And for every time he said, ‘Yes, love,’ when I asked him to do something—and then completely forgot!” Sally shouted, delivering one final blow that shattered the screen completely.

Maria burst out laughing. “Woah, Sal—I didn’t know you had that much rage. You give off Stepford Wife vibes, not full-on Rosemary West.”

“It’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch,” Michelle added, smirking.

“Quiet? Sally Metcalfe? Behave,” Carla said dryly, before slamming a hammer down onto an old phone.

The sharp crack of plastic splitting was oddly satisfying. She pushed all thoughts of Lisa—every complicated, messy feeling—into the background and focused instead on the immediate relief of destruction. Smashing things was proving far more therapeutic than sulking in her room with a bottle of wine. Not that she was ruling out returning to the wine later—but for now, she was present, distracted, and, if she was being honest, actually enjoying herself.

Sarah stood in front of an old vending machine, gripping a sledgehammer with both hands. She took a deep breath, then swung hard, the machine rattling with the impact.

“This is for every time Kit goes hot and cold on me—one minute we’re together, the next he ‘doesn’t know how he feels.’ Ugh, men!” she shouted, slamming the sledgehammer down again with even more force.

“Feeling better?” Michelle asked, bringing a hammer down hard on a battered old laptop.

“Well, I’m not feeling worse,” Carla replied dryly, before joining her. She swung at the laptop, then grabbed it with both hands and hurled it to the ground. It cracked on impact. Without hesitation, she stepped on it, over and over, until it shattered into pieces.

But as the final fragments broke beneath her boot, something inside her cracked too.

The room suddenly felt too small, the noise too loud, the walls too close.

Her throat tightened.

She turned sharply and walked out without a word, leaving the others behind, still caught up in the cathartic chaos.

Outside, the night air hit her. She sucked in a breath, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled out her phone. Scrolling to Lisa’s name, she hesitated for just a second—then pressed call and held the phone to her ear, pacing slightly as she waited for the blonde to answer.

“Carla, is everything okay?” 

Carla paused, heart thudding. She knew exactly what she wanted to say. Don’t go on the date. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend, and if this changes things, it’ll break me.

But when she opened her mouth, none of that came out.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she said instead, forcing a lightness into her tone. “Just wanted to say Michelle dragged me to a rage room, and honestly it’s brilliant. Even Sally’s letting loose. Maybe a bit too much, actually. If Tim’s body ever turns up, you’ll know where to start asking questions.” She let out a small chuckle, hoping it masked everything else underneath.

Lisa laughed. “Sally Metcalfe in a rage room. I wish I could see that. I was just about to call you, actually. I’ve agreed to go for a coffee with Bridget. Just coffee. No harm in that, right? She might turn out to be totally boring, and then that’s that.”

“Or she might not be… and you might hit it off,” Carla replied quietly. Then, before she could change her mind, she added, “Anyway, I’d better go. These TVs won’t smash themselves.”

She hung up before Lisa could say anything else, the screen going dark in her hand. She popped her phone back in her pocket, zipped up her boiler suit and headed back inside just in time to see Sally jumping up and down on a TV screen screaming into the void.

“Carla, I think you need to get a rage room installed at Underworld,” Sarah said, breathless from laughter.

Carla swung a hammer down on an old camera, the crunch oddly satisfying. “I’d go bankrupt in a day. Every time one of you had a row with your other halves, you’d be in there smashing up the place. No knickers would ever get made.”

She paused, then added with a smirk, “How about every three months, team-building trip to the rage room. My treat.”

“Perfect.” Sarah hurled a ceramic cup across the room, then smashed a plate to the floor and stomped it into jagged pieces.

Michelle appeared beside Carla, watching her closely. “Where did you go?”

Carla didn’t meet her eyes. “Just needed some air. Lisa’s… going on that date.”

Michelle didn’t respond with words. She simply handed Carla a plate. Carla hurled it at the wall, watching it explode into fragments. Another cup followed. Smash. Shatter. Release.

“Thank you for dragging me out,” Carla said quietly. “I really appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out.” Michelle gave her a small smile, warm but steady.

Maria suddenly appeared, grabbing the sledgehammer by Michelle’s feet. With a dramatic grunt, she brought it down hard on a DVD player.

“I was genuinely considering killing Gary and Kirk this morning,” she said. “So thank you for inviting me—you’ve bought them at least another 24 hours.”

The door creaked open and the instructor poked his head in. “Right, ladies that’s your lot.”

“Nooo, I’m not ready! I’ve got so much rage left!” Sally cried, clutching a broken bat like a lifeline.

“Come on, Sal,” Jenny laughed, looping her arm through Sally’s. “Let’s get you a cocktail. I hear nothing goes better with cathartic destruction than overpriced alcohol.”

Ten minutes later, they were out of their boiler suits and goggles, sipping cocktails in a cosy bar nearby. The mood was lighter—glasses clinking, laughter spilling out as the group took turns moaning about their partners.

Carla and Michelle sat slightly apart in the corner, quiet observers to the chaos.

Carla took a sip from her drink, eyes drifting to Sally at the centre of the group. The last person she’d ever want knowing about her and Lisa’s arrangement. Sally would go into full “ally mode”—probably remind Carla for the hundredth time about her daughter being LGBTQIA+, as if the “Sally is an Ally. Love is Love” mug she used for tea every day wasn’t enough of a daily reminder.

Michelle leaned in slightly. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.

Carla exhaled slowly. “Fine. Nothing another drink won’t fix.”

A tray of brightly coloured shots landed on the table with a theatrical clink, delivered by a grinning waiter.

“From the gentlemen at the bar,” he announced, placing the tray in the center of the table “they said you were the hottest women in here”

Maria grinned. “Well, they’re not wrong—it would be rude to refuse.”

Sarah already had a shot in hand. “Cheers to smashing up household appliances and bitching!”

As everyone reached for a glass, Carla just sat back.

Michelle, already halfway to picking hers up, gave Carla a side-eye. “You’re not having one?”

Carla didn’t answer. She just gave a tiny shake of her head, folding her arms.

She reached over, grabbed Carla’s untouched shot, and knocked it back in one go. “More for me.”

“I’ll take Carla’s too!” Sally chimed in, already halfway to tipsy. “I’m having such a good time—I needed this! Honestly, feels like years since I got properly smashed and emotionally cleansed.”

“Bit like therapy but with broken crockery,” Maria said, raising her glass.

Then Sally leaned in, voice loud and proud. “You know what else is cleansing? Telling the truth. Like, I’ve never said this out loud before but… me and Tim once had sex on Carla’s desk.”

There was a split-second of stunned silence, then Maria nearly choked on her drink.

“Sally!” Sarah shrieked. “The desk? Her actual office desk?”

“Middle of the day,” Sally confirmed, holding her hands up innocently. “You were all out, I was feeling frisky, and Tim had that aftershave on that makes me go all funny. One thing led to another…”

Carla blinked. “You… what?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs Connor—I wiped it down after. I used the antibacterial wipes. The lemon-scented ones!”

“Oh well, that’s alright then,” Carla deadpanned, reaching for Michelle’s empty shot glass and pretending to toast with it. “Here’s to never using that desk again.”

Michelle was laughing so hard she had to lean on Carla for support.

“You alright?” Carla muttered through gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah,” Michelle grinned. “Just picturing you burning that desk in the ginnel behind the factory on Monday morning.”

“I’ll help,” Sarah added “we can toast Marshmallows as we toast the end of Sally Metcalfe working at Underworld”

“Oi!” Sally huffed. “You’re all just jealous you’ve not christened any office furniture!”

“I’d rather not be haunted by the image of Tim’s bare arse on my spread sheets, thanks,” Carla muttered.

Laughter burst around the table again, drinks were raised, and for the first time in a while, Carla let herself lean back and smile—for real this time.

A few hours later, Carla and Michelle stumbled through the front door, laughing under their breath like teenagers sneaking back after curfew. They collapsed onto the sofa, limbs heavy and eyes glassy from one too many cocktails.

“Who knew Sally Metcalfe had it in her?” Michelle chuckled, rubbing her forehead.

“I’d rather not think about what Sally Metcalfe had in her on my bleeding desk, thanks,” Carla muttered, grimacing.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never had sex on it,” Michelle said, shooting her a sideways glance.

“No. Almost had Lisa under it the other day, but never on it,” Carla replied with a smirk. “But it’s my desk—if I want to have sex on it, I bloody will. Maybe I should invite Lisa to christen it properly. At least then I wouldn’t picture Tim and Sally defiling it every time I sat down.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go do that right now?” Michelle grinned, dragging herself to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Carla asked.

“To lie down and pray the ceiling stops spinning,” Michelle mumbled, wobbling slightly as she headed down the hall.

“Lightweight,” Carla called after her.

“Not a lightweight—I drank every single one of those shots that guy kept sending you,” Michelle shot back from the hallway.

Fair enough.

Carla hadn’t touched a single one. Not since the Stephen Reid spiking fiasco. If she didn’t see it poured, she didn’t drink it. Simple. Michelle had stepped in like a trooper, knocking back shot after shot while Carla politely declined every round with a smile and a nod.

A couple of years ago, that kind of guy might’ve been exactly her type for the night. Someone to flirt with, distract herself with, maybe even wake up regretting. But not anymore.

Now there was only one person she wanted—5ft 3, blonde, a police badge in her pocket and a smile that stopped Carla in her tracks every time she saw it. Boobs to die for. And a way of looking at her that made it hard to breathe. But it was just sex, that's what she kept telling herself, nothing more than sex.

With Michelle out for the count, Carla figured she’d check on her. She tiptoed to the spare room, pushed the door open, and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Michelle was sprawled half-on, half-off the bed, one leg still stuck in her jeans and her top halfway over her head, arms tangled like she’d passed out mid-change.

Carla considered helping her out of it, but decided to let her be. Any attempt would probably end with both of them in a heap on the floor.

Back in her own room, Carla lay on the bed and stared at her phone. Usually, Lisa would be the first person she called after a night like this. But tonight, something stopped her.

She wasn’t even sure what. The words she’d normally say didn’t feel right anymore. Maybe it was because things weren’t normal between them. Not really. Not with the way she felt.

Before she could overthink it any more, her phone lit up.

Carla watched it ring.

And ring.

And end.

Then it rang again. And again.

She didn’t answer. Just sat there, phone in her hand, heart tight in her chest.

Then a message came through.

Lisa: Are you okay?

Carla didn’t reply. Not right away. She just stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. Her phone buzzed again.

Lisa: Carla, I’m really worried. Can you just let me know you got home okay? Or I’ll send Kit round to check.

That did it.

Carla sighed, dragged a hand down her face, and picked up the phone. She typed a reply, then deleted it. Tried again. Deleted that too. Third time, she settled on something that felt… neutral enough.

Carla: I’m fine. Was in the toilet throwing up—one too many shots. Group of lads kept sending them over. How’s your night been?

The reply came quickly.

Lisa: That’s not like you. You don’t take drinks from strangers. You sure you’re okay?

Carla exhaled, her jaw tightening. She hated how well Lisa knew her. Knew her patterns. Knew when she was lying.

Carla: It wasn’t just me. The shots were for the table. I’m good. Promise.

Lisa: You sure? You seemed a bit off earlier.

Carla: I'm fine, a little bit overly refreshed and tired so I'm going to get some sleep

Lisa: Only if you're sure, night Carla x

Carla: Positive. Night Lisa x

Carla placed her phone on the bedside table and lay staring at the ceiling. Lisa was going on a date. Lisa was going to spend time with another woman—someone who wasn’t her. What if Lisa enjoyed Bridget’s company so much that she left Carla behind? With Michelle heading back to Ireland soon, she would be all alone again. Lisa would be off enjoying time with her new girlfriend. Girlfriend. The word sat heavy in her chest. Carla wasn’t sure why it made her feel nauseous, but she chalked it up to the alcohol rather than anything else.

Chapter Text

Coffee — that’s all it was supposed to be. But coffee had quickly turned into dinner, which had now turned into drinks. It wasn’t the longest date in lesbian history; she knew plenty of lesbians whose first dates had lasted a weekend, sometimes longer. Still, she hadn’t expected her date to go like this. She expected coffee — an hour, tops and then she’d head to see Carla and get grilled about how it went.

But now she was sitting in a quiet little booth in a tucked-away bar on the edge of town — with Bridget. Bridget, who was currently running her fingers slowly up Lisa’s thigh.

“So come on then,” she said, smiling. “You’ve got to tell me why you changed your mind. I mean, when you texted me to say you weren’t going to call or text, I was surprised. I’ve never had someone reach out just to tell me they didn’t want to date me and then, an hour later, ask me out for coffee.”

“Long story short, my wife died three years ago,” Lisa said, fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, “and since then, I’ve been pretty against the idea of getting into anything serious. I’ve been… happy enough on my own. But my best friend kept pushing me to ‘get back out there.’ Said a date wouldn’t kill me. So, here we are.”

“So I’ve got your best friend to thank for this, then?” Bridget asked with a smile.

“In a way, yeah,” Lisa replied, keeping her tone light — but not going any further. No way was she going to explain that part. No one needed to know about the arrangement she and Carla had been keeping under wraps. They’d done a good job of keeping it quiet — blurred lines, closed doors, no questions asked.

A few easy minutes passed. Then, without warning, Bridget turned in her seat. Her hands cupped Lisa’s face gently, and she leaned in to kiss her. Soft, exploratory.

Lisa didn’t pull away. Not at first.

But the moment was cut short by the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating across the table. She pulled back, half-smiling in apology, and picked up the call without checking the screen. Only one person called this late without a text first.

“Carla, everything okay?” Lisa asked.

“Yes, of course. I’m just home… alone… and bored. Thought maybe you’d want to come over and keep me company, and by company, I mean have sex.”

Lisa closed her eyes. Of course. Carla couldn’t have picked any other moment. It had to be now. She glanced across the table. Bridget was sipping her drink, unaware.

“Carla,” Lisa said, standing up and walking a few steps away from the table, “as much as I would love that, I’m a bit busy.”

The phone buzzed again before Carla even responded. Lisa lowered it to check the message. Her breath hitched.

It was Carla. Naked. Her body was decorated in strategic swirls of whipped cream.

Lisa blinked, slowly. Fuck.

She brought the phone back to her ear.

“So,” Carla purred, “finish whatever you’re doing and get over here. Lick me clean.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but froze as she felt arms wrap around her waist. Bridget. A kiss brushed the side of her neck.

“I know it’s soon,” Bridget murmured, “but… do you fancy getting out of here?”

Lisa was now stuck between a poised, warm, open woman who liked her — and a naked Carla covered in cream, who was making it extremely hard to say no. She knew what she wanted to do. And she knew what she should do. Which, frankly, was head home for a cold shower.

She cleared her throat and put the phone back up to her ear.

“Carla, I’m going to have to call you back.”

 “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes. Just… give me five minutes. Ten, at most.”

There was silence. Then a sharp breath.

“Don’t bother,” Carla snapped. “Whatever you’re doing is clearly more important than me.”

And then, the line went dead.

Lisa stared at her phone, jaw tightening.

She knew she’d just fucked up.

She hadn’t meant for things to get this complicated. She certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy her date with Bridget this much. And now Carla was angry — jealous, even. Which made no sense, because this was never supposed to mean anything.

Lisa slipped her phone back into her pocket, jaw clenched tight. She turned back toward Bridget with a composed smile, masking the tangle of guilt and confusion still churning under the surface.

“Everything alright?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah,” Lisa replied. “Just a bit of a needy friend moment.”

Bridget didn’t press and Lisa appreciated that more than she could say. The air outside the bar was cooler than she expected, carrying the faint buzz of city nightlife — laughter, distant music, car horns. They turned down a quieter street, away from the crowd.

As they passed a narrow alley, Bridget tugged gently on Lisa’s hand, pulling her into the shadows with a playful grin.

“Come here.”

Before Lisa could speak, Bridget pushed her gently against the brick wall, lips capturing hers in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was hungry, all heat and pressure, mouths parting, tongues meeting like they’d been waiting all night for this. Lisa’s hands slid to Bridget’s hips, holding her there as the kiss deepened.

Then she felt fingers at the waistband of her jeans. The top button popped. The next began to slide free.

Lisa gasped, pulling back slightly, forehead resting against Bridget’s.

“I’d love to have sex with you,” she said, breathless. “God, really love to. But…”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, still pressed close. “But?”

Lisa smiled faintly, her hands still on Bridget’s waist. “I’m a bit old-fashioned. First time with someone — I prefer a bed. Something a bit more comfortable than a grimy alley wall.”

Bridget laughed softly, her breath warm against Lisa’s cheek. “You sure know how to kill a mood.”

“I’m trying to do the opposite,” Lisa murmured. “I just want to… take my time. If that’s okay.”

Bridget didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned in again, slower this time. She kissed Lisa with a different kind of intensity — one that didn’t rush, one that promised more.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Rain check. But don’t wait too long, or I might change my mind.”

Lisa chuckled, then let her head fall back against the wall, eyes closed for a moment. The kiss lingered on her lips. So did the image of Carla.

They walked slowly back toward the main road, neither of them saying much. The kiss still lingered between them, heavy in the quiet. Bridget bumped Lisa’s shoulder gently with hers.

“Well,” she said, stopping near the curb, “I’d say that went pretty well. Even with your needy friend’s… interesting timing.”

Lisa let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Bridget shrugged. “No big deal. I get it. Life’s messy.”

Lisa nodded, grateful that Bridget wasn’t pushing for more than she could give. Not tonight.

They lingered for a moment, caught in that in-between space where a date should end cleanly but never really does.

“Good night, Lisa.”

“Good night, Bridget.”

Bridget leaned in, kissed her cheek softly, then turned and walked off down the street.

Lisa watched her go, hands stuffed deep in her coat pockets. She should’ve felt excited. She liked Bridget, she really did. But instead of butterflies, there was a knot in her stomach. And she knew exactly why.

By the time she stepped through her front door and kicked off her boots, the buzz of the evening had dulled into something else — a restless hum in her chest. She didn’t even bother turning the lights on.

She pulled out her phone, hesitated for a minute, then opened her messages.

Lisa: We need to talk.

She stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the “send” button for longer than she should have. She finally pressed send and tossed the phone on the couch. She rubbed her hands over her face, and sat in the quiet dark, knowing that the message might open a door she wouldn’t be able to close again.

Chapter Text

Carla sat at the table, wine glass in hand, her eyes fixed anywhere but on the blonde across from her. The candlelight flickered between them, catching the rim of her glass, but she didn’t look up. Of course Michelle had insisted on a family dinner for Ryan’s birthday—right when she and Lisa could barely look at each other, let alone speak. The timing was cruel, whether intentional or not.

Things had been tense ever since Lisa turned her down. That would’ve been enough on its own, but then came the text—we need to talk. A vague, infuriating, unfinished sentence that dangled in Carla’s mind. And now, three days later, the talk still hadn’t happened. No explanations. No apologies. Just silence… and this brittle, unbearable awkwardness.

At best, things were frosty. At worst, they were broken.

“Carla, can you pass me the bread, please?” Lisa asked.

Carla didn’t answer. She reached for the bread bowl and slid it across the table without a glance. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan, Michelle, and Betsy exchanging awkward glances and half-shrugs, all of them clearly wondering what the hell was going on between the two of them.

Carla topped up her wine, her movements just shy of defiant. Did she need another glass? Probably not. But if Lisa was going to shoot her that judgmental look—the one that said pull yourself together, then she might as well earn it.

“So, Michelle,” Lisa said, reaching for a bread roll and spreading butter across it with slow precision, “are you looking forward to going back to Dublin tomorrow?”

Michelle hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “Honestly, no. I mean… we all know why I left. I’d hoped things had calmed down a bit, but a few of my staff have told me she’s been hanging around the restaurant again. Just… waiting for me.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve called the police a few times, but she’s not technically doing anything wrong.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Carla said, her brow furrowing.

Michelle gave her a look, soft, almost apologetic. “You’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.”

Carla glanced toward Lisa, whose face remained unreadable.

Michelle continued, her voice gentle. “But I’ll be fine. I’m a grown woman. I made some mistakes, and now I have to face them. It’s part of the deal, isn’t it?” She smiled and reached for her wine. “Besides, tonight isn’t about me. It’s about this strapping young man, the one who made me a mother.”

“Well, technically—” Ryan started.

“No technicallys about it,” Michelle cut in firmly, but with affection.

The table chuckled lightly. For a moment, it almost felt normal again.

But by the time the mains arrived, Carla was on her fourth glass. Her tongue was looser now, her smile wider—too wide. Michelle leaned over, her voice low but warm. “You alright, love? You’re knocking it back a bit… even by your standards.”

“I’m fine. We’re celebrating,” Carla said, lifting her glass.

“Carla, keep your voice down before we get kicked out,” Lisa muttered under her breath.

“We’re hardly going to get kicked out for talking a little too loudly.”

“A little? Is that what you’re calling it?” Betsy snorted.

Carla ignored them and knocked back the rest of her glass. “I think we need to do some birthday shots!” she sang, half-rising from her seat and waving toward the server.

Michelle glanced toward Lisa with a knowing look. Lisa returned it, then stood abruptly, pushing her chair back with a scrape. She walked around the table, leaned down beside Carla, and whispered close to her ear, quiet, but firm.

“I think you’ve had enough. Come on. Let’s get you home. Let’s not spoil Ryan’s birthday.”

Carla jerked her head away. “I’m perfectly fine here,” she snapped.

But they both knew she wasn’t. The room had begun to spin, just slightly, and her stomach was starting to churn. She should go home. She knew it. Crawl into bed, let the wine wear off, and face the wreckage in the morning.

But not with Lisa. Not now. Not like this.

“Carla, come on. Please,” Lisa said, voice softer now. 

Carla sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I don’t need a babysitter,” she muttered as she shoved her chair back.

Too hard.

The legs scraped violently against the floor and shot backward. Her body stayed where it was for a second too long, then slumped sideways and hit the floor with a dull, graceless thud.

“Carla, are you okay?” Betsy asked.

Carla groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “That’s gonna leave a bruise,” she mumbled from the ground.

Lisa rubbed her forehead and turned to Betsy. “Bets, why don’t you stay here with Michelle and Ryan? I’ll come back for you once I’ve got her sorted.”

Michelle stood halfway up. “We can drive her back once we’re done here. No point in you making a second trip.”

“You sure?” Lisa asked, already crouching to help Carla up.

“Of course,” Michelle said gently, helping to steady Carla’s other side. “You’ve got more important things to deal with.”

Lisa nodded her thanks as she wrapped an arm firmly around Carla’s waist, lifting her with practiced ease.

“Thanks,” Lisa muttered, exhaling as Carla leaned heavily against her. “Hopefully she’s not too much trouble getting to the car… and into the flat.”

Carla hated this. She shouldn’t be sent away like a naughty child. She’d been enjoying herself—granted, maybe a little too much. Sure, she was getting a bit rowdy and had probably started to ruin Ryan’s birthday dinner… but this was Lisa’s fault.

Who texts “we need to talk” and then never follows through?

Mumbling an apology to Ryan, Carla let Lisa lead her out of the restaurant and into the car. She slumped into the passenger seat, arms crossed, and stared straight ahead as Lisa settled behind the wheel.

The drive to the flat was silent. Uncomfortably so. And Carla hated it.

This—this—was exactly what she’d been afraid of. She was losing her best friend, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She didn’t want to lose Lisa. Not like this.

She could feel the tears building, pressure behind her eyes threatening to spill. Turning her head, she stared out the window, blinking fast. She wouldn’t let Lisa see. She couldn’t let Lisa see.

It wasn’t long before they were parked outside the flat. Lisa cut the engine, stepped out, and rounded the car to open Carla’s door.

“I don’t need help,” Carla snapped, swatting Lisa’s hand away as she stumbled out of the car. “I’m home. You can go now.”

“Carla, I’m not leaving. Not until we talk. This isn’t like you.”

Carla bit down on the inside of her cheek. Lisa wasn’t going to give up, not without a fight. She never did.

She jammed the key into the front door of the building, shoved it open, and stormed up the stairs without another word. Lisa followed in silence. Inside the flat, Carla headed straight for the kitchen, grabbed an unopened bottle of wine from the counter, and yanked it open with more force than necessary.

Behind her, Lisa sighed and lowered herself onto the sofa. “I don’t really think you need more wine.”

Carla poured herself a glass anyway, ignoring the tremble in her hand. “Just say it,” she snapped. “We both know what you wanted to talk about. So just get it over with so you can leave, and I can drink my wine in peace.”

“Carla, come and sit. Please.”

“What exactly is sitting down going to do? Is it going to change anything? If you don’t have the guts to say it, then I will.” She turned, wine glass clutched in one hand, her voice cracking as her anger flared. “This—whatever this was—our little friends-with-benefits arrangement? It’s done. It served its purpose. You found someone you actually want to date, someone who wants you back, and obviously you can’t fully commit to her if you’re still crawling into my bed every night.”

She took a shaky sip. “I get it. I even respect it. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.”

Lisa looked down at her hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. We shouldn’t have started this. We were naive to think it wouldn’t change us… that one of us wouldn’t catch feelings. It was messy. Stupid.”

“Feelings?” Carla let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t make me laugh. This has fuck all to do with feelings. I don’t have feelings for you. And I know you don’t have any for me. That was the deal. It was just sex.” She stepped closer, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “But I don’t want to lose you as my friend. And we both know things will change—have to change. You’ll get a girlfriend, and she’ll wonder why you still spend so much goddamn time with me. And if she ever finds out we’ve slept together?”

She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “You can say bye-bye, Carla.”

Lisa exhaled hard. “You don’t give me much credit if you think I’d walk away from our friendship like that.”

Carla shook her head, stepped forward—closer, her breath quickening. “I don’t want to think about that right now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you to fuck me.”

Lisa froze.

Carla crossed the remaining space between them and climbed into her lap, straddling her thighs. Her hands moved to Lisa’s shirt, unsteady fingers working at the buttons.

“If we’re done, then fuck me. If this thing between us is really over, don’t walk out that door without giving me that one last time. Let me touch you.”

Lisa caught Carla’s hands gently, stopping her. “Carla… don’t. Not like this. You’re drunk.”

“So?” Carla’s voice cracked. “We were drunk the first time. What’s different now?”

Lisa looked up at her, eyes steady, voice firm. “The difference is, I’m stone cold sober. And you’re not. I’m not going to touch you when you’re like this.”

“Come on. Please, Lisa.” Carla leaned in closer, desperate now, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take me to bed. Fuck me. Don’t let it end without giving me one more night.”

Carla knew how pathetic she sounded. How needy she must look. But she didn’t care. She wanted Lisa—needed her. Not for love. Not even for comfort. Just to feel close, one last time. To have something to hold on to before it all slipped away.

But Lisa didn’t move. Her hands remained on Carla’s wrists, gentle but unmoving. Her gaze didn’t waver.

Lisa’s hands came down over Carla’s, stopping her from unbuttoning the shirt.

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

Carla stilled, her expression going hard in a blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not doing this anymore,” Lisa said. “We can't do this anymore.”

Carla pulled back like she’d been burned, sliding off Lisa’s lap. “Right. Of course not. You’ve made your decision.” She stalked toward the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine, and poured herself a glass.

Lisa stood, but didn’t move after her. “Carla, come on. Don’t do this.”

“Do what, Lisa?” she shot back. “Don’t throw myself at you? Don’t embarrass myself? I invented this, remember? This whole casual thing, it was my idea. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”

“I didn’t,” Lisa said carefully. “But now I do.”

Carla spun around, wine glass in hand. “Because you want to date someone. Right. Got it.”

Lisa frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Say what we both know is happening?” Carla laughed dryly. “You want out so you can date someone with a clean conscience. So go. You don’t need to sit here pretending to care.”

“I’m not pretending,” Lisa snapped. “I do care — about you. About us. That’s exactly why I’m ending this before it gets worse.”

“Before what gets worse?” Carla shouted. “You mean before I stop playing it cool and actually feel something? Is that what you were worried about?”

Lisa’s mouth opened, then closed. “No. That’s not—this isn’t about feelings.”

“Exactly!” Carla said, voice sharp. “It wasn’t supposed to be. That was the deal. No feelings, no complications, no consequences. Just sex, and we move on like always.”

“And look where that got us,” Lisa muttered.

“Oh, fuck off,” Carla snapped. “Don’t you dare pin this on me like I broke the friendship. You knew exactly what this was. You wanted it just as much as I did.”

“I did, Carla. But I’m not going to keep doing it when I know it’s costing us something way more important.”

“Like what? Your dating life?”

Lisa took a slow breath, her voice tight. “Like our friendship.”

Carla stared at her, jaw clenched. “Then you should’ve said no when I first suggested it.”

“I didn’t know it would end like this!”

Carla laughed bitterly, pacing. “Well, now you know. So go. If we’re done, just leave.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Why not? You don’t want to sleep with me. You don’t want to be around me. You've spent the last three days avoiding me. So what the fuck do you want from me, Lisa?”

“I want you to stop pretending like you’re fine with this!” Lisa shouted. “Like you’re totally unaffected. Like this doesn’t matter to you at all.”

Carla’s voice dropped, icy and low. “You think I care about the sex? I don’t. But you? Sitting there acting like this is some noble, mature decision while you leave me behind like a mistake you can’t afford anymore? Yeah. That pisses me off.”

Lisa didn’t respond. Her jaw worked, fists clenched at her sides.

Carla stepped back, breath shaking. “Just leave. Go find Bridget. Go build your little perfect life without me fucking it up.”

“I’m not walking out on you.”

“Then congratulations,” Carla muttered, finishing her wine in one long swallow. “You’re officially making this worse.”

“Carla, please. Just sit down and talk to me properly. You’re not going to lose me.”

Lisa’s voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t waver.

“We can fix this. We can go back to what we were before… just friends. No benefits, no blurred lines. It will work. It has to.”

Carla’s expression didn’t soften. She stood her ground, arms crossed, jaw tight. But Lisa kept going.

“You’re still the most important person in my life. That hasn’t changed. The benefits part, yeah—it’s done. But we’re still us. I’m still your friend, and I’m not walking away. Not over this.”

“Okay, well if you’re not walking away, then I am. Sleep on the sofa for all I care, but I’m going to bed. There’s no point in dragging this out. You think we can go back to being friends, I don’t. Right now, all I want to do is sleep.”

Lisa stepped forward, her voice lower, more desperate.

“Does that mean you’ll at least think about it? About going back? Please, Carla. Don’t give up on us.”

Carla stopped just before she reached her bedroom door and turned.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

She turned away again, pushed the door open, and disappeared inside. Within seconds, she was on the bed, tears spilling silently. That quiet, aching kind of sob, the kind you keep to yourself because you don’t want anyone to hear.

She didn’t want Lisa to know how much this had shaken her.

She was glad their arrangement had helped Lisa find her confidence again, really, she was. But at what cost?

To Carla, the price felt like their entire friendship. And she couldn’t see a way back to how things used to be. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. Losing Lisa, even just for three days, had already been unbearable.

And now she wasn’t sure if she’d ever really get her back.

Chapter Text

Lisa rolled over, opened one eye, and was instantly reminded of where she was and what had happened the night before. She wished it had all been a dream, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t. No amount of wishful thinking could change the truth. She and Carla were done with their arrangement. As for their friendship, she had no idea where they stood now.

She didn’t want to see Carla. Not yet. They needed space. That seemed like the most logical thing, at least for now.

Sitting up, Lisa looked around the living room, then toward the kitchen, where she heard the kettle boiling and the toaster pop.

“Morning,” Michelle said, buttering her toast. “Coffee?”

“I probably shouldn’t. I should head off before—”

“It’s fine. She’s still asleep. She was supposed to drive me to the airport in an hour, but I can’t imagine her being in any shape to get behind the wheel. Ryan’s working, so I’m stuck calling a taxi and hoping it’s not Steve,” Michelle said with a half-smile.

“My car’s here. I can drive you,” Lisa offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Michelle replied.

“You didn’t. I offered. Honestly, I could really use someone to talk to, and you’re probably the best person for that. You know Carla better than she knows herself.”

“I mean, I thought I did,” Michelle said, raising an eyebrow. “But then I found out she was sleeping with you, and… well, that surprised me.”

“Why? Because I'm a woman?”

“No, because you’re a copper. I always thought Carla was a little… fruity. Back in school she was obsessed with this girl, Jodie—followed her around constantly. When I asked about it, she told me I was being ridiculous. Then, out of nowhere, they stopped speaking. Carla never told me why. I always wondered if maybe she made a pass at Jodie or something, and Jodie just wasn’t that way inclined.”

“I mean, wouldn’t she have told you?”

“It was around the time I was knee-deep in dirty nappies, so… probably not. I’m not even sure anything happened between her and Jodie, but the timing was odd. Then there was Susie, a friend from LA. I doubt anything happened there either, but I always felt Carla liked her as more than a friend—the way she spoke about her made it seem that way.”

Lisa stayed quiet, leaning against the breakfast bar with her coffee. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted to Carla’s closed door. She wouldn’t know what to say if she saw her—what can you say after your best friend tells you to fuck her one last time because you’ve decided to date someone and end your friends-with-benefits arrangement? It was an impossible situation. She hated that it had come to this, but they had no one to blame but themselves. How could they have thought this wouldn’t blow up in their faces?

Michelle leaned on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Lisa replied.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how I feel. But let’s not talk about it here. How about you finish packing and getting ready, and I’ll wait in the car? It’s probably safer there.”

Lisa drained the last of her coffee, grabbed her phone and keys, and pulled on her boots. She left the flat and slid into the driver’s seat.

Only then did she check her phone. A message from Carla—sent an hour ago. Lisa stared at it. Should she read it now or wait until after she’d dropped Michelle off? Her finger hovered over the little message icon.

Before she could open the message, the car boot popped open. Michelle tossed in her suitcase, then slid into the passenger seat. Buckling her seat belt, she turned to Lisa.

“Thank you for this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Lisa replied, turning the key. The engine roared to life. As she pulled away, her phone buzzed once… then again… and then a third time.

“Do you want me to?” Michelle asked.

“It’s okay, it’s probably just Betsy checking in. Was she okay after I left last night?”

“We both know Betsy isn’t going to be up this early. So what’s the bet those messages—oh, and that one too—are all from Carla?” Michelle said.

Lisa kept her eyes on the road, saying nothing. Michelle was probably right. But Lisa didn’t want to open the messages. She didn’t want to read what Carla had to say—because, truthfully, she had no idea how to respond.

They sat in silence, the hum of the road filling the space between them. Still, Lisa could feel Michelle’s gaze resting on her. It wasn’t accusing, not even probing, just steady and curious. Lisa wanted to say something, to open the door to a conversation, but hesitation held her back. They didn’t really know each other well enough for confessions. Yet Michelle was, in her own way, the one person who understood Carla better than anyone. That alone made Lisa feel exposed.

“What happened last night?” Michelle asked after a minute. “You know, after you got her back home?”

Lisa tightened her grip on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Long story short, we rowed. I told her I’d decided to pursue something with Bridget, so our arrangement would have to come to an end. Better now than further down the line, when it would get even more complicated and feelings were involved.”

Michelle tilted her head, not letting her off so easily. “Can I stop you there? Are you sure feelings aren’t already involved? I mean, you went on a date, and Carla practically inhaled every drop of alcohol she could get her hands on.”

Lisa exhaled, the sound closer to a weary laugh than anything else. “No. I mean… her reaction was because she’s worried about me leaving her for Bridget, about losing me as a friend. If Bridget finds out we’ve slept together, things could get awkward, and Carla’s afraid our friendship would have to end. I’m not even sure that’s a problem anymore. Honestly, I think that ship has already sailed—and sunk.” She let the words hang in the air, her voice breaking just enough to betray the ache beneath them.

Michelle stayed quiet, watching her closely, but didn’t press further.

Lisa’s phone buzzed against the console, shattering the silence. She glanced at it, jaw tightening. This was the fifth message since she had gotten into the car. She didn’t need to look to know who it was from. And she didn’t want to.

“Well, what about you?” Michelle asked.

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about this ending?”

Lisa didn’t know how to answer because she didn’t know how she felt.

“I mean, it’s been fun. I’m not going to lie, the sex with Carla was incredible. But it served its purpose. It gave me the confidence I needed. Who knows if it will work out with Bridget, or if she’s just a stepping stone to something else. For the first time in years, though, I’m actually ready to find out. And Carla did that for me. She helped me.

“Maybe it should have been a one-time thing. Maybe we should never have started the friends-with-benefits arrangement. But we did, and I can’t change that. I can only hope our friendship is strong enough to move past it. Carla is the most important person in my life besides Betsy, and I don’t want to lose her over this.

I don’t want her to feel like I used her, like now that she’s served her purpose I’m done with her. I never wanted it to end the way it did. I wanted us to go out with a bang—one amazing night, then close the door on that part of our relationship and move forward. But now there’s no chance of that happening.”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know whether calling it off the way you did is better—maybe it’s cleaner—but it was surrounded by pain and hurt, and that’s not what either of you wanted when this started. I’m not going to tell you what to do, because if it goes wrong I’ll be the one you blame. But maybe once you’ve dropped me off, you should go and talk to her. Really talk to her, while she’s sober and not angry. Then you can decide whether you leave things the way they ended last night, or if you both want to end it on a high and then go back to being friends. But I don’t think you can go back to being friends the way you were before, and I think you both need to accept that,” Michelle said.

Lisa knew she was right. Of course she did. This whole thing had messed everything up. Still, she hadn’t known the last time they had sex would actually be the last time, and her period had derailed her from fully enjoying it. Could they really put their feelings aside for one final night together, or would that only make things worse?

It wasn’t long before they reached the airport. Michelle unbuckled her seat belt and turned to Lisa.

“Carla is the most important person to me besides Ryan. So whatever you decide, make sure she’s fully on board, because I won’t be here to pick up the pieces if it goes to shit. I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, but you need to be sure you’re both on the same page. Otherwise nights like last night will keep happening, and eventually you’ll go too far to ever get back to what you had.”

“Thank you, Michelle. And no, it was never my intention to hurt Carla—that was the last thing I ever wanted. If I can stop it from happening again, I’ll do whatever is best for her. I hope you have a safe flight, and that things get sorted out with your crazy stalker. Please make sure you call the police anytime she shows up. Better safe than sorry.”

Michelle leaned across the seat and hugged her. “Thank you, Lisa. I’m glad Carla has you.”

Lisa wished she could say the same, but she wasn’t sure if having her in Carla’s life was doing more harm than good. She needed to decide the best way forward. Maybe she could figure out where Carla’s head was from the messages she had sent.

Once Michelle disappeared into the terminal, Lisa pulled her phone from the console and opened WhatsApp. Instead of messages from Carla, she was greeted with five little gray bubbles, each one reading: message was deleted.

This was going to be harder than she thought. With a heavy sigh, Lisa set her phone back in the console, turned the key in the ignition, and pulled away from the airport.

The drive home blurred into a haze of thoughts she couldn’t untangle. Every scenario played out in her head—Carla yelling at her, Carla shutting the door in her face, Carla crying, Carla refusing to even look at her. She tried to rehearse what she might say, running through lines in her mind, mapping out possible conversations. But the more she tried, the clearer it became: she had no idea where Carla’s head was at. Without that, she couldn’t predict anything, couldn’t prepare.

By the time her thoughts finally stilled, she realised she had already pulled up outside Carla’s flat. Her stomach clenched. For a moment she sat there with the engine ticking as it cooled, staring at the building as though it might swallow her whole.

Finally, she forced herself out of the car. The late morning air hit her skin, cool and sharp, doing nothing to steady the tremor in her hands. She crossed the street slowly, each step heavier than the last, and stopped in front of the buzzer.

Her thumb hovered for a second before she pressed it, heart hammering in her chest. She braced herself for Carla’s voice snapping through the speaker, telling her to piss off, telling her she wasn’t welcome.

Instead, there was only the short, sharp buzz of the door unlocking.

Lisa blinked, surprised, then pushed her way inside. Her legs carried her up the stairs two at a time, driven by a nervous energy she couldn’t contain. When she reached the landing, she found the front door already standing open, waiting for her.

Carla sat on the sofa with her back half-turned to Lisa, shoulders tense, the silence between them so sharp it felt like it might split the room in two. Lisa hovered in the doorway, unsure whether she should sit, stand, or just turn around and leave. Her chest ached with the weight of words she didn’t know how to start.

Finally, she lowered herself into the chair across from Carla. The space between them felt like miles. Carla still wouldn’t look at her. Her eyes stayed fixed on her hands, fingers restless, tugging at the skin on her thumb until it reddened.

Lisa’s throat tightened. She hesitated, then leaned forward, reaching across the coffee table. Her hands closed gently over Carla’s, stilling them.

“Don’t do that,” Lisa said softly. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Carla’s fingers twitched under her touch, as though debating whether to pull away.

“Please,” Lisa added, voice quiet but steady. “Look at me.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Carla lifted her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, her expression unreadable, and in that moment Lisa felt her stomach twist with equal parts fear and hope.

Carla’s eyes finally met hers, but only for a flicker of a second before sliding away again. Lisa kept her hands over Carla’s, not gripping, just holding, a silent reminder she was there.

“You don’t have to say anything yet,” Lisa murmured. “I just… I need to know how you’re feeling.”

Carla shifted in her seat, her body angled away as if she were trying to curl in on herself. She didn’t answer.

“Are you…” Lisa hesitated, searching for the least threatening question. “Are you hungover?”

Carla’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Lisa gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Do you want some water? I can get you a glass. Or… tea, maybe?” She tried to smile, though her voice betrayed the nerves tightening in her chest. “I don’t know, whatever would make you feel even a little better right now.”

For the first time, Carla stopped picking at her thumb and looked up.

“What would make me feel a little better?” Carla finally spoke. She pulled her hands free, folding them tightly in her lap. “Do you really think a cup of tea is going to make all of this okay?”

Lisa flinched but forced a small breath out. “Well… no,” she admitted, her shoulders sinking. “But it’s a start.”

Carla’s eyes flicked up at her then, glinting with something between anger and exhaustion. “Where did you go?”

“I took Michelle to the airport,” Lisa said quickly, leaning forward as if to close the distance between them. “She didn’t want you driving after last night, so I offered. I wasn’t sure if coming back here was the right thing to do but… I wanted to check on you. Even if we don’t talk right now, I needed to make sure you’re okay.”

Carla let out a bitter little laugh, but there was no humor in it. She slumped back against the sofa, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the corner of the room. “What do you think, Lisa? This whole thing has fucked everything up. And I don’t know how to fix it. What scares me most is… I don’t know if we can fix it. Or if we even should.”

“Don’t say that.” Lisa’s words tumbled out, too fast, too desperate. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa.“We can fix it. We have to fix it. Carla, you’re my best friend. Please, don’t walk away from that. We were naive, we were stupid, and honestly neither of us were really thinking with our heads, were we? But we can figure this out.”

She paused, her breath shaky, then blurted before she could stop herself: “Maybe we should just… do it again. One last time. You know, end things right.”

The words hung heavy in the air, reckless and raw, and the second they were out Lisa felt her stomach twist in dread.

Carla stared at her for a long, silent moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she pushed herself up from the sofa. Lisa’s heart sank as Carla walked to the door, pulled it open, and stood there with one hand braced against the frame.

“Go.”

Lisa blinked. “Carla, wait—”

“No.” Carla’s voice cracked, but her eyes burned with fury and something deeper—betrayal, maybe. “Having sex again isn’t going to make this better. It’s not going to fix us. It’ll just complicate things even more. You’d get what you want, the sex, and then what? You go running off to Bridget? And I’m left here again, alone, trying to pick up the pieces.”

“That’s not fair—”

Carla’s hands clenched at her sides. “It’s not fair that you can’t see what this is doing to me. You talk about fixing things, but all I hear is you trying to make yourself feel better. Not us. Not me.”

Lisa pushed herself up from the chair, her pulse pounding. “Carla, please, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to use you. I just thought—” She faltered, then forced the words out. “I thought if we ended things on a good note, maybe we could get our friendship back on track. I wasn’t thinking, I just… I’m sorry.”

“A good note? Lisa, do you even hear yourself? You don’t have feelings for me. I don’t have feelings for you. This was never supposed to be anything more than what it was.” She shook her head, her voice hardening. “And you stand there, talking about sex like it’s some kind of magic wand that will make everything better. Do you realise how that makes me feel? Like I’m just a body you can use until you’ve had enough. You’re not better than any man who’s ever treated me that way.”

Lisa flinched as if struck. “Carla, that’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” Carla snapped, her eyes shining now, equal parts fury and hurt. “We were supposed to be friends first. That’s what mattered. But you don’t see how badly this has messed with me. You don’t see how cheap it makes me feel when you suggest fixing everything by sleeping together again. That isn’t friendship, Lisa. That’s using me.”

Lisa’s throat closed. She wanted to protest, wanted to tell Carla she was wrong, but nothing came out.

Carla straightened, her grip tightening on the doorframe. Her voice softened, but only just. “We need to be done. At least for now. We need space. Maybe—maybe if we take a step back, there’s a chance we can salvage something of our friendship. But if we keep pushing like this, there won’t be anything left.”

Lisa swallowed hard, her vision blurring as the words pressed at the back of her throat. Finally, she managed a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Carla. I never meant to make you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Carla’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer. She just stepped back, leaving the doorway open.

Lisa lingered for a moment, wanting desperately to say more, to fix it, but there was nothing left that wouldn’t make things worse. With a small nod, she slipped past Carla and out into the hallway.

The door clicked shut behind her.

By the time she reached her car, Lisa’s chest felt like it was caving in. She climbed inside, shut the door, and let the silence swallow her. For a moment she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, holding back everything clawing at her chest. Then the dam broke. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, wracking sobs shaking her shoulders.

How had it all come to this? She thought back to the beginning, when this arrangement had seemed harmless—fun, even. Just two friends helping each other out. No strings, no risks. Now all she could see was the wreckage: Carla’s hurt, Michelle’s warning, and her own guilt gnawing her from the inside.

She wiped her face with trembling hands, but the tears kept coming. Maybe Carla was right. Maybe space was the only way forward. But as Lisa sat there alone, her heart breaking at the thought of losing her best friend, she wondered if space would be enough to save what they once had—or if it was already gone.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Lisa had stood in Carla's living room, and suggested they spend the night together one last time before drawing the final curtain over what they had been—friends tangled up in something far more complicated. Two weeks since Carla’s temper had flared at the suggestion, sharp words cutting the air before she told Lisa to leave.

The silence that followed was heavier than Carla had expected. Two long weeks stretched out like years, the longest they had ever gone without speaking since the day their friendship began. Carla told herself she was fine, that she didn’t need Lisa, that she was better off without the mess of blurred lines and late-night confessions. But the truth gnawed at her in the quiet moments. She hated the emptiness of her flat, the way every room seemed to echo with Lisa’s absence, the way her phone stayed stubbornly still on the bedside table.

She wouldn’t admit it out loud—not to anyone, not even to herself when she caught her reflection—but she missed her. Missed the easy laughter, the familiar teasing, even the arguments that always burned hot and fizzled into something softer. Missing Lisa was like missing a part of herself, and that was the part Carla couldn’t quite forgive.

She decided she couldn’t spend another night in the flat, another night willing her phone to ring or the intercom to buzz—anything to prove that Lisa still cared. Pulling on her coat, she left the flat, crossed the cobblestones, and pushed open the door of the Rovers. At the bar, she leaned forward.

“A large glass of red, please, Ry.”

“Anything for you, Aunty C. Want me to take it over to Lisa’s table?” He nodded toward a booth behind her, where Lisa sat with someone who could only be Bridget.

“No. I’m fine right here.”

“What’s happened? You two are usually inseparable.”

“People change,” Carla muttered, lifting the wine to her lips.

By her second glass, she heard her name being called from Lisa’s booth. She tried to ignore Lisa, but it was useless. When she finally turned, Lisa was waving her over. Carla wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Too late—eye contact. She couldn’t back out now without seeming petty.

She tipped her glass toward Ryan, who topped it up without a word. With a sigh, she picked it up and made her way over to the booth. Lisa and Bridget were sitting shoulder to shoulder, Bridget’s hand resting lightly on Lisa’s knee.

“Carla, this is Bridget. Bridget, this is Carla.”

Bridget extended her hand across the table, her smile easy, practiced. Carla reached out, meeting the gesture, her grip firmer than she intended.

“You’re the famous Carla, then. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Bridget said.

Carla’s chest tightened. Heard a lot—what exactly did that mean? Did Bridget know? About her and Lisa, about the messy arrangement they’d kept hidden? Surely not. Most people wouldn’t be so composed if someone their partner had once slept with was sitting across the table.

Carla forced a smile, glancing at Lisa for reassurance. “All good things, I hope.”

“Yes, of course. Betsy spoke very highly of you. Honestly, she couldn’t stop talking about you.”

The words hit Carla like a punch. Betsy. Bridget had met Betsy.

Lisa had always been firm—unyielding even—about keeping Betsy separate, protected. No introductions, not until things were serious. And Bridget… she’s met her already?

Carla’s mind spun. How many dates had it been? She hadn’t spoken to Lisa in two weeks. Could it be more than just one or two? Had Bridget stayed over? Sat at Lisa’s kitchen table in Lisa’s dressing gown, the one she usually wore when she was at Lisa’s, sipping coffee from her mug, laughing with Betsy like some ready-made family?

A nausea rose in her throat. It only worsened when she caught Bridget’s hand sliding up the back of Lisa’s neck, fingers threading lightly through her hair.

The silence at the table stretched too long. Carla felt it pressing down, suffocating. If she didn’t speak, if she didn’t reclaim some ground, the awkwardness would suffocate her.

“You’ve met Betsy?” Carla asked finally, her voice tighter than she meant.

“Yes,” Bridget said easily. “It wasn’t planned. She was running late for the cinema with a friend, and I was already there to pick Lisa up. So I dropped her off.”

“That was very kind of you,” Carla replied, her tone carefully polite. “Betsy has a terrible habit of being late. She didn’t get that from Lisa—she has to be anywhere hours early.”

Lisa chuckled, slipping seamlessly into the old rhythm. “Well, yes, you’ve got to park, get food, and line up before the doors even open—”

Carla cut in, sharper than she intended. “When you buy tickets, you already have assigned seats. There’s no need to get there that early. The support act doesn’t even start for an hour.”

And then she saw it.

Bridget, leaning in without hesitation, cupping Lisa’s cheek with practiced intimacy. Lisa’s gaze flicked to Carla—just for a second, enough to register the reaction—before Bridget pressed a light kiss to her lips.

“I like it,” Bridget murmured. “It’s cute, wanting to be early.”

Carla swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She pushed back from the booth with a too-bright smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to head to the ladies’.”

Her legs carried her quickly away, even as her chest ached with the hollow sting of what she’d just witnessed.

Carla gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, her pulse thudded in her throat, hot and relentless, like it wanted to crawl out of her skin.

Betsy. Bridget had met Betsy.

She splashed cold water over her wrists, then her face, though it did nothing to wash away the rising sickness. Bridget had been around for two minutes and she had met Betsy, this wasn’t just some casual thing, Bridget was being introduced to Lisa’s friends and family, into her life almost as if she wasn’t going anywhere.

Carla pressed her palms flat to the counter, bowing her head. Images pushed at her mind like cruel projections: Bridget in Lisa’s kitchen, barefoot, wearing Lisa’s dressing gown, stirring sugar into Carla’s favorite mug as if it belonged to her. Betsy laughing, telling her things she’d never even shared with Carla. Lisa, smiling that soft smile—the one Carla had once believed was hers alone.

Her stomach twisted hard, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood grounded her.

The door creaked open. Footsteps. And then Lisa’s voice, soft, tentative.

“Carla?”

Carla straightened too quickly, her reflection betraying the blotchy flush across her cheeks. She turned toward Lisa, forcing her arms across her chest, like armour.

Lisa’s eyes searched her face, cautious but worried. “You okay? You left pretty fast.”

Carla let out a sharp laugh that didn’t sound like her. “Oh, I’m fine. Just needed a moment. I didn’t expect to see you here and especially not with Bridget, did you bring her here to torment me, to show me what you’ve got now.”

Lisa’s lips parted, a protest caught on her tongue. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Carla, that’s not what’s happening. I didn’t know you were going to be here, I’m not trying to torment you”

Carla shook her head, eyes stinging. “Really? Because from where I was sitting, Bridget’s already got the keys to the kingdom. She’s met Betsy. She’s touching you like—like you belong to her.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for it. Hated how raw she sounded, how much power she’d just handed over.

Lisa sighed, reaching out as if to touch her, then pulling back. “I didn’t plan for her to meet Betsy. It just happened. And Bridget doesn’t—she doesn’t mean what you’re making it out to be.”

Carla’s laugh came again, broken this time. “Then tell me, Lisa. What does it mean? Because I’m standing in a pub toilet trying not to fall apart, and you’re out there kissing someone else in front of me like it’s nothing.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbearable.

Lisa finally whispered, “I didn’t think you’d care this much.”

Carla’s breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she wanted to scream, or collapse, or both.

The toilet door swung open, creaking against the tiled wall. Bridget’s face appeared in the gap, all sunshine and ease, as if she hadn’t just pressed her mouth to Lisa’s across the table.

“I’m just about to order our hot pots,” she said brightly. “And I was wondering if you wanted to join us, Carla?”

Carla swallowed hard. Her reflection still burned behind her eyes, the flush of humiliation written across her cheeks. She forced her voice steady, though it came out thin, brittle.

“No, thank you. I don’t want to interrupt any more of your date. I think I’m going to head off.”

Bridget stepped inside a fraction, tilting her head in a way that might have looked considerate to anyone else—but to Carla, it felt like pity wrapped in politeness.

“Are you sure?” Bridget pressed gently. “I’d love to get to know you. Betsy told me how important you are to Lisa, and I’d love to hear some stories about her. And who better to tell me than her best friend?”

The words landed like a blade, smooth and precise. Best friend. Carla nearly flinched. She could hear it in the way Bridget said it—casual, claiming, like the title of partner already belonged to her, leaving Carla pushed aside into something smaller, safer, less threatening.

Carla’s chest tightened, a silent scream rising inside her. Best friend. Not lover. Not confidante. Not the person who knew the sound Lisa made when she first woke up, or how she hated cheese but loved pizza, or the way she hummed under her breath when she was nervous.

All of that, and yet Bridget’s smile said you’re on the sidelines now.

Carla managed a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s… sweet of you, but I really should go.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she dropped her gaze to the floor before Bridget could see the betrayal swimming in her eyes.

Carla slipped out of the ladies’ and kept her head down as she crossed the pub. She didn’t look back toward the booth where Lisa and Bridget were sitting. She couldn’t. 

Ryan was behind the bar, polishing a glass. He caught sight of her and frowned. “You heading off already? You alright?”

Carla pulled her coat tighter around her and forced something that might pass for a smile. “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all. Night, Ry.”

“Night, Carla,” he said gently, not pressing but not convinced either.

She slipped out into the cool night air before he could ask again. Her chest felt hollow, her thoughts spiraling, thoughts she couldn’t stop.

Why did I ever agree to that bloody arrangement?

At the time, it had seemed harmless. An easy, uncomplicated way to keep Lisa close without risking anything. Friends with benefits—simple, neat, contained. A way to have Lisa without ever having to admit she wanted more.

But it hadn’t stayed neat. Not for her.

The more time they spent together, the more the lines blurred. It became impossible to separate Lisa’s laugh tangled in the sheets from Lisa’s laugh across the kitchen table, impossible to tell the difference between Lisa moaning her name in the dark and Lisa saying it just to get her attention in the middle of a story.

Carla had told herself it was casual, that she could keep it casual. But every touch, every look, every ordinary moment had wormed its way under her skin. What was supposed to be simple had rewired her heart without her permission

Carla swallowed hard, her throat raw.

Maybe that’s all it ever was for Lisa. A bit of fun. A distraction. And to her? She went and built something else out of it. Something she couldn't  even say out loud without sounding pathetic.

Her breath caught as she thought of the booth she’d left behind. Bridget’s hand on Lisa’s neck, Lisa leaning into it, the easy intimacy between them.

The ship had sailed. Lisa had Bridget now. Someone she could take to The Rovers without secrecy, someone she could let meet Betsy without hesitation. Someone who wasn’t a complication, wasn’t a mistake.

And Carla—Carla was just a friend. The one who’d tried to keep her heart safe with casual sex and ended up losing everything anyway.

Chapter Text

Breathless, Lisa sat up, her skin still tingling as she caught Bridget’s wrist. Her voice came out low and husky. “We need to stop,” she whispered, though the words sounded more like a plea than a command.

“Oh, I can go,” she murmured, starting to push herself away.

But Lisa didn’t let her. Her fingers tightened, pulling Bridget back with surprising urgency. This time she guided her into her lap, positioning her so Bridget’s thighs framed her own. The sudden closeness stole the air from both of them.

Bridget settled, breath hitching as she felt the firm press of Lisa beneath her. Lisa’s hands slid instinctively to Bridget’s hips, holding her in place, their faces only inches apart.

“Stay,” Lisa murmured, eyes dark with want. Her lips hovered close enough for Bridget to feel the warmth of her breath, but not quite touching. 

“But I thought you said we should stop.”

“I just meant that I’m not sure what time Betsy will be home,” Lisa admitted, biting her lip. “I wouldn’t want her to walk in on us.”

Bridget’s eyes darkened with desire, her voice low and teasing. “Oh, right. That’s fair. Especially since I haven’t been able to stop thinking about getting my hands on you. I wouldn’t want to be interrupted.”

Lisa felt a shiver run through her, the tension between them thickening. “Would you settle for us just continuing to kiss until we can take advantage of having the house to ourselves?”

Bridget leaned closer, her lips brushing along Lisa’s jawline, then down to her neck, sending shivers through her. Lisa tilted her head back, giving herself over to the sensation, her hands tangling in Bridget’s hair.

Bridget’s body pressed against hers, hips grinding softly into Lisa’s as they moved together, testing boundaries, teasing each other with slow, deliberate pressure. Lisa’s breath hitched, a small moan escaping her lips as the warmth between them grew, every inch of contact electrifying.

Just as Bridget’s lips found the sensitive spot behind Lisa’s ear, the sound of the living room door opening cut through the air like a knife. Both women froze, hearts hammering.

Lisa’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open as standing framed in the doorway was Carla, holding a thoroughly drunken Betsy in her arms.

Lisa felt her heart tighten as Carla snapped, trying to keep Betsy upright in her arms. “This explains why you haven’t been answering your phone,” Carla said, her voice sharp but tinged with worry. “Mason has been trying to reach you all night. He finally gave up and called me.”

Lisa looked down at the floor, feeling a flush of guilt and embarrassment. “Oh, sorry. My phone was on silent,” she muttered, her voice small.

“Yeah,” Carla said, her tone sharp, making Lisa flinch slightly. “I can see why.”

Bridget shifted beside her, climbing carefully off Lisa and sitting down. Lisa felt a wave of self-conscious heat rush over her, both women suddenly caught in that awkward space where desire and reality collided. They both felt like teenagers caught by their parents, exposed and guilty.

Lisa’s thoughts snapped back to Betsy. “How much has she had to drink?” she asked, her voice low, tense.

“Hardly anything,” Carla replied, her eyes on Betsy. “Mason thinks, and I agree. She's been spiked.”

Spiked. The word hit Lisa like ice in her chest. Betsy at a house party with friends. Surely she wouldn’t have been spiked. But the panic gnawed at her, sharp and urgent. Without thinking, she pushed herself to her feet, legs moving before her mind could catch up, and made her way over to her daughter.

Betsy swayed slightly, leaning heavily against Carla. Lisa slid her arms around her daughter’s waist and shoulders, holding her close. “Betsy, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” she murmured, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm.

Her mind raced through worst-case scenarios, each more frightening than the last. She felt her pulse hammering in her ears, adrenaline tightening her chest. She focused on Betsy, willing herself to stay grounded, to keep her daughter upright and safe.

Bridget remained quiet beside them, and Lisa felt a flicker of guilt and gratitude. She needed support but also wanted to protect this fragile moment. Every groan and shiver from Betsy made Lisa’s stomach twist with worry. She tightened her hold, wishing she could do more, fearing what might have happened, but forcing herself to remain steady, to be the anchor Betsy needed.

The room was thick with tension, each second stretching longer than the last. Lisa’s thoughts swirled, a chaotic storm of fear and urgency, yet she forced herself to breathe, to focus entirely on keeping her daughter safe.

“I’ve done my job, so I should be getting home. Lisa, let me know how she is,” Carla said, her tone clipped, her focus still on keeping Betsy steady.

“Please stay,” Lisa replied quickly, her voice softer than she intended. She knew she had no right to ask Carla for anything, not after everything between them, but this moment wasn’t about the tangled mess of their relationship. It was about Betsy.

Bridget straightened, brushing her hands against her thighs as though grounding herself. “Yes, Carla, you should probably stay. And I should be heading off. I hope Betsy is okay. Give me a call tomorrow,” she added gently, leaning over to press a kiss to Lisa’s cheek.

Lisa’s chest tightened at the gesture. She turned her head slightly toward Bridget. “You don’t need to go, Bridget,” she said, the words slipping out before she had fully thought them through.

Bridget gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I think it’s best if I do,” she replied, her tone even, leaving no room for argument.

Lisa sighed, shifting her weight and carefully moving Betsy just enough so Bridget could pass by. Bridget brushed past her, and Lisa felt the faintest brush of her hand against her arm, a fleeting, silent comfort.

The room felt heavier once Bridget slipped through the doorway, the air charged with unspoken words and complicated feelings. Lisa tightened her arm around Betsy, looking over at Carla. For a moment she wanted to reach out, to ask something, anything, but she stayed quiet, focusing on the unsteady girl in her arms.

“Can you help me get her up to bed, or should I be taking her to A&E?” Lisa asked. Her voice was steady, but inside she was reeling. 

She had dealt with countless cases of spiking in her years as a copper, but this was different. This was her daughter. One person would know more than her, though, and that was Carla. After all, Carla had been spiked more times than Lisa wanted to think about. That would be her excuse if Carla asked why she wanted her to stay. She would not say she missed her. She would not say the hundreds of words bubbling on the tip of her tongue. She would simply say Carla had personal experience.

Carla adjusted her grip on Betsy, brushing damp hair from the girl’s face. “I think we can give A&E a miss,” she said quietly, her tone firm but gentler than before. “If we get her into bed, get some water down her, put her on her side with a bucket by her bed, I think she’ll be okay. She’ll probably feel very groggy in the morning, a bit disoriented. Her stomach might be unsettled, she could have the shakes, maybe even a bit of paranoia if the stuff lingers. That’s the nasty thing about being spiked—it doesn’t just mess with your body, it scrambles your head too. She’ll need rest, fluids, and to know she’s safe when she wakes up.”

Carla glanced  at Lisa, her eyes softening for a brief moment before flicking back to Betsy. “It’s frightening when it happens, especially the first time. You wake up not sure what’s real, what happened, or who you can trust. If you’re calm and steady for her, it’ll help.”

Lisa swallowed hard, her heart aching at the thought of her daughter going through what she had seen other young women endure. She nodded, grateful for Carla’s certainty even as guilt gnawed at her for needing her in this moment.

Between them, Lisa and Carla managed to half-carry, half-guide Betsy up the stairs. Lisa held her daughter’s arm across her shoulders, while Carla kept a steady hand at Betsy’s back, murmuring soft reassurances every time Betsy stumbled. By the time they reached the bedroom, Lisa’s arms were aching, but she forced herself to stay steady.

Carla pulled back the duvet, and together they lowered Betsy onto the mattress. Lisa crouched to tug off her shoes, setting them neatly by the wall, while Carla fetched a glass of water from the bathroom and placed it on the bedside table. A bucket followed, settled carefully on the floor within reach.

Lisa brushed the hair from Betsy’s damp forehead, tucking it behind her ear. Her daughter’s breathing was already evening out, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Lisa leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she whispered.

When she straightened, Carla was standing at the other side of the bed, arms folded tightly across her chest, her eyes lingering on Betsy with a mixture of worry and something Lisa could not quite name.

“Carla…” Lisa began, her voice catching slightly. She hesitated, then pushed on. “Can we talk?”

Carla’s gaze flicked up, meeting hers, and for a moment Lisa thought she saw a flicker of the old softness. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with a cool steadiness that cut sharper than anger.

“No. Not now,” Carla said, her voice calm but firm. “I can’t do this right now.”

Lisa felt her throat tighten. She hadn’t even known Carla was going to be here, hadn’t expected to see her tonight, but the image of her standing in the doorway, holding Betsy, while she and Bridget were pressed together on the sofa, burned in her chest. “Carla, please—”

Carla shook her head. “Lisa, I need some time. I just… I can’t.” She glanced once more at Betsy, her expression softening again. “When she’s feeling up to it, make sure she messages me. I want to know she’s alright.”

And with that, Carla turned, and walked toward the door. Lisa’s heart twisted as she watched her go, wanting to call after her, wanting to stop her, but the words caught in her throat.

The bedroom door closed softly behind her, leaving Lisa in the half-light with her daughter sleeping soundly and her own thoughts roaring in the silence.

Chapter Text

Carla didn't look back as she closed Betsy's door behind her. Her chest was tight, her jaw set, every muscle in her body wound so tightly she thought she might snap. She made it down the stairs and out of the house, but the moment the cool night air hit her, the facade cracked.

She drove home in silence, hands gripping the wheel harder than necessary, the image of Lisa and Bridget tangled on the sofa burning behind her eyes. Lisa’s flushed face, Bridget’s body pressing against hers, Lisa’s soft moan. Carla had walked in at the worst possible moment, carrying the one person they both should have been protecting, and instead of relief at getting Betsy home safe, all she could feel was that hollow twist of betrayal.

By the time she got back to her flat, Carla didn't bother with the lights. She went straight to the cupboard, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and unscrewed the cap with shaking fingers. The burn hit her throat hard, but she welcomed it. She wanted the numbness, wanted something to take the edge off the gnawing ache in her chest.

She poured another glass, then abandoned the glass entirely and drank straight from the bottle. The alcohol dulled her edges quickly, softening the sharpness of the day, but it did nothing to silence the images replaying in her head.

Lisa on the couch. Bridget’s hands roaming her. Lisa’s lips parting in a moan that Carla knew by heart. The way her head tilted back, vulnerable, needy. It used to be Carla who drew those sounds from her. Now it was Bridget.

Carla squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against the sofa, the bottle balanced against her thigh. She hated herself for picturing it, for imagining Bridget straddling Lisa, Lisa’s hands in her hair, Lisa whispering her name. Each thought twisted the knife deeper, but she could not stop.

She dragged in a shaky breath, the taste of vodka hot on her tongue. She knew she should stop, that drinking herself into oblivion would solve nothing, but the thought of lying in bed alone, sober, with nothing but those images for company, was unbearable.

Carla tipped the bottle again, swallowing down the burn until the edges blurred. If this was the only way to quiet her mind, then so be it.

Carla sat slumped on the sofa, the vodka bottle balanced against her thigh. The alcohol had numbed her edges but not enough, not nearly enough. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again — Lisa spread out on that sofa, Bridget’s body pressed against hers, Lisa’s lips swollen from kissing. The very sofa Carla herself had once had Lisa gasping and trembling on, the memory of her own fingers inside Lisa still so vivid it made her chest ache.

Her phone was already in her hand before she even realised. Lisa’s name glowed at the top of her messages, familiar and cruel all at once. Carla opened the thread and began typing, her thumbs clumsy from drink.

Carla: So you let her touch you on the sofa? The same sofa you had me?

Her heart stuttered. She stared at the words, the sharpness of them, and then pressed delete until the screen was blank again.

Another message formed, even filthier, even more desperate.

Carla: Does she make you as wet as I did?

The words blurred. Carla’s throat closed as though she might choke. Delete.

She tried again.

Carla: I hope you’re happy with her. With Bridget.

Her finger hovered over the send button, her breath ragged. Delete.

The fourth message came slower, more dangerous.

Carla: Do you have feelings for her?

Carla stared at the question, the one she could not bear to know the answer to. Her thumb shook over the button. Delete.

The phone slipped from her hand onto the cushion beside her. She dragged the vodka back to her lips, swallowing until her throat burned. Nothing helped. The silence of the room pressed down on her, and the echo of Lisa’s laughter with Bridget — imagined or real — haunted every corner of her mind.

She curled into herself on the sofa, bottle still in hand, praying for oblivion to take her before she reached for her phone again.

A few hours had passed and Carla had woken up face down on the floor, cheek pressed against the carpet, the taste of vodka stale on her tongue. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. Her body ached as though she had been trampled, her head pounded, and the room spun violently when she tried to push herself upright.

The fog of sleep did nothing to quiet her thoughts. Lisa, Lisa and Bridget. The same loop, the same torment. Every single image blurred together until it was impossible to separate memory from imagination. Why couldn’t she just be honest with the blonde? Why couldn’t she just say the words instead of swallowing them down? But no, it was too late now. That ship had sailed. Lisa had moved on, maybe she had started to fall in love with Bridget.

The thought burned, clawing at her ribs like a sickness.

Carla staggered to her feet, gripping the back of the sofa to steady herself. She could not keep doing this — not the drinking, not the spiralling. She needed a distraction, something before she tipped herself over the edge completely. Something that would stop her becoming too far gone, too pathetic.

She knew exactly what she needed.

She needed to pack a bag and take a trip. A few days away from Weatherfield. A few days without the constant reminders, without walking into the Rovers or down the cobbles and seeing Lisa everywhere she turned. A few days to get her thoughts and feelings in order. A few days to not feel like a 50-year-old woman pathetically pining after her best friend. Or ex-best friend. Or whatever Lisa was to her now. Carla wasn’t even sure anymore.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, willing the tears not to fall, then forced herself toward the bedroom. A bag. A trip. Distance. Anything to breathe again.

Carla stumbled into her bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as though it could hold her up. The silence pressed against her ears, suffocating. Her gaze fell on the laptop perched on her dressing table, its screen dark and waiting.

She crossed the room and dropped into the chair, flipping it open. The glow of the screen stung her eyes, but she didn’t blink. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she forced them into motion. Manchester departures. Tomorrow morning. One passenger.

The list of destinations scrolled endlessly before her. Paris. Amsterdam. Barcelona. Milan. Cities that promised escape, anonymity, a chance to disappear for a few days. Her pulse quickened as she scrolled, restless, unfocused.

Then her hand stilled. A name lit up on the screen, and her chest squeezed. Not just anywhere. Not some faceless city where she would drink herself numb in a hotel bar. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere she knew someone. Someone who…

She didn’t let herself think further. She clicked. The booking page loaded, her card details flying in as though her fingers knew the way on their own. Minutes later, the confirmation sat in her inbox. It was done.

Carla shut the laptop and pushed herself to her feet, yanking open the wardrobe. A suitcase was dragged out and thrown onto the bed. She filled it with whatever her hands touched first: jeans, blouses, a couple of kimonos, her favourite boots. Makeup bag. Toiletries. Passport from the drawer she never left untouched.

It was frantic and mechanical, but inside her chest her heart was hammering. Every folded shirt was a step away from Weatherfield, every zipped compartment a wall between her and Lisa.

When she finally sat back on the bed, bag packed and ready, her hands trembled. She didn’t know what she would say when she arrived, or even if she should say anything at all.

All she knew was tomorrow, she would see a familiar face. Someone who could distract her from the ache that Lisa had left behind.

Tonight, she just had to get through the silence.

Chapter Text

Lisa lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had been slipping from her for hours, her mind refusing to quiet. She felt the shift of the mattress beside her and turned her head. Bridget was sleeping soundly, her face soft, her breathing steady.

It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

This wasn’t the woman Lisa wanted to be lying next to. The thought stabbed at her chest, sharp with guilt. Bridget was good. Bridget was kind. The sex, though not bad, left Lisa hollow. The problem wasn’t Bridget—it was Carla.

Every moan pulled from her body carried Carla’s ghost. Every kiss tasted of a memory she couldn’t let go. When Bridget’s fingers moved inside her, Lisa had to bite her lip until it hurt, afraid Carla’s name would break free. And when Bridget kissed her way down, pulling her clit into her mouth, Lisa only felt relief that her face was hidden, because she knew it betrayed the truth. It was underwhelming.

Carla had been different. Carla, with no experience, had still managed to shatter her world. The way she touched, the way she gave herself over—it had been chaotic and imperfect, yet it had felt alive in a way Lisa couldn’t replicate.

She hated herself for this. She hated that Carla lingered like a phantom when their agreement was over.

Maybe, Lisa told herself, this was only the beginning with Bridget. Maybe intimacy needed time, trial, adjustment—learning what drew out a moan, what made toes curl, what made breath hitch. But even as she thought it, a heavier truth settled in her chest.

She didn’t know if she wanted to try. Because no matter what Bridget gave, all Lisa would do was picture Carla—the woman she still wanted beside her.

Why hadn’t she just been honest? She could see it clearly now. Maybe she had seen it before, but fear kept her quiet—fear of ruining what she and Carla had. Only now she wasn’t even sure what that was. Friendship? It didn’t feel like that anymore. It felt like two people orbiting a memory, clinging to a past that had already slipped away.

Lisa didn’t want that. She couldn’t bear it. Losing Carla entirely wasn’t an option her heart would accept. Yet staying with Bridget while trying to hold onto Carla was impossible. It wasn’t fair on Bridget, unknowingly competing with a woman she didn’t even realise she was competing against. It wasn’t fair on Carla, forced to watch Lisa play house with someone else, even though Lisa had no idea what Carla truly felt. And it wasn’t fair on Lisa herself, settling into something half-hearted just because the thought of being honest with Carla terrified her.

The truth pressed down on her: she needed to end things with Bridget. Cooling it off would hurt, but it was the only way to be fair—to Bridget, to Carla, and to herself. Only after that could she even think about Carla again. Maybe she could pursue something more, or at the very least, find the courage to talk to her honestly.

But even that thought carried a sharp edge. Lisa might have already destroyed it. She might have crossed the point where friendship could be salvaged, where anything more could even exist.

She couldn’t end things now. Not after sleeping with Bridget. She wished she had come to that realisation before they crossed the line, but it was too late. Like always, she had complicated it. And yet, dragging it out wasn’t fair either. If she kept going, there was the risk of feelings being involved, and that wasn’t what she wanted. Not really.

Her chest tightened with frustration. She wanted to scream, to shout, to beg the universe for some kind of sign. Anything at all that could help her sort through the mess she had made. But she couldn’t just lie there. The air in the bedroom felt heavy, suffocating. She needed to move, to walk, to get out of her own head.

Sliding carefully from under the covers, Lisa crept out of the room. She eased the door shut behind her, wincing at the faint click, and padded downstairs. She expected darkness, emptiness. Instead, the living room light spilled out, and there on the sofa sat Betsy, curled up but awake.

“Everything okay, darling?” Lisa asked softly as she crossed the room and sank down beside her.

Betsy shifted, pulling her legs closer to her chest. “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. Carla said it might be like this for a couple of days.” She paused, then frowned. “Where is Carla? Why hasn’t she been by? I tried calling her but after that text yesterday, I haven’t heard anything. And that’s not like her. She’s usually here all the time. Has something happened with you two?”

Lisa blinked, thrown off balance by the flood of questions. “Okay, woah, slow down with the twenty questions,” she said, sliding an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Everything’s fine with Carla. She’s just busy.”

“Busy?” Betsy gave her a look, sharp and doubtful. “She’s never too busy for us.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Lisa lied.

The truth pressed heavy at the back of her throat. She couldn’t let it spill out, not here, not with Betsy. Her daughter adored Carla, idolised her even, and if she knew the truth… if she knew what Lisa and Carla had been doing and how badly it had unravelled, she’d feel torn. Lisa wouldn’t let that happen.

But Betsy wasn’t letting it go. “Do you like Bridget? You must, right? If you slept with her. Is that why Carla isn’t around? Because Bridget doesn’t like her? Are you really choosing a woman over your best friend? Because if you are, that’s a shitty thing to do. I don’t care how good the sex is.”

Lisa sat bolt upright. “Elizabeth Swain. I would never choose a woman over a friend. It’s just… complicated, okay?”

“Complicated?” Betsy shot back. “What’s so complicated? Bridget shows up and Carla disappears. Doesn’t seem complicated to me.”

“Betsy, it’s—” Lisa faltered.

She shouldn’t be having this conversation. Not with her daughter. But Betsy was relentless, and Lisa knew she wouldn’t stop unless she gave her something. The problem was, there was nothing she could say that would make sense, nothing that wouldn’t unravel the whole story.

“It’s what?” Betsy pressed. “Why hasn’t Carla been around?”

Lisa swallowed hard. She hated herself for saying it, but the word came anyway. “We slept together.”

Betsy blinked. “Carla’s straight. But then I guess, so is spaghetti. Until it gets wet.”

Lisa let out a long sigh. “So you get why things are… complicated right now.”

“Not really,” Betsy admitted. “You’re friends. How did you even cross that line? Was it some drunk mistake? Because yeah, you two do knock them back a bit when you’re together.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Lisa muttered, hiding her face in her hands. Then, forcing herself to meet her daughter’s gaze, she confessed, “I was embarrassed about having sex. Okay? There. I said it.”

“What does that have to do with Carla?”

“She offered to help me,” Lisa said quietly. “To give me some confidence back. And it worked. We set up this… arrangement. Friends with benefits. It was fine. More than fine. Until it wasn’t.”

“What happened?”

“I met Bridget. She was kind. Lovely. I wanted to see where it could go. But that meant I had to end things with Carla. I thought we could finish it neatly, one last time, but she didn’t want that. We argued.” Lisa’s throat grew tight. “Then things with Bridget were going great, but now… I don’t know if she’s worth losing Carla over.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

And then, without warning, the front door opened and closed. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

She scrambled to her feet, rushed to the hallway, and yanked the door open.

But Bridget was already in her car, taillights glowing red in the dark. By the time Lisa reached the step, the car was speeding away, taking any chance of fixing things with it.

Lisa closed the front door slowly, the weight of it thudding shut like the full stop to a sentence she hadn’t meant to write. She pressed her forehead against the cool wood for a moment, her chest rising and falling unevenly, before finally turning back toward the living room.

“Well,” she muttered bitterly, dragging her hands through her hair, “it seems I just fuck everything up.”

Betsy was still perched on the sofa, wide-eyed but trying to look composed. “Was that Bridget?”

Lisa gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “Who else would it be, Bets?”

“Good point.” Betsy fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, then asked carefully, “Did she… not know about you and Carla?”

Lisa’s silence was enough of an answer, but she said it anyway. “What do you think?”

“Fair point,” Betsy sighed. “Ring her. Talk to her.”

Lisa’s throat tightened. How could she explain that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to? Bridget was lovely—kind, patient, the kind of woman any sane person would want to hold onto. Maybe, if Lisa let herself, she could develop feelings for her. Maybe. But wanting to want something wasn’t the same as truly wanting it.

And Lisa knew the truth. The person she couldn’t stop thinking about, the one who mattered in a way that made her insides twist, wasn’t Bridget.

“I need to ring Carla,” she said quietly.

Betsy blinked at her. “I didn’t mean Carla. I meant Bridget.”

“I know.” Lisa sank down onto the sofa beside her, her voice low, heavy with guilt. “And I will speak to Bridget. I owe her an apology. But… I need to talk to Carla. I need to apologise to her, too, and try to salvage our friendship. And maybe—” her voice caught, but she forced herself to go on, “maybe, if I haven’t caused too much damage, we could talk. Because I think I might have feelings for her. Real feelings. And I have absolutely no idea how she feels about me. But I’ll never know if I just keep avoiding it.”

Betsy stared at her, stunned into silence for a moment. “You… you have feelings for Carla?”

Lisa’s heart pounded as she nodded. Saying it out loud felt terrifying, but also like a release. “I think I might. I’m scared to even admit it to myself, let alone anyone else. How do you feel about that?”

Betsy chewed her lip, her expression softening. “I mean… Carla’s great. You already know how I feel about her. She’s basically family. But… do you really think she feels the same?”

Lisa let out a long breath, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I don’t know. That’s the worst part. I’ve been replaying every moment in my head, wondering if I misread everything, if she only agreed to help me because she felt sorry for me, or if there was something more.” She paused, lifting her eyes to Betsy’s. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

Lisa leaned back against the sofa, her hands knotted together in her lap. The words she had just confessed hung in the air, and the more she thought about them, the heavier they became. Feelings. For Carla. Of course she had them. The problem was, she had no idea if Carla wanted anything to do with her anymore.

A sick twist of dread curled through her stomach. Maybe she’d already lost her. Maybe the silence wasn’t just space, wasn’t just Carla being busy or cautious. Maybe it was the end.

The thought alone made Lisa’s chest ache.

She pulled her phone from the coffee table and stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Carla’s name. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, as though pressing the call button might make everything real.

Finally, she tapped it. The ring buzzed in her ear, sharp and unforgiving. Once. Twice. A third time. And then Carla’s voice, distant and automated. You’ve reached Carla, leave a message…

Lisa closed her eyes, letting the voicemail drone to its end before she hung up. Her shoulders sagged as she stared at the darkened screen.

She could leave it. She could send a text, a safe, vague message that Carla might read and ignore. She could let things fade away, let Bridget be the easier choice. But every instinct in her screamed against it.

She needed to see her. She needed to try.

“I’m going over there,” Lisa said suddenly, pushing up from the sofa and heading for the stairs.

Betsy frowned. “What do you mean, over there?”

“Carla’s flat.” Lisa ran a hand through her hair, already thinking about what she could throw on, how fast she could get out the door. “If she won’t pick up, then I’ll go to her. I can’t sit here all night wondering. I need to talk to her face-to-face.”

Betsy followed her to the hallway, concern etched across her face. “Mum, is that really a good idea? Turning up at her place like that? What if she doesn’t want to see you?”

Lisa paused on the bottom step, her hand gripping the banister. “I have no idea if it’s a good idea,” she admitted. Her voice cracked, but she steadied it. “But I need to talk to her. If I don’t, then I’ll always wonder. And I can’t live like that, not knowing where we stand.”

For a beat, Betsy studied her, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Then go.”

Lisa gave her a small, grateful smile, then turned and climbed the stairs, her mind racing. Every step felt like a countdown—toward confrontation, toward truth, toward the possibility that she might finally learn if what she felt was something Carla could return. Or if she was about to lose her for good.

The drive to Carla’s flat felt longer than it was, every red light gnawing at Lisa’s nerves. She barely noticed the familiar streets she turned onto or the way the headlights of oncoming cars blurred as her eyes prickled with unshed tears. All she could think was that Carla might not want to see her anymore, that she’d ruined the one relationship that mattered most.

By the time she pulled up outside the flat, her chest was tight with dread. She sat in the car for a moment, staring up at the dark windows, her fingers clenched so hard around the steering wheel that they ached.

“Come on, Lisa,” she muttered to herself. “Just do it.”

She climbed out, crossed the pavement, and pressed Carla’s buzzer.

Nothing.

She pressed it again, holding her breath. Still nothing.

The silence was deafening.

“Lisa?”

The voice cut through the night, and she spun around to see Ryan walking across the street, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder. 

“Alright?”

Lisa swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was just trying to get hold of Carla. She’s not answering.”

Ryan shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah… she’s not in. She’s gone away.”

Lisa’s stomach lurched. “Gone away? What do you mean ‘gone away’? Where?”

He shrugged, apologetic. “Dunno. She left earlier, bag in hand. Didn’t say a word to me, just looked like she needed space. You know what she’s like when she doesn’t want to talk.”

Lisa’s heart sank further. “She didn’t mention anything? Not even a hint?”

“Sorry, Lis.” Ryan gave her a small, sympathetic look. “If she didn’t tell me, I doubt she wants anyone to know. Best thing you can do is give her time.”

Time. The word stung. Time meant distance, and distance meant losing her for good.

“Right,” she murmured, nodding even though her insides screamed against it.

Ryan gave her shoulder a brief squeeze before heading off into the night, leaving Lisa standing alone outside the flat.

Her phone was in her hand before she’d even decided what to do. She scrolled down to Michelle’s name and pressed call, clinging to the hope that Michelle would know something, anything.

The line rang before Michelle finally picked up. “Lisa? What’s wrong?”

“Is she with you?” Lisa blurted, her voice shaking. “Carla. Is she there?”

“No,” Michelle said firmly. “She’s not here.”

Lisa squeezed her eyes shut. “Michelle, please don’t lie to me. If she’s there, I need to see her. I need to talk to her.”

“I’m not lying,” Michelle replied, her tone gentler now but still steady. “I promise you, she’s not with me.”

But Lisa couldn’t make herself believe it. It sounded too much like Michelle was protecting her, hiding something. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. And Lisa—” Michelle hesitated, then added, “If I hear from her, if she tells me where she’s gone, I’ll call you. But you’ve got to do the same. If she comes to you, or you find her, you ring me straight away. Deal?”

Lisa’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Deal.”

The line went dead, and Lisa lowered the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen as panic pressed in on her from all sides.

If Michelle was telling the truth, then where was Carla? And if she wasn’t… then why keep Lisa away?

Her thoughts spiralled, sharp and relentless. Maybe she had pushed too far. Maybe this was what losing Carla looked like — unanswered calls, empty windows, and the hollow silence of a flat that should have held her but didn’t.

Maybe she was already too late.

Chapter Text

Carla rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling before glancing at the body beside her. The body beside her slept soundly, his breathing heavy, his arm still draped around her waist as though they belonged here together. He had been a distraction, the only one she knew would take her in without hesitation, without questions. The moment she stepped through his door, he kissed her hard and pulled her toward the bedroom. In her drunken haze, it had felt like the right move, maybe even a good idea. But the instant he groaned, finished, and collapsed beside her, she knew she had been wrong.

What they shared wasn’t passion. It wasn’t hunger or fire. It was familiarity, the comfort of slipping into old slippers and knowing exactly how they fit. Their sex had been flat, predictable, stripped of any spark. And through it all, she thought of Lisa. That alone was enough to sour the act, but even without Lisa’s ghost in the room, Carla doubted it would have been any different.

Now, in the quiet aftermath, the mistake pressed down on her like a weight. She could see it clearly, though she knew Peter would see something else. To him, tonight might feel like the start of something again. To her, it was nothing but proof of how lost she really was.

She rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, her elbows pressed into her thighs and her hands tangled in her hair. This had not been her smartest decision. A flight booked on a whim, a drunken impulse she could not take back. She had sobered up by the time she reached the airport, but once she was seated on the plane, reality gave way to distraction. Nearly three hours in the air meant an endless supply of those miniature bottles of vodka, each one making her choice feel less reckless and more like a grand adventure.

The haze carried her from the airport to the back seat of a taxi, and before she had time to second-guess herself, she was standing at his door. In that moment, the alcohol convinced her everything was fine, everything was right, everything was meant to be. Now, in the silence of this unfamiliar room, she understood exactly how wrong she had been.

She had left without explanation, without even a hurried message. Her phone told the story she had avoided: a few texts from Betsy, two missed calls from Lisa, several from Ryan, and an endless flood from Michelle. Some messages were sharp, filled with anger and urgency. Others were worse, voicemails that dripped with disappointment and fear.

She knew she should reply. She knew she should at least let one of them know where she was. Yet the thought of their voices, their inevitable questions and judgments, was unbearable. They would remind her of everything she already knew. They would hold a mirror to the mistakes she was already punishing herself for. What she needed now was not another verdict. What she needed was the space to decide if she could forgive herself.

A kiss brushed her shoulder and Peter’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Come back to bed, love. We can pick up where we left off.”

Carla pulled herself free and stood, staring around the bedroom as if she had woken up in the wrong place. Her suitcase sat untouched in the corner, still packed. Clothes were scattered across the floor, evidence of decisions she wished she had not made. Her throat tightened.

“This isn’t it, Peter. This isn’t where I need to be.”

He sat up, frowning.

“What are you talking about? Course it is. You came all this way for me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I came here because I was drunk, because I was upset, because I thought running away might fix something. But it hasn’t, has it? It’s made everything worse. I need to go home. I need to talk to...never mind I just need to go home.”

“Carla…” He reached out, his voice softening. “Come back to bed. Don’t do this.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” His frustration flickered. “You’re here. With me. And it meant something. Don’t pretend it didn’t.”

She looked at him then, eyes tired but burning.

“Peter, it wasn’t fate or destiny or whatever story you want to tell yourself. It was vodka. It was me, punishing myself. Because that’s what I do. I’m Carla Connor, the eternal second choice. Nobody puts me first. You’d think I’d be numb to it by now, but this time…” Her voice cracked before she steadied it. “This time it hurt in a way I didn’t see coming.”

He leaned forward, confusion clouding his face.

“Who’s not put you first? Tell me, Carla. Why are you carrying this on your own?”

She laughed once, bitter and short.

“It doesn’t matter. It never matters, does it? All that matters is I can’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry I dragged you into this shit show that is my life. Thank you for being there, but it ends here. I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t go,” Peter said quickly, his voice low but urgent. “Stay. We can start fresh. Just us. No ghosts, no skeletons from the past. Just me and you. We were great together, Carla, and we both know it.”

Carla froze, his words pulling her back for a second. Somewhere deep down, beneath all the mess, there was truth in what he said. Once, a lifetime ago, they had been good together. She remembered the rush, the spark, the way it felt when it was them against the world. But memory was a cruel thing. For every high, there was a low. For every moment of passion, there was a fight that cut too deep. The drinking, the lies, the cheating, the baby they lost, the darkness that came after the murder—it had all been part of them too.

Yes, they had been good, but they had also been poisonous. They knew how to love each other, but they also knew how to destroy each other. She had shrunk herself down to fit him, to be what she thought he wanted. To be needed, rather than wanted. To be the version of Carla that might keep him from slipping, though she never really managed it.

And then there was Lisa. Lisa never asked her to change. Never expected her to be anyone but herself. When it was just the two of them, Lisa would laugh and say that was her favourite Carla Connor. Not the boss behind the desk, not the sharp-tongued friend who could cut a room with one look, not the woman who sacrificed herself to put everyone else first. Just Carla. Stripped back, vulnerable, messy, complicated. Lisa loved that Carla.

Carla swallowed hard, her chest tight. But Lisa wasn’t hers anymore, was she? Lisa had Bridget now. She had moved on, carved herself a life where Carla didn’t fit. The thought of it pressed sharp and deep, like a knife to the heart.

She looked at Peter, who was still watching her with that familiar mix of desperation and hope. Once, that look might have made her stay. But not tonight. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry. I need to go,” Carla said quickly, tugging her clothes back on with shaking hands. “Thank you, I mean it, but this can never happen again.”

Peter sat up, eyes fixed on her. “What if I come with you? What if we go back home together and give it another go? We can start fresh, rebuild what we had. I love you, Carla. I’ve never stopped.”

She paused, pulling on her jacket, and met his gaze. “Peter, it doesn’t matter where we are in the world. We won’t ever work. We could be stuck on a deserted island, just us, and you would still find a way to hurt me. And I would find a way to hurt you back. We don’t need other people in our beds to destroy each other. We’ve always managed that just fine. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

“Carla, please,” his voice cracked, desperation rising. “Just stay. We can talk. We can figure this out together. What’s waiting for you back in Weatherfield? You said yourself nobody there puts you first. But I can. I can put you first. I can love you like you deserve to be loved. I can do that for you.”

She turned away, the suitcase handle clutched tight in her hand. “Peter… this, us, it would never work.”

“Why not? How do you know if we don’t give it another try?”

Her voice broke into a shout before she could stop it. “Because I’m in love with someone else!”

The words hung heavy in the air. He went still, silent, the fight gone from his eyes. She didn’t add anything more. Neither of them did.

Carla lowered her gaze and rolled her suitcase across the floor. She wheeled it out of the bedroom, through the living room, and into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her and she dropped to the ground as if her legs had given way. It felt like the weight she had been carrying for so long had finally slipped free, crashing down around her.

She was in love with Lisa. Not just fond of her, not just tangled in feelings that blurred the line between friendship and something more. This was love, real and raw and terrifying. She hadn’t just fallen—she had been swept away, head over heels, and the realisation hit with a force that left her trembling on the floor.

Now she had to do something with it. She had been honest with herself at last, but that was only half the battle. She needed to tell Lisa, to lay her heart bare, and to pray it wasn’t already too late. First, though, she needed to find the strength to stand up.

Chapter Text

“She’s gone, Bets. I don’t know what more to do,” Lisa sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had pressed them down.

“It’s not that simple, Mum,” Betsy said firmly before sitting down next to Lisa. “You need to fight for her.”

“Bets, she won’t answer the phone. Nobody knows where she is. I can’t fight for someone when I don’t even know where they are.” Lisa’s voice cracked, her hands twisting restlessly in her lap.

Without another word, Betsy picked up Lisa’s phone and dialled Carla’s number. She set it to loudspeaker, and together they listened to the hollow ringing that ended in the mechanical voice of voicemail.

Lisa let out a long, shaky breath. “See? She doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve fucked up. I wish I’d figured out my feelings sooner… then maybe none of this would have happened.” Her voice broke into a whisper. “I’ve ruined it.”

Betsy shifted in her seat closer to Lisa, close enough that their shoulders brushed. 

“Mum, listen to me. Carla has feelings for you. People don’t just disappear from someone’s life overnight if they don’t care. She’s hurting, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s gone forever. She needs space right now, but that doesn’t mean she won’t come back.”

Lisa stared down at her hands, eyes glassy. “But what if she doesn’t?”

Betsy reached over and took her mother’s hand, squeezing it. “Then you keep showing her you’re here. Even if she doesn’t answer, keep leaving messages. Send her texts, even if she doesn’t reply. Not every fight is about grand gestures, Mum. Sometimes it’s about not giving up when the other person needs time.”

Lisa shook her head. “What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” Betsy said, her tone unwavering. “Carla just needs to see that you’re not walking away. People who matter don’t disappear forever, Mum. She’ll come back. You just can’t lose faith before she does.”

Lisa wiped at her eyes with the heel of her palm, but the tears only smeared across her cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say anymore. Every time I hear that voicemail, it feels like she’s further away.”

Betsy handed the phone back to her. “Then you keep trying. Mum, silence doesn’t mean it’s over—it just means she isn’t ready. Don’t let that scare you into giving up.”

Lisa hesitated, her thumb hovering over Carla’s name in her contacts. With a shaky breath, she pressed call again. The same hollow ringing filled the room, followed by voicemail. Lisa’s heart sank as the automated voice prompted her.

She swallowed, then spoke into the emptiness. “Carla, please… just come home. We need to talk. I know I caused this, I know I fucked up, but I can’t put it right if you won’t let me. Please, I’m begging you. Come home.” Her voice cracked. “That’s all I’m asking.” She ended the call, staring at the phone in her hand as though it might break apart.

Betsy touched her arm gently. “Again.”

Lisa gave her a helpless look. “She won’t pick up.”

“Then she’ll keep hearing your voice until she knows you mean it.”

Lisa pressed call once more. Straight to voicemail. She didn’t trust her voice this time, so she let the call disconnect and started typing instead. Her fingers trembled as she wrote.

Lisa: Carla, please come home. We need to talk. I know this is my fault and I’m so sorry for all of it. 

She pressed send, then quickly typed again. 

Lisa:I should have been honest sooner. I should have been braver. Please give me the chance to put things right. 

Her throat burned as she added one more. 

Lisa:I don’t care how long it takes. I just need you to come back so we can talk properly. Please.

She locked the phone and clutched it tight against her chest, eyes shut as if she were making a wish.

“I don’t know if she’ll even read them,” Lisa whispered.

“She will,” Betsy said quietly, leaning into her. “She might not be ready to answer, but she’ll read them. And when she does, she’ll see you’re still here—that you’re not running anymore.”

For a long while, they sat in silence, Lisa staring at the darkened phone screen, waiting for something—anything. No reply came, no buzz, no light. But with Betsy’s head against her shoulder, Lisa let herself believe that maybe it wasn’t over yet.

The next morning came like a punishment. Lisa hadn’t slept a wink—she’d laid awake staring at her phone, praying for a reply from Carla that never came. By the time her alarm blared, her head was pounding and her chest felt bruised from holding back tears.

She quickly got dressed, checked her phone one last time—still nothing—and shoved it in her pocket. Betsy’s hug before she left lingered in her mind, but even that small comfort couldn’t soften the dread crawling under her skin.

At the station, the smell of stale coffee and disinfectant hung in the air. The fluorescent lights felt too harsh, drilling into her temples. Lisa logged onto her computer, forcing herself to skim through the case notes waiting on her desk. Words swam on the screen.

“Morning, Sarge,” Kit called as she dropped a file onto Lisa’s desk. “You look like death warmed up. Don’t tell me you’ve been out all night again.”

Lisa’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

Kit leaned on the edge of the desk, smirking. “Fine? You’ve got bags under your eyes big enough to smuggle contraband. What’s going on? Don’t tell me it’s another late-night date.”

The words struck too close to home. Lisa’s patience snapped. “For God’s sake, Kit, not everything is a bloody joke. Just drop it, alright?”

“Whoa,” Kit said after a second, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Easy. Didn’t realise I’d touched a nerve.”

Lisa squeezed her eyes shut for a second, dragging in a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Her voice wavered, and she cut it off, busying herself with the file in front of her, though she couldn’t see the words on the page.

Kit hesitated, then dropped her voice. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve been… off. For a while now.”

Lisa nodded stiffly without looking up. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Kit hovered a moment longer before backing off, but Lisa could feel her colleague’s gaze on her, heavy and suspicious. She kept her eyes on the papers in front of her, her pulse thudding in her ears.

Carla’s name was on her tongue, wanting to be spoken, wanting to explain everything. But Kit didn’t know. Nobody at the station knew. And right now, Lisa couldn’t bear the thought of saying it out loud.

So instead, she swallowed the truth and buried herself in work

Lisa sat staring at her phone. There was still no word from Carla. She wanted to know where she was, whether she was safe, whether she was even thinking about her. 

She might not know where Carla was but at least she had managed to talk to Bridget. The air was cleared, the apologies made, and Bridget had been quick to reassure her. She had even admitted that she got a sense from Carla that there was more to Lisa and Carla’s connection than just friendship, that maybe jealousy had been simmering beneath the surface all along. Lisa hadn’t thought they were being obvious, but perhaps they had been naïve. Perhaps everyone else had seen what they were still too afraid to name.

The uncertainty weighed heavily on her. She needed to see her, to talk to her face to face, but the distance between them felt impossible to bridge. With a sigh, Lisa picked up her phone, ready to try Carla’s number one more time.

Before she could press the button, the screen lit up. Betsy was calling.

Lisa answered quickly. “Bets, everything okay?”

“You should probably come home,” Betsy said. Her voice was low, careful.

Lisa’s chest tightened. “What’s wrong?”

There was a pause before Betsy replied. “It’s Carla.”

Lisa didn’t ask anything else. She ended the call, grabbed her keys and shot out of the office. The station blurred around her as she pushed past colleagues, ignoring the questions in their eyes. She reached her car, unlocked it with shaking hands and slid into the driver’s seat.

Her thoughts spiraled as she sped out of the car park. What had happened to Carla? Why had Betsy sounded like that? She needed answers, she needed to hear Carla’s voice. Against her better judgment, she reached for her phone.

Her gaze left the road for a second. Just one second.

By the time her eyes flicked back up, it was too late. The van was there, filling her vision, and then everything fractured into a deafening impact. Darkness swallowed her before she could even draw breath.

Chapter Text

Carla rolled over, her head pounding so hard it felt like her pulse was trying to split her skull in two. She blinked against the dull light pressing through the curtains, trying to bring the room into focus. Nothing made sense at first. Then fragments of the night before began sliding back into her memory.

She remembered the quiet of her flat. The wine bottle on the table. The vodka that followed when the wine wasn’t enough. She hadn’t been celebrating. She had been working up the courage, pouring strength into her glass because she didn’t know how else to face Lisa. The thought of confessing her feelings had filled her chest with both longing and terror. She wanted Lisa to know the truth, but the possibility of rejection gnawed at her so fiercely that she had needed to drown it. By the time she had stumbled out into the morning, all she carried with her was liquid courage and blurred thoughts.

Her vision steadied just enough to register a figure sitting in the corner. Blonde hair, arms folded, watching her.

“There’s some water and painkillers on the table.”

Carla pushed herself upright, every muscle aching in protest. She grabbed the glass with shaky fingers, took a cautious sip, then swallowed the tablets. Her throat felt raw, as if every swallow of alcohol had left scars.

“Do I even want to know?” she muttered.

The blonde leaned forward slightly. “You showed up here drunk out of your mind, yelling for Mum and saying you had to tell her you were in love with her.”

Carla froze, the water suddenly heavy in her stomach. She glanced up, trying to read her expression. “You don’t seem at all surprised about that.”

“I’m not,” she replied simply. “Mum told me about you two. So no, it doesn’t shock me. What does shock me is that you disappeared. She’s been worried sick.”

Carla pressed her lips together. Her first instinct was to explain—that every glass she drank had been tipped back because she couldn’t imagine Lisa looking at her and saying no. That she had left because she was terrified of what the truth would do to them both. But all of that felt messy, too much to confess. “I just needed space,” she said quietly, hoping it would be enough.

The blonde stood, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I called Mum a couple of hours ago. I thought she’d be home by now to see you.” She headed into the kitchen, murmuring something about checking her phone.

Carla leaned back against the sofa cushions, letting her head fall into her hands. She had wanted courage, but she hadn’t wanted to wake up like this. And she certainly hadn’t wanted Lisa’s daughter to see her like this—broken, afraid, drowning in her own feelings.

Then a scream cut through the air.

Carla’s body moved before her brain caught up. She stumbled to her feet, ignoring the wave of nausea, and rushed into the kitchen. “Betsy, what’s wrong?”

Betsy, looked up, her face pale, her hand shaking as she held the phone. “It’s Mum. She’s been in an accident. She’s in the hospital.”

Carla’s knees buckled. For a moment she was sure the world had tilted off its axis. Her stomach twisted violently and she thought she might be sick right there on the floor. She forced herself to breathe, dragging in sharp gulps of air that scraped at her throat. Then, with every ounce of willpower she had left, she pulled herself upright and reached for Betsy. She wrapped an arm around her, grounding them both.

“She’s going to be okay,” Carla said, though her voice trembled.

Betsy’s eyes were wet, wide with fear. “How do you know that?”

Carla’s jaw tightened. “Because she has to be.”

The taxi ride to the hospital felt like torture, every second stretching into hours. Betsy had offered to drive, but she hadn’t passed her test yet, and Carla couldn’t risk her behind the wheel in this state. Driving herself was out of the question too—her body still reeked of alcohol, and her hands shook too much to even hold her phone steady. So they sat in the back of the taxi, side by side, the silence between them heavy and raw.

Carla stared out of the window, her reflection pale and hollow in the glass. Each street they passed brought her closer to Lisa, closer to the truth she both craved and feared. The only thing she knew for certain was that nothing else mattered anymore. Not the hangover. Not the fear of rejection. Not the hours she had wasted drinking herself into courage. The only thing that mattered was Lisa.

The taxi rolled to a stop outside the hospital. Carla fumbled with her purse, shoving notes at the driver with trembling hands before forcing herself out of the car. The air hit her like a slap—cold, sharp, far too real. Betsy was already at her side, and together they hurried through the sliding doors into the bright sterility of the reception area.

Betsy gave Lisa’s name in a voice that shook despite her best efforts to sound steady. The nurse behind the desk glanced at her screen, typed something quickly, and pointed them toward ICU.

Carla’s stomach dropped. Intensive Care. The words themselves felt like a sentence.

They rushed down the corridor, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly, their shoes squeaking against the polished floor. Betsy pushed the double doors open, her voice cracking as she gave Lisa’s name again to another nurse, who nodded and guided her toward a private room.

Carla, however, couldn’t follow. Her legs betrayed her, rooted to the spot as a wave of dizziness swept through her. The walls seemed to tilt and blur, her pulse roaring in her ears. Before she could stop it, she grabbed for the sick bowl on a nearby stand and retched violently, emptying the entire contents of her stomach.

Betsy spun back, panic flashing across her face. “Carla!”

Carla waved her off weakly, tears stinging her eyes as she gasped for air. “I’m okay,” she managed between breaths, her voice hoarse. “Go. Go be with your mum. Once I’m done, I’ll be right there with you.”

Reluctantly, Betsy nodded and hurried down the corridor, glancing back over her shoulder as though torn in two.

Carla sank onto a nearby chair, clutching the bowl like an anchor. Her body shook with the aftermath of sickness, sweat prickling her temples. Shame clawed at her chest. This was her fault. She had done this to herself. She had drowned her fear in drink when she should have been strong, and now, at the very moment Lisa needed her most, she was a wreck in a hospital hallway.

But there was no alcohol left in her anymore. Not really. The sickness had purged it from her body, and the thought of losing Lisa before she ever got the chance to confess her feelings had burned the rest away. She was sober now. Painfully, brutally sober.

Carla took a deep breath, forcing herself upright on unsteady legs. Her knees felt like glass, fragile and trembling, but she steadied herself against the wall and began moving forward. Every step toward Lisa’s room was a battle against the weight of her guilt, her fear, her love.

Carla stopped just short of the doorway, her hand pressed flat against the cool wall. Her heart hammered so loudly it drowned out the muffled sounds of machines and voices beyond the door. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, terrified of what she might see. She closed her eyes, dragged in a shaky breath, and forced her body to move.

Her fingers curled around the handle and she pushed the door open.

The world inside the room seemed to shrink down to one thing—Lisa.

She lay motionless on the hospital bed. The rise and fall of her chest was subtle, fragile, but it was there. Carla’s eyes swept across her, drinking in every detail. 

“What’s the damage?” Carla whispered, her voice hoarse, directed more to the nurse at Lisa’s side than anyone else.

The nurse glanced up from the monitor, her expression calm but firm. “She suffered a bleed on the brain. They had to operate to relieve the pressure. She also has a couple of broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, and a broken cheekbone. But everything else looks stable. She’s resting now.”

Carla’s knees nearly buckled again. A bleed on the brain. Surgery. The words echoed inside her skull. Yet the nurse’s final reassurance—stable—was the lifeline she clung to. She stepped closer to the bed, fingers trembling as she hovered them just above Lisa’s hand, not quite daring to touch her.

The sight of her like this twisted something deep inside Carla. Relief warred with guilt, love tangled with fear, but one truth rang clear above all the noise: she couldn’t waste another second.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” Betsy asked, her voice breaking the fragile silence that had settled over the room.

Carla shook her head, still watching the steady rise and fall of Lisa’s chest. “You don’t need to leave. She would want you here.”

“I’m only going to get a drink. I’ll bring you back a coffee,” Betsy promised gently. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lisa’s head, lingering there for a moment before straightening and slipping quietly from the room.

The nurse gave Carla a reassuring glance before following Betsy out, leaving her alone with Lisa. The soft beeping of the monitor filled the silence, a constant reminder that life was still tethered here, fragile but unbroken.

Carla let out a shaky laugh, though it cracked into something closer to a sob. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but you didn’t need to end up in hospital just to get my attention.” Her throat tightened, her voice softening as she stepped closer. “Oh, baby… we’ve made a right mess of this.”

She lowered herself into the chair by the bed and reached for Lisa’s hand, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around it. She pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, holding it there as though she could breathe life back into her.

“You need to wake up,” Carla whispered against her skin. “I need to apologise. We really fucked up, Lisa. I hate that it ended this way. I hate that you’ve got a girlfriend. I hate that I slept with Peter. God, I hate myself for that.” Her voice cracked, raw with honesty. “But it made me realise just how much…”

The words lodged in her throat. Confession balanced on the edge of her tongue, heavy, aching to be spoken. But she swallowed it down. Lisa had Bridget. To pour her heart out now, while Lisa lay unconscious and unable to respond, felt wrong.

Carla pressed Lisa’s hand more firmly between both of hers, her tears slipping free and dampening her cheeks. “Not now,” she whispered. “Not like this. You need to wake up first. You need to look at me when I say it. I need to know you’re okay before I tell you everything.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against Lisa’s arm, clinging to the faint warmth of her skin. “So you fight, okay? You fight and you wake up, because I’m not losing you. Not like this.”

A fresh wave of nausea surged through Carla, but this time she forced it down, swallowing hard until the feeling eased. Her stomach twisted in protest, but she refused to let it win. She wasn’t sure how her body had managed to drink itself half to death and then sober up in such a short span of time. Maybe it wasn’t sobriety at all, just adrenaline cutting through the fog. Or maybe it was the sheer terror of sitting here, knowing Lisa’s life dangled in uncertainty.

The thought of never speaking to her again, never touching her, never tasting her lips, made Carla’s chest ache so fiercely she thought it might split her open.

She slid her chair closer and lowered her head onto the edge of the bed, clutching Lisa’s arm gently, as though afraid her touch might shatter her. For a long moment, Carla let her eyes fall closed. She let herself imagine—just for a minute—that they weren’t here in a hospital room surrounded by wires and machines.

In her mind, it was just the two of them again, lying across Carla’s bed on a lazy afternoon. No secrets. No broken promises. No mistakes. Just laughter and whispered conversations that stretched late into the night. Carla remembered how safe it had felt, how easy. Before they crossed the line, before they slept together, back when friendship had been enough to carry them.

A lump formed in her throat. She would give anything to go back to that. To strip everything away—the fear, the mistakes, the betrayals—if it meant Lisa was beside her again, smiling the way she used to, looking at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

Carla’s grip on Lisa’s arm tightened, her tears hot against the blanket. “Come back to me,” she whispered. “Please. Just come back.”

The room was quiet except for the soft, steady rhythm of the machines. Carla’s head still rested on the bed, her fingers entwined with Lisa’s. She could almost trick herself into believing Lisa was only sleeping, that any second she’d stir and give one of those tired smiles that always made Carla’s chest tighten.

Her lips trembled as the words slipped free, words she had never dared say aloud. “I love you, Lis. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself. I tried to bury it, tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. It matters more than anything.”

She squeezed Lisa’s hand gently, blinking through the blur of tears. “I hate the way things turned out. I hate that I let my fear ruin us. I hate that I hurt you, and I hate myself for what I did with Peter. I thought I’d lost you for good, and maybe I have. Maybe you’re happy with Bridget, and maybe I don’t deserve a second chance, but—” her voice cracked, breaking on the weight of it— “but I can’t stop feeling this way. You’re it for me, Lisa. You always have been.”

The door creaked softly. Carla’s head snapped up, wiping her eyes quickly, but Betsy was already there, holding two coffees, frozen just inside the room.

“You… you really feel that way? I just thought you were saying it because you were drunk. But you really love mum?”Betsy asked.

 “Yes. But it doesn’t matter, Betsy. She has Bridget now. She deserves to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.”

Betsy set the cups down on the side table, her gaze fixed on Carla with something between surprise and sympathy. “Carla… Mum and Bridget are over. Bridget heard us talking and well she left.”

For a minute, Carla couldn’t move. Her chest tightened, her breath catching as hope and fear collided inside her. She looked back at Lisa, at the woman lying so still and broken on the hospital bed, and the weight of what Betsy had said settled deep in her bones.

“Really?” Carla breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” Betsy said softly. “I don’t know all the details, but I know she went looking for you. She wanted to talk, to tell you she had feelings for you. But you weren’t there.”

Carla’s chest constricted, guilt clawing its way up her throat. “I know… and I’m sorry. Maybe if I’d been home, we could have talked. Maybe we’d have figured it out, maybe we’d have been together. And you wouldn’t have called her, and she wouldn’t have been driving, and she wouldn’t have crashed. This is all my fault.”

Betsy’s eyes softened as she shook her head. “Carla, you can’t know that. Mum was still at work. Even if you’d been home, she still might have come back the same way, at the same time. She still might have been hit. None of this is your fault.”

“We don’t know that.” Her voice cracked as she pushed herself up from the chair, the weight of guilt too heavy to bear. “I should go.”

“Don’t.”

The single word cut through the air, fragile but unmistakable.

Carla froze. Her whole body spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

Lisa’s eyes were fluttering open, slow and heavy, but alive. Carla stared, rooted to the spot, as those familiar eyes—dazed, unfocused, but there—found her.

“Don’t what?” Carla asked, her voice trembling.

“Don’t go,” Lisa breathed, her words raspy but clear enough to cut straight through Carla.

“You’re awake,” Carla whispered.

“Yes,” Lisa murmured, her eyes heavy but open, truly open.

“How do you feel?” Betsy asked quickly, stepping closer to the bed.

Lisa let out a groan that was half pain, half sarcasm. “Like I’ve been hit by a van.”

Despite everything, Betsy let out a shaky laugh. “I’ll give you both a minute.” She leaned down, kissed her mum’s forehead gently, and then slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence followed, thick and charged. Carla stayed where she was, hovering awkwardly, her body torn between the urge to rush forward and the fear that she no longer belonged there. Her hands shook at her sides, and her heart hammered so hard it felt like it might break through her ribs.

Lisa tilted her head slightly, her gaze finding Carla’s with quiet insistence. “Come sit.”

Carla hesitated, then lowered herself back into the chair. This time, she didn’t sit as close as before. She kept a careful distance, her body taut with restraint. When Lisa had been unconscious, it had been easier to touch her, to hold her hand, to whisper truths she might never hear. Now, with those familiar eyes watching her, it felt dangerous.

She folded her hands tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on them rather than Lisa. She was scared—scared of what Lisa remembered, scared of what she felt, scared that maybe the truth she’d clung to all this time had slipped away.

Carla sat stiffly in the chair, her eyes fixed on her clasped hands, afraid to look too long at Lisa in case everything she wanted slipped further out of reach.

Then Lisa moved. It was only a small shift, her fingers twitching against the blanket, but her eyes never left Carla’s face. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” she asked.

Carla’s throat tightened. “I didn’t want to—” She stopped, searching for words that didn’t sound like excuses. “I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“You never crowd me,” Lisa whispered. Her hand lifted, trembling slightly, and reached across the small gap between them. Carla stared at it, stunned, before carefully taking it in her own. The warmth of Lisa’s skin against hers was both grounding and devastating.

Lisa’s eyes softened. “Where did you go, Carla? Why did you leave?”

The question hit like a blow. Carla swallowed hard, guilt rushing up hot and sharp. She had rehearsed so many lies, so many half-truths, but sitting here, looking into those eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to use any of them.

“I… needed space,” Carla said quietly, her voice breaking. “I was scared. Scared of how much I felt, scared you didn’t feel the same, scared I’d ruin everything. So I ran. And I shouldn’t have.” She blinked quickly, fighting back tears. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve been here.”

Lisa studied her, her expression unreadable, though her thumb brushed gently against Carla’s hand, a small gesture that kept her from falling apart completely.

“Well, what do you feel?” Lisa asked. Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the intensity in her eyes.

Carla’s lips parted, then closed again. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to spill everything—the nights she lay awake thinking about Lisa, the way her chest tightened every time she smiled, the jealousy that had eaten her alive when Bridget was around. All of it. But the words tangled, knotted too tightly to escape.

“Everything,” Carla finally whispered. It was the only word she could manage, the only one big enough to cover the storm inside her.

Her chest heaved as silence fell again. She dropped her gaze, her hands tightening around Lisa’s as though holding on might steady her. Thoughts and feelings spun so wildly in her head she couldn’t catch a single one long enough to shape it into something real. She wanted to tell Lisa she loved her. She wanted to beg for forgiveness. She wanted to promise she would never run again.

But her throat closed up, her courage withered, and she couldn’t force any of it past her lips.

Lisa didn’t let go. Instead, her fingers curled more firmly around Carla’s, grounding her.

Lisa’s grip tightened ever so slightly, her thumb brushing against Carla’s skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Everything is a lot to carry,” she murmured, her eyes searching Carla’s face. “You don’t have to give me all of it at once, but… tell me something. Tell me what everything means to you.”

Carla’s breath hitched. Her instinct was to retreat, to bury the words under silence the way she always had, but the tenderness in Lisa’s voice left her nowhere to hide. She forced herself to lift her gaze, to meet those tired but steady eyes.

“It means I think about you every day,” Carla said finally, the confession trembling on her lips. “It means I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else, even though I had no right to feel that way. It means I hate myself for the mistakes I made, but I’d make myself better if it meant you’d give me another chance. It means…” She stopped, her throat thick, the final words pressing against her ribs like they were trapped inside her.

Lisa’s expression softened, patient, encouraging. “It means what?”

Carla blinked rapidly, her chest aching. “It means I love you, I'm in love with you”  she whispered, finally letting the words escape.

The words hung in the air between them, fragile and raw. Carla’s chest heaved, and she pressed her forehead lightly against Lisa’s arm, as if the physical contact could steady the storm raging inside her. She didn’t dare look up. Her heart raced in a way that was almost painful, her mind spinning through every possible outcome. What if Lisa didn’t feel the same? What if this destroyed the fragile bond they were trying to rebuild?

Minutes—or maybe seconds—passed, and Carla stayed frozen, letting the tension stretch. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe normally, as the weight of finally admitting the truth pressed down on her like a tidal wave. The room seemed impossibly quiet, filled only with the soft rhythm of Lisa’s breath and the sound of Carla’s racing heart.

Then, Lisa moved slightly, as best she could,closing the gap between them. Her lips brushed against Carla’s in a tentative, feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down Carla’s spine. Time slowed, and every worry, every fear, every regret melted away in that single, perfect moment.

Carla’s hands moved instinctively, cradling Lisa’s face gently as she returned the kiss, deeper this time, full of everything she had been holding back. When they finally pulled apart, just slightly, their foreheads rested against each other. Neither spoke, but neither needed to. The unspoken truths, the confessions, and the long-held love between them were all finally out in the open.

And for the first time in a long while, Carla felt like she was home.

Chapter Text

Six days. Six long, dragging days Lisa had been stuck in the hospital, and every single one had felt like a punishment. She was restless now, desperate to go home, aching for the familiar comfort of her own bed. A bed big enough for two—big enough for Carla, who had been told off almost daily by nurses for daring to climb in beside her.

Carla had nearly gotten herself banned from visiting altogether after one particularly fiery outburst. When a nurse tried to shoo her out of the bed again, Carla snapped, “I pay my taxes, which means I pay your wages—so technically, I’m your boss. And if I want to lie down with my girlfriend, I will.” The entire ward had gone silent. Lisa wanted to laugh and groan all at once, because she and Carla hadn’t even had that conversation yet. The what-are-we, are-we-official, labels-and-all conversation.

But how could they? Lisa’s days were swallowed up by doctors, medications, and the kind of exhaustion that seeped into her bones, while Carla’s life had been consumed by a new client at work—demanding, relentless, always needing more. If Carla wasn’t buried in the factory or locked in endless meetings, she was here at the hospital, aggravating the staff just to be close to Lisa.

And in the quiet moments, when the room was dark and the machines beeped softly, Lisa realised she didn’t mind. Not the scolding, not the stares, not even the awkwardness of the conversation they hadn’t had yet. What mattered was that Carla kept showing up.

And speaking of the factory owner—here she was now. Carla stepped into the ward with the kind of presence that drew every pair of eyes her way. The nurses glanced up immediately, a mix of weariness and resignation written across their faces.

“Don’t worry,” Carla said before anyone could scold her, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’ve got no intention of climbing into bed today. This one’s been discharged, so I’m here to take her home.”

Lisa was certain she heard one of the nurses mutter, thank God, under her breath.

Carla strolled to the end of the bed. She stopped, looked at Lisa, and her stern businesswoman face melted into a smile. “Ready to get out of here?”

“You have no idea,” Lisa sighed, her whole body aching for freedom.

“Oh, I’ve got more than an idea,” Carla countered smoothly. “You’ve been calling and texting me non-stop about how much you want your own bed. Trust me, I’ve been keeping count.” She glanced toward the nurses’ station. “So, what’s the hold-up? Are we waiting on paperwork, or are we free?”

“All done,” Lisa replied. “Doctor came by a few hours ago and said I was cleared to leave.”

Carla’s smile faltered into a frown. “A few hours? And you didn’t call me? I would’ve been here the second you were discharged.”

Lisa lowered her gaze, suddenly fascinated with the creases in the hospital blanket. “You were busy with that client. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I wouldn’t have been disturbed,” Carla said, softening as she reached for Lisa’s hand. “You, my love, are the most important person to me. Work can wait. Mr James can wait. I would have been here straight away — you could’ve been back in your own bed hours ago.”

Lisa felt heat rise across her cheeks. She still had to pinch herself sometimes to prove Carla was real, that Carla was hers — that they’d finally admitted what they felt. 

“Okay,” Lisa said, voice small and honest. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called you. This… us… it’s new to me, and I don’t really know how to do this whole relationship thing. It's been a long time, It’ll take me a little time to figure it out.”

Carla’s thumb stroked the back of Lisa’s hand in a calm, steady rhythm. “Take all the time you need,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll learn it together — awkward conversations, missed calls, the lot. And if you need me to be bossy about things like phone calls, I’ll be bossy.” 

Lisa laughed, a brief, relieved sound that felt like the first real breath she’d taken in days. For the first time since she’d been admitted, the thought of going home didn’t feel frightening — just full of small, ordinary possibilities: two mugs on the bedside table, a familiar duvet, Carla’s boots in the hallway and, maybe one day soon, fewer unsaid words between them.

An hour later, they were back home. Lisa settled onto the sofa, a cup of tea in hand, scrolling through Netflix, while Carla lingered in the kitchen, speaking on the phone for what felt like the tenth time. Her client sounded like a handful, but he was bringing significant business her way, so Lisa knew she had to grin and bear it.

Lisa flicked on Friends. She didn’t want anything heavy or that required her full attention; she was still so exhausted that it wouldn’t matter if she fell asleep. Halfway through the first episode, Carla finally joined her.

“The phone is off,” Carla said, taking a seat and placing Lisa’s legs on her lap. “I’m all yours.”

“You don’t need to do that. I know work is impossible at the moment and it needs your full attention,” Lisa replied.

“I’ve told Sarah to handle everything. I’m done. I’m taking the next two days off, officially off. I’ve put up my out-of-office email, and I told Mr. James that everything is under control. I’ll speak to him on Monday. You have my absolute, undivided attention.”

Lisa wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to being put first, and it was going to take some getting used to.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“What are you thanking me for? I’m your girlfriend. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Shit, have I overstepped?” Carla asked, attempting to stand, but Lisa didn’t move her legs.

“No, you haven’t overstepped. We just didn’t have the conversation before, and now that I’m saying it out loud, I sound stupid. I love you, and you love me, so what else would we be to each other other than girlfriends? I’m just worried.”

“Worried about what?”

Lisa hesitated. She didn’t want to upset Carla, but she also knew they couldn’t start this unless they were fully open and honest with each other.

“Well… this. Us. It’s new. You’ve never been in a relationship with a woman. Aren’t you worried about what people will think? The judgment, the gossip?”

“Baby, I’ve lived on the street for twenty years. I’ve had five marriages, my fair share of scraps, drama. Chaos follows me wherever I go. I’m not going to let a little gossip stop me from being happy, from being with you. I love you, Lisa Swain, and I’m not ashamed of that. I mean, I spent the past five days arguing with nurses because they wouldn’t let me lie in bed with you. Does that sound like a woman who’s ashamed or gives two fucks about what other people think? There are only two people whose opinions matter: yours and Betsy’s.”

Lisa felt a weight lift from her chest at Carla’s words, though a flutter of nervousness still lingered. She had spent so long protecting herself, keeping her walls high, that the idea of someone truly choosing her—without hesitation or shame—felt almost unreal.

“I… I’ve never felt that way before,” Lisa admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, someone putting me first like this, without any doubt or second-guessing. It’s… it’s terrifying and amazing at the same time.”

Carla smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Lisa’s face. “Good. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to feel. Love isn’t supposed to be easy, but it should feel like coming home. And for what it’s worth, you’re not alone in feeling scared.”

Lisa relaxed slightly, letting her head rest against Carla’s shoulder. The warmth of her touch, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, it all made her feel… safe. “I guess I just worry about messing it up,” she murmured.

“You won’t,” Carla said firmly, tilting Lisa’s chin up so she could meet her eyes. “We figure it out together. That’s what being a team is about. No judgment, no secrets, just… us.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the sound of the Friends theme tune fading into the background. Carla’s fingers traced gentle patterns on Lisa’s legs, and Lisa let herself sink fully into the feeling, letting the tension and exhaustion of the day melt away.

“Can I tell you something?” Lisa asked.

“Anything,” Carla replied.

“I think… I think I’ve wanted this—for someone to choose me—without conditions—for a long time. And I think I’ve been too scared to admit it to myself. But being here with you, it feels right.”

Carla leaned down and kissed her forehead, then pressed her lips to Lisa’s temple. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not with me. We’ll take it one day at a time, together. No rushing, no pressure. Just us.”

For the first time in years, Lisa allowed herself to imagine a life not defined by fear, but by love.

Chapter Text

“So, you and Lisa?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” Carla replied, meeting his eyes. “We’re together. Is that okay?”

Ryan had suspected for a couple of weeks. Carla had been staying at Lisa’s most nights, and when she did come home, it was usually just to grab clothes or a shower before vanishing again. Still, this was the first time she’d spoken the words out loud.

“Does she make you happy?” he asked.

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” Carla admitted. Her voice carried both relief and vulnerability, as though she was finally setting down a heavy weight.

Ryan leaned back against the back of the couch, processing. “Then I’m happy for you. Honestly, I’m a little surprised, but… I don’t know. The way you used to talk about Susie, I always wondered if you two had been more than just friends.”

Carla laughed and shook her head, zipping up her boot with a sharp tug. “Give over. Susie and I? Never.”

Ryan grinned but didn’t push further. “So, what’s the plan tonight? Are you coming back here after your date, or heading to Lisa’s? I can clear out if you need space. Seriously, I can move back to Ben’s couch if it helps.”

Carla’s expression softened. “Ry, I’d never kick you out. You need somewhere stable, and I’ve got the room. That won’t change. But…” She hesitated, fiddling with the zipper pull of her boot. “If you could maybe find somewhere else just for tonight, that would mean a lot. Lisa’s coming over after our date. It’ll be the first time we’ve stayed the night together since… well, since things got complicated before. And I’d really like to spend the night with her, properly, without worrying about traumatising you for life.”

Ryan chuckled, a little embarrassed but also relieved she’d been so honest. “Fair enough. I’ll make myself scarce. I’ll text a mate, see who’s up for a late hangout.”

Carla smiled. “Thanks. I promise I’m not throwing you out, just… trying to figure this out without making it any weirder than it already is.”

Ryan gave her a mock salute. “All good. Just don’t make too much noise.”

Carla threw a cushion at him, laughing.

Half an hour later the intercom to the flat buzzed, and Carla jumped up with a grin already tugging at her lips. She pressed the button to let Lisa in and hurried to the door. The moment she pulled it open her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Lisa stood there with effortless confidence in tight black suit trousers, a loose white blouse that hinted at the shape of her body underneath, and a perfectly tailored black blazer that framed her figure. Her hair was styled simply but flawlessly, and the slight smirk tugging at her lips made Carla’s chest tighten.

“Fuck me, you look incredible,” Carla breathed, unable to stop the words from spilling out.

Lisa’s smile widened. “That was the point. But less about me, you look amazing. How about we skip the date altogether and just head straight to bed?”

Carla laughed, the sound bubbling up naturally, and stepped forward to grab Lisa’s hand. Instead of pulling her inside she tugged her down the stairs.

“Carla,” Lisa said, her brows lifting in surprise, “your bed is in the other direction.”

“Yes, I know exactly where my bed is,” Carla replied. “But I want us to go on a date. A real date. We’ve spent the last couple of weeks tucked away in your house while you recovered, and now that you are better I want to take you out. I want to show you off. I want people to see that I have the sexiest girlfriend in the world.” Her voice softened a little at the word as she said it again, tasting it. “Girlfriend. It feels so strange and so good to say it out loud. I have a girlfriend.”

Lisa’s expression softened instantly, her teasing smirk melting into something warmer. She squeezed Carla’s hand and whispered, “Yes, you do.” Then she stepped in close, backing Carla gently against the inside of the front door. Without giving her a chance to protest, Lisa pressed her lips to Carla’s in a kiss that was tender and lingering but carried just enough fire to make Carla’s knees threaten to give way.

The world outside seemed to vanish for a moment, the only thing that mattered was the heat of Lisa’s body pressed to hers and the soft slide of lips that deepened with every passing second. When Lisa finally pulled back, her forehead rested against Carla’s, her breath mingling with Carla’s quickened heartbeat.

“Are you sure you still want dinner first?” Lisa murmured.

Carla let out a shaky laugh. “Yes. Absolutely. Dinner first. Otherwise we’ll never make it out of this hallway.”

“Fair enough. But I expect dessert to be at your place later.”

Carla’s smile widened as she laced their fingers together more tightly. “Deal. Now come on, my stunning girlfriend, let’s go show you off.”

The restaurant Carla had chosen was warm and elegant, with soft lighting that cast a golden glow across polished wood tables. It was the kind of place where couples lingered over wine, conversations hushed and intimate. Carla couldn’t stop stealing glances at Lisa as they walked in together. The blazer had come off, draped over the back of Lisa’s chair, and the blouse clung a little more now that the room was warmer.

They ordered, laughed easily, and for the first time Carla felt the weight of their private bubble begin to stretch out into the world. This was real. They were here, together, a couple at dinner.

Halfway through the meal Lisa excused herself to the toilet, brushing her fingers lightly over Carla’s shoulder as she passed. The touch lingered, leaving Carla smiling to herself as she reached for her wine glass. She barely had a sip before a man appeared at the side of the table.

He was tall, a little older, with the kind of self-assured smile that suggested he thought the world would always say yes to him. He leaned on the back of the empty chair across from Carla.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but I couldn’t help noticing you sitting here on your own. Beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to dine alone.”

Carla blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not alone.”

“Of course. You’re waiting for a friend, right? Business dinner maybe? Or a first date? Either way, you deserve better company.”

Carla straightened in her chair, her patience thinning. “Actually, I’m here with my girlfriend.” She let the word roll out clearly, deliberately, as if daring him to push further.

His eyebrows rose, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Girlfriend, huh? Well, if she’s leaving you sitting here while she runs off, maybe she doesn’t know how lucky she is.” He tilted his head slightly, lowering his voice as if confiding something to her. “If you ever feel like upgrading, I’d be happy to take you out somewhere even nicer than this.”

Carla’s jaw tightened. She opened her mouth to reply but didn’t need to. Lisa had returned, walking up behind the man just in time to hear his last words. She stopped at Carla’s side, placing a hand possessively on Carla’s shoulder as she leaned in close enough for the man to catch the edge of her glare.

“Funny,” Lisa said calmly, her tone cutting and sharp beneath the silk of her voice, “I was under the impression that this was a perfect evening already. But maybe I misjudged. Carla, did you want someone else sitting here instead of me?”

Carla looked up at Lisa with a smile that held both reassurance and a spark of pride. “No. I want exactly who I have.”

Lisa’s gaze stayed locked on the man until he shifted uncomfortably. The confidence drained from his expression, and with an awkward laugh he muttered something under his breath before walking away.

Only once he was gone did Lisa turn her attention back to Carla. She knelt slightly so her face was level, her hand still resting on Carla’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Carla reached up and squeezed Lisa’s hand. “More than alright. You have no idea how good it felt to say the words out loud. Girlfriend. And I wasn’t letting him think for one second that I’d trade you for anyone.”

Lisa’s lips curved into a slow smile. She kissed Carla softly, right there at the table, uncaring who might be watching. “Good. Because I don’t plan on giving you up either.”

Lisa lingered just a moment longer, brushing her thumb across the back of Carla’s hand before straightening. The sharpness from her encounter with the man softened into something warm, intimate—just for Carla.

“You ready to head home?” she asked quietly, her eyes never leaving Carla’s. “I already paid the bill.”

Carla blinked, startled. “Wait—you what? Lisa, this was supposed to be my treat. I asked you out. You’re my date tonight. I should’ve paid.”

Lisa smirked, leaning down close enough that her voice was almost a whisper against Carla’s ear. “We can argue about who paid, or…” Her lips quirked into that wicked smile that always made Carla’s stomach flip. “…we can get out of here and have mind-blowing sex.”

Carla nearly choked on her wine, scrambling to set the glass down before she spilled it. “Oh my god,” she muttered, half laughing, half panicking at how fast heat rushed through her. She pushed back her chair so quickly it almost toppled, fumbling to her feet. “Right. Okay. Yes. Home. Now.”

Lisa chuckled low, the sound sending another shiver through Carla, and let her take her hand. Carla practically dragged her toward the door, weaving between tables with no grace at all, just urgency. She heard Lisa laugh behind her, felt her fingers tighten around her own, and she couldn’t stop the grin stretching across her face.

She had a girlfriend.

God, this was her life now. No more hiding, no more second-guessing. Just Lisa’s hand warm in hers, steady and certain, grounding her even as her pulse raced. Every glance, every laugh, every teasing word made it sink in deeper—this wasn’t just something fleeting. She had someone who chose her, who wanted her. She had Lisa. She had a girlfriend. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, the future didn’t feel scary at all—it felt wide open, and it felt good.

Chapter Text

Lisa and Carla hadn’t even made it fully through the door of Carla’s flat before it happened. Jackets slipped from their shoulders, shoes half-kicked away, laughter breaking against hurried kisses. Lisa pressed Carla back against the front room door, the soft thud drowned beneath the sound of breathless need. Fingers tangled in fabric, pulling, tugging—clothes tumbling to the floor in a careless trail that marked the path of everything they’d been holding back.

For a moment, Lisa stilled, her forehead resting against Carla’s, the silence charged. This wasn’t just another kiss, another tumble of clothes on the floor—this was their first time since everything had fallen apart. Since the late-night arguments. Since the apologies. Since they’d finally said out loud what had been there all along. The weight of it pressed down on her, heavy and real. This was a big deal, and Lisa knew it. Her chest tightened, panic flickering at the edges, the fear that she might ruin it all before it even began. But Carla’s hand slid up to cup her cheek, eyes fierce and soft all at once. That was all it took—the knot in Lisa’s chest unravelling—and then the urgency returned, their mouths finding each other again, as if afraid that letting go might mean losing this moment.

Carla felt the hesitation in Lisa’s body, the way her breath caught, and she pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. For a second, neither spoke. Then Carla gave the faintest smile, soft but steady, her thumb brushing across Lisa’s jaw as if to remind her—we’re here, we’re okay.

That was all Lisa needed. She let out a shaky laugh, relief threading through the panic, and kissed her again—slower this time, but deeper, with a promise in it. Carla responded instantly, guiding her gently away from the door.

They moved together, step by step, half-stumbling through the dim hallway, hands finding skin, finding each other, as though they were afraid to let go. By the time they reached the edge of Carla’s bedroom, the trail of discarded clothes had grown, each piece marking their way forward. The door was only half-shut before Lisa pressed Carla back against it, breathless, and then pulled her toward the bed.

They lay there together, stripped down to nothing but their underwear, breaths still uneven from the rush of getting here. Lisa let her gaze linger on Carla, her chest tightening at the thought that this was real. Despite everything—their arguments, the long silences, Carla practically moving in to help her after the accident—they were here now, and Carla Connor was hers. She still couldn’t quite believe she got to love this woman. And she had no plans of ever letting her go.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Carla asked softly, studying her with that sharp, knowing look.

Lisa didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing Carla gently onto her back before swinging a leg over her, straddling her stomach. Heat pooled low in Lisa’s body, the dampness of her knickers brushing against Carla’s skin. She should have felt embarrassed—how easily Carla undid her, how just kissing and seeing her half undressed drove her to the edge. But she didn’t. Not with Carla. Because she knew Carla liked it—liked her—just as much.

“I love you,” Lisa murmured, her voice low and unsteady as she reached behind her back, unhooking her bra. She let it slip from her shoulders and fall soundlessly to the floor.

Carla’s eyes softened, dark with want but lit with something deeper. “I love you too,” she whispered back, before lifting herself just enough to take one of Lisa’s nipples into her mouth, her tongue flicking over sensitive skin. Lisa gasped, her hands tangling in Carla’s hair, every nerve in her body alive under the weight of those words and that touch.

“You’re so good at that,” Lisa moaned, her body arching slightly under Carla’s touch.

Carla’s lips curved into a sly smile. “I’m good at a lot of things,” she muttered, flipping them effortlessly so Lisa was on her back, Carla now hovering over her with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Shall we see just how wet I can make you?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

Lisa’s pulse quickened, a shiver running through her. She knew exactly where this was going. Carla was in a mood—a teasing, take-no-prisoners kind of mood—and Lisa wasn’t going to stop her. In fact, she loved it. Loved it when Carla took control, when she claimed what she wanted. The thought alone made her knickers dampen further, heat pooling low, a mixture of anticipation and surrender that left her utterly, deliciously exposed.

Carla’s fingers traced slowly along the waistband of Lisa’s knickers, deliberate and teasing. “If I run my fingers through your folds,” she murmured, “what am I going to find? Are you going to be dripping for me?”

“Oh… fuck,” Lisa gasped, shivering at the words.

Carla’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “I didn’t hear an answer,” she said, sliding her fingers lower, stopping just shy of Lisa’s clit. “Am I going to find you dripping for me… like a good girl?”

Lisa’s breath hitched. Good girl. Just saying it had the desired effect—Carla knew exactly how to push her buttons, and Lisa was helpless to resist.

Lisa just nodded, unable to form words. She tried, opening her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Answer me,” Carla demanded softly, her eyes dark with intent. “Tell me how wet you are. Tell me how turned on you are, and I might have a little surprise for you.”

“Carla, please,” Lisa gasped, her voice trembling. “If you don’t feel how wet I am—or even touch me—I might… I might explode. And what surprise? You never mentioned a surprise.”

Carla’s lips curved into a wicked smile. Slowly, she ran two fingers through Lisa’s wet folds, teasing without entering. She traced the curves of her swollen skin, then carefully placed her fingers over Lisa’s clit, circling it ever so lightly before pulling them back. Holding them up to show Lisa how glistening they were, she licked them clean, moaning softly at the taste.

Lisa’s breath caught, her body quivering at the deliberate, intimate display. Every teasing movement, every small, controlled sensation, had her completely undone

“Well,” Carla began, her voice low, “tonight… this is the first time we’re together since everything happened, and I wanted to make it special. I also wanted to try something—but you can say no. I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t want to do. And please, don’t think I feel like our relationship—or our sex—is lacking… but I bought us a strap-on.”

Lisa nearly came right then and there. Just hearing the words strap-on leave Carla’s mouth was hotter than anything she had expected, and she couldn’t quite believe the brunette had said it.

“For…?” she gasped.

“Sex,” Carla deadpanned, lips twitching with amusement.

Lisa leaned up and lightly tickled Carla. “I know that,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “What I mean is… did you want me to wear it and fuck you, or did you want to wear it and fuck me?”

Carla froze for a moment, her voice caught in her throat. “I… thought both,” she muttered finally, running her fingers down Lisa’s neck. “I mean, if that’s something you’re open to… taking it, I mean. Otherwise, I’m happy with you being the only one to wear it. But the thought of fucking you… watching the strap bury deep inside you… well, it’s… fuck…”

Lisa’s pulse raced at Carla’s words, heat pooling low in her body. She leaned closer, brushing her lips against Carla’s ear. “Both, huh?” she murmured, her fingers teasing the curve of Carla’s jaw. “You really want to watch me take it?”

Carla swallowed hard, eyes dark with need, and nodded. “God, yes. I want to see every reaction, every shiver. I want to hear you lose yourself.” Her hand slid down Lisa’s side, tugging her closer. “And then… I want to have my turn.”

Lisa’s laugh was breathless, a mixture of anticipation and delight. “Well, then I guess we’re both in for a wild night.” She pressed a lingering kiss to Carla’s lips before gently rolling them so she was on top, hands brushing over Carla’s body with reverence and desire.

Carla’s fingers dug into Lisa’s hips, guiding her slowly, teasingly, their eyes locked in an intimate, silent conversation. Every movement, every brush of skin, was a promise—they had fallen apart before, but tonight, they were claiming each other again, exploring, experimenting, and savouring the trust and desire that had only grown stronger in the time apart.

“Okay,” Lisa murmured, her voice low and teasing, “you can fuck me with the strap—but first, I need to do something.”

She let her lips trail slowly down Carla’s body, savoring the heat and softness under her touch, until she was nestled between her thighs. Carla’s arousal was strong in the air, filling Lisa’s senses, and she breathed it in, drinking it like it was something she could never tire of.

Carefully, Lisa pulled the waistband of Carla’s thong down. Carla kicked it away without a second thought, hips lifting slightly, urging her on.

“You are soaked,” Lisa murmured, her voice thick with desire, “you smell… amazing.”

Carla let out a low, shuddering moan, her hands tangling in Lisa’s hair as her body arched instinctively toward her. Every movement, every touch, was charged with urgency, with the kind of intimacy that came from finally being completely vulnerable with the one person you loved most.

Lisa’s fingers traced the curves of Carla’s folds, slow and deliberate, teasing the wet heat that shivered under her touch. She pressed her lips to Carla’s skin, letting her tongue explore, savouring every taste, every reaction.

Carla’s back arched, her hands clutching at Lisa’s hair, urging her closer. Lisa pressed further, plunging her tongue as deeply as she could, feeling Carla shiver beneath her. Then, rising slightly, she circled her tongue around Carla’s clit, sucking it into her mouth with a slow, deliberate greed that made Carla cry out, hips bucking instinctively.

Every motion was a conversation without words—pleasure, trust, and desire wrapped into each movement. Lisa felt the warmth of Carla’s body, the sharp inhale, the subtle tremble, and it drove her on, relentless, yet tender, worshipping the woman she loved with every careful stroke and teasing lick.

Lisa slid two fingers to Carla’s entrance, teasing her slick folds for a moment before pressing inside, filling her with a slow, steady thrust.

“Fuck, Lisa…” Carla moaned, her head falling back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as her body welcomed the intrusion. Her hips rocked forward, meeting Lisa’s rhythm, chasing the friction she’d been aching for.

Lisa watched her with awe, every gasp and every tremor igniting her own desire. She curled her fingers slightly, searching for that spot she knew would unravel Carla completely, her thumb brushing lightly over her clit in time with each thrust.

The sound of Carla’s moans filled the room, breathless and raw, and Lisa’s chest swelled with both pride and hunger—because this was hers, this was them, and she’d never get tired of hearing Carla lose control beneath her touch.

Lisa slid her another finger inside Carla, curling them just right as her tongue worked hungrily over her clit. The combination had Carla unraveling fast—her moans growing louder, body trembling as she gripped the back of Lisa’s head, holding her right where she wanted her.

“Fuck, Lisa… don’t stop,” Carla gasped, her thighs tightening around Lisa’s shoulders as her hips rolled helplessly against the rhythm of her tongue and fingers. Every flick of Lisa’s tongue sent sparks shooting through her, every thrust driving her higher.

The tension coiled tighter, unbearable, until it snapped—Carla cried out, her body arching off the bed as her climax ripped through her. She shuddered violently, waves of pleasure crashing over her while Lisa held her steady, tongue and fingers carrying her through every last pulse until Carla finally fell back against the sheets, breathless and spent.

Lisa kissed her inner thigh softly, easing her fingers free before crawling up to press a tender kiss to Carla’s lips. She tasted her on Lisa’s mouth and groaned, smiling weakly. “You’re going to destroy me, you know that?”

Carla lay sprawled across the sheets, chest still heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Lisa brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead, pressing soft kisses along her jaw and cheek. The sharp edge of urgency had passed, leaving behind warmth and something quieter—something only they shared.

“You’re unreal,” Carla murmured, her voice hoarse but soft. She pulled Lisa closer, their foreheads pressing together as her fingers stroked lazily along Lisa’s spine. For a moment they just breathed each other in, smiling through the haze.

Lisa laughed gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I could do that all night.”

“Mm… maybe next time.” She let her hand slide down, resting on Lisa’s hip. “But right now… can I fuck you with the strap?”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with promise. Carla searched Lisa’s face, her tone suddenly softer, almost uncertain despite the heat still in her eyes. “Only if you want it. Tell me yes.”

Carla’s words barely left her mouth before Lisa’s answer tumbled out, raw and unrestrained. “Yes—God, yes. I want you to fuck me, Carla.”

Her eyes burned with urgency, her fingers clutching at Carla’s arm as though afraid she might take the offer back. “I’ve been thinking about it since you said it,” Lisa admitted, breathless, her body already arching toward her. “I want to feel you inside me. I need it.”

That hungry confession sent a pulse of heat straight through Carla. Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as she leaned in, brushing her mouth over Lisa’s in a teasing kiss. “Good,” she whispered against her lips, her hand slipping down Lisa’s thigh. “Because I’ve been dying to ruin you with it.”

Carla pushed herself off the bed with a grin that made Lisa’s stomach twist in the best way. She bent to the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out a sleek black harness and the toy she’d hidden away.

Lisa’s eyes widened, hunger flashing across her face as she propped herself up on her elbows. Just the sight of Carla holding it sent a pulse of heat through her, and she bit down on her lip to stop the needy sound rising in her throat.

“Like what you see?” Carla teased, fastening the straps around her hips, adjusting the buckle with deliberate slowness. She was putting on a show and she knew it.

Lisa could barely sit still. “You’ve got no idea,” she murmured, voice thick with want. Her gaze followed every movement—Carla’s fingers tightening the harness, the way the toy jutted forward proudly once secured.

When Carla finally looked back at her, standing at the edge of the bed wearing nothing but her bra and the strap, Lisa let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck, Carla… you’re going to kill me.”

Carla smirked, crawling back onto the bed with a predatory grace. “Not kill you,” she whispered, hovering over her, the weight of the toy pressing against Lisa’s thigh. “Just make sure you never forget tonight.”

Carla settled between Lisa’s thighs, the harness firm against her hips. She dipped her head to kiss her softly, almost tenderly, before rolling her hips just enough for the head of the toy to drag across Lisa’s clit.

Lisa cried out, her back arching. “Oh, fuck—Carla…”

Carla smirked against her lips. “Mm, you like that?” she murmured, grinding the strap gently over her swollen clit again, slower this time. Each pass had Lisa trembling, her fingers clutching at the sheets, her need written all over her face.

“Please,” Lisa begged, breathless, but Carla wasn’t ready to give in yet. She shifted lower, running the length of the toy through Lisa’s folds, coating it in her wetness. Every stroke was deliberate, dragging through her heat, stopping just at her entrance before sliding back up.

Lisa whimpered, her hips chasing the pressure. “You’re torturing me,” she moaned.

 “No, baby… I’m preparing you.” With that, she finally pressed the head of the strap against Lisa’s entrance, pushing slowly, inch by inch, until Lisa’s gasp turned into a low, desperate moan as she was stretched open around it.

Carla stilled, letting Lisa adjust, her hand caressing her cheek. “That’s it,” she whispered, voice suddenly softer, more reverent. “Good girl… take me.”

Lisa whimpered against her mouth, rolling her hips, desperate for more. “Carla… please, move.”

But Carla only smirked, pulling back just slightly before easing forward again, the slowest, most deliberate rhythm she could manage. Each shallow thrust dragged across Lisa’s most sensitive spot, keeping her teetering on the edge without ever tipping her over.

Lisa’s nails dug into Carla’s back, her moans turning ragged. “You’re… you’re killing me,” she gasped, writhing beneath her.

Carla dipped her head to Lisa’s neck, kissing, biting lightly. “No,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “I’m savouring you. I want to feel every second of this… every little sound you make when I fuck you slow.”

Lisa cried out as Carla rolled her hips again, deeper this time, then pulled almost all the way out, only to push back in achingly slow. Her body trembled with the torture of it, her thighs quivering as she clung to Carla.

“Carla—God—I need you to fuck me properly,” she pleaded, her voice breaking with need.

 “Not yet,” she whispered against Lisa’s lips. “I’m going to make you beg for it first.”

Every slow thrust, every agonising pause had Lisa’s body shaking, her thighs tightening around Carla’s hips as if to drag her deeper. But Carla resisted, keeping the rhythm torturously shallow, her smirk growing with every whimper Lisa gave her.

“Carla… please,” Lisa gasped, her nails raking down Carla’s back. “I can’t—God, I can’t take it like this. I need you to fuck me.”

Carla tilted her head, her movements slowing even further, teasing the head of the strap just inside Lisa’s entrance before pulling back out again. “Mm… not good enough, baby. Beg me.”

Lisa’s face flushed, desperation written all over her. She grabbed at Carla’s shoulders, her voice breaking as she cried out, “Please, Carla! Please fuck me properly—hard, deep—I need you. I’m begging you. Please.”

That raw plea went straight to Carla’s core, the sound of Lisa unraveling beneath her everything she craved. Her eyes darkened, lips brushing Lisa’s ear as she whispered, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

She pressed forward a little deeper this time, holding there, making Lisa moan from the stretch, before slowly withdrawing again. “You’ll get it,” she promised, her voice low and commanding. “But first I want to hear you say you’re mine.”

Lisa’s body trembled as she gasped out, voice raw with need, “I’m yours, Carla. I’m all yours!”

Carla’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, and without another word, she pressed forward fully, filling Lisa completely with the strap. Every inch of her deliberate, teasing hold shifted into a slow, steady rhythm, making Lisa moan and writhe beneath her.

One hand gripped Lisa’s hip, holding her tight, while the other found its way to her clit, thumb brushing and circling in time with each thrust. The combination was unbearable—teasing, stretching, and relentless all at once.

“Oh… fuck—Carla!” Lisa cried, her voice breaking as her back arched, nails digging into Carla’s shoulders. The pleasure built, spiraling higher and higher, until her body finally surrendered. With a shuddering gasp, her muscles clenched around the strap, her juices pooling and spraying as she squirted, screaming Carla’s name into the room.

Carla held her through it, keeping the rhythm steady, her thumb never leaving Lisa’s clit, coaxing every last pulse of pleasure out of her. When Lisa finally stilled, trembling and breathless, Carla leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

“You were perfect,” she murmured, voice low and full of heat, “my good girl.”

Lisa clung to her, heart racing, chest heaving, utterly spent—but completely and utterly satisfied.

Carla didn’t stop right away. She slowed her pace, her hips rolling in long, deep strokes that had Lisa whimpering beneath her, every thrust dragging against her oversensitive walls. Her thumb never left Lisa’s clit, easing the pressure but never letting her escape it.

Lisa’s body jerked, the overstimulation turning into something sharper, higher. “Carla—I… I can’t—” she moaned, but Carla only kissed her softly and whispered, “Yes, you can. Give me one more.”

Lisa’s thighs trembled, her nails digging into Carla’s skin as her body obeyed. With another broken cry, she came again, her whole body shuddering as the release washed over her, leaving her limp and breathless beneath Carla.

Carla finally stilled, pulling out slowly before laying down beside her, gathering Lisa into her arms. She brushed damp hair from her forehead, kissing her tenderly.

Lisa gave a tired laugh, voice hoarse. “When my body starts working again… I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

Carla chuckled softly, stroking her cheek. “We’ve got all the time in the world, love,” she murmured. “Right now, just sleep. Let me hold you.”

Lisa sighed, already melting into the warmth of Carla’s embrace. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was simple, certain, and sweet—she was home.

Chapter Text

“Happy six-month anniversary!” Carla gushed as she dropped a box onto Lisa’s lap.

Lisa craned her head back, and Carla leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

“I thought we weren’t doing presents?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t remember that conversation,” Carla chuckled.

“Carla Connor.”

“Okay, okay. I changed my mind. But I have a good reason, and once you open the box, I can explain.”

Carla rounded the sofa and sat beside her girlfriend, watching as Lisa untied the red bow on the black velvet box. When Lisa lifted the lid, her jaw dropped and her eyes began to glisten.

“If you don’t want them, I can try to sell them,” Carla said quickly. “I probably won’t get back what I paid, especially since the concert’s tonight.”

“Carla, I want them. Of course I want them. But how? They were sold out, we tried and tried.”

“I’ve got a friend who broke her leg and is in hospital having surgery. She couldn’t go, and she knew I was still looking, so she rang to ask if I wanted to buy them,” Carla explained.

“Still looking?”

“Well, yeah. Since we couldn’t get tickets and I know how much you wanted to see Oasis, I never really gave up. I’d stopped checking every day, but when Dani called, it felt like fate.”

Lisa turned toward her, leaned in, and kissed her. The kiss quickly deepened, leaving Carla flat on her back on the sofa with Lisa’s thigh between her legs before either of them knew what was happening.

When they finally broke apart, Carla rested her forehead against Lisa’s, both of them smiling.

“Best anniversary ever,” Lisa whispered.

A few hours later, the two of them were arm in arm, weaving through the crowd outside the arena. The low hum of chatter, the buzz of anticipation, and the faint scent of rain in the air made everything feel charged.

Lisa held the tickets tightly, glancing down at them every few steps as if they might vanish.

“I still can’t believe this.”

Carla laughed. “You’ve looked at those tickets more than you’ve looked at me tonight.”

Lisa grinned, bumping her shoulder against Carla’s. “You’re the one who made it happen. I’m just making sure it’s real.”

Inside, the arena lights dimmed, and the first chords of Don’t Look Back in Anger sent a ripple of cheers through the crowd. Lisa’s hand found Carla’s instantly. They swayed together, pressed close, the music vibrating in their chests.

For a while, they didn’t speak, just sang, laughed, and shouted along with thousands of strangers who somehow felt like friends. Carla stole glances at Lisa under the flashing lights, the glow painting her face in gold and blue.

When Wonderwall started, Lisa turned to her, voice half-lost in the noise. “You know this one’s ours now, right?”

Carla smiled, pulling her closer. “Our song?”

“Yes. Because maybe. You’re gonna be the one that saves me. And after all. You’re my wonderwall,” Lisa sang.

“You’re a dork,” 

“But I’m your dork,” Lisa replied with that crooked grin that always melted her.

As the final chorus echoed through the arena, Carla rested her chin on Lisa’s shoulder, letting the music and the warmth of her girlfriend’s body fill the space between them.

“I love you,” she murmured softly.

“I love you too,” 

Carla smiled, brushing her lips against Lisa’s ear. “I know you do, and when we get home, maybe you can show me just how much.”

By the time they made it back to the house, Betsy was gone. The quiet that greeted them felt charged, alive. They didn’t speak much; they didn’t need to. Every glance, every touch said more than words could. Jackets hit the floor, laughter echoed down the hallway, and the distance between them vanished.

Carla couldn’t help but think, as they tumbled onto the bed, how surreal it still felt, living together, sharing a space, a life. She’d never believed she’d get a happy ending, certainly not one that looked like this: a cosy home, a stepdaughter who stole her clothes, and a 5’1” blonde detective in a sweater vest who made her feel seen, safe, and completely loved.

A few mind-blowing orgasms later, Carla drifted into sleep still wrapped in Lisa’s arms, her head resting against the detective’s shoulder.

When she woke again, it was still dark. Lisa was sitting up beside her, hair slightly tousled, that familiar crease of thought between her brows.

Carla blinked groggily. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, voice thick with sleep. “You okay?”

Lisa smiled, that small, nervous smile she only ever used when she was trying to play something off. “I’m fine,” she said gently. “I just… didn’t get the chance to give you your anniversary present.”

Carla reached for her hand, her thumb brushing over Lisa’s knuckles. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said softly. “You’re all I need.”

Lisa’s gaze softened. She took a slow breath, as if steadying herself. “You know,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “when you climbed into my car that first day, listening to me talk about Becky and Betsy, I never imagined we’d end up here.”

Carla chuckled sleepily. “Yeah, well, I didn’t imagine falling for someone who wears sweater vests unironically.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened. “You changed everything, Carla. I didn’t think I’d ever find this. Someone who’d see me, all of me, and still stick around. It hasn’t always been easy. We’ve fought, we’ve struggled, we’ve both made mistakes. But every step, every argument, every long night, it all led me here. To you.”

Her voice trembled just slightly as she shifted, reaching for something under the bed. Carla’s breath caught when she saw the small velvet box.

“Lisa…” she whispered.

Lisa opened it, the faint glow from the bedside lamp catching the diamond. “The journey wasn’t easy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now, “but the destination was worth it. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone.” She took Carla’s hand, her eyes glistening. “So, Carla Connor, will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Yes,” she whispered against Lisa’s neck. “A thousand times yes.”

Lisa exhaled a shaky breath, burying her face in Carla’s hair, holding her like she never wanted to let go.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was theirs, and that was everything.

Chapter Text

Lisa pressed the button for the first floor, watching the doors inch together. The low hum of the lift filled the silence, a moment of calm before another long day. Just as the doors were about to meet, a hand slid between them — and they shuddered open again.

“Hold the lift—thanks,” came a familiar voice.

Lisa’s stomach dropped before she even looked up.

In walked Bridget, her hair a little shorter, her expression composed in that way Lisa remembered—too calm, too polite, too unreadable.

“DS Swain,” Bridget said, forcing a quick smile as she pressed her floor. “Good to see you.”

Lisa managed a nod. “You too, Bridget.”

The air seemed to thicken instantly. The lift doors closed this time, sealing them in with the faint mechanical hum. Neither spoke for a moment. Lisa shifted her weight, fixing her gaze on the panel of buttons, though she could feel Bridget’s presence beside her.

“How’ve you been?” Bridget asked finally. 

“Busy,” Lisa replied. “You know how it is. New cases, long hours.”

“Still throwing yourself into work, then.”

 “Of course.”

A mechanical groan cut through the tension. The lights flickered. Then the lift shuddered to a stop.

Both women froze.

Lisa instinctively reached for the emergency button. “Brilliant,” she muttered, pressing it. “Just what we need.”

There was a buzz, then a voice over the intercom: “Maintenance’s on the way. Sit tight.”

The connection clicked off.

Bridget exhaled, leaning against the mirrored wall. “Of course. What is it with us two and getting stuck in lifts?.”

Lisa gave her a sideways glance. “Terrible luck.”

Bridget met her eyes in the reflection. “I mean the first time wasn’t so terrible”

Lisa hesitated. “No it wasn’t, I know I've said it but I am sorry. But, you know why things needed to end.”

“Because of her,” Bridget said quietly.

Lisa didn’t answer, but the silence was enough.

Bridget gave a small nod, looking down at her hands. “I saw you two. You and Carla. Looked… happy.”

Lisa looked away, staring at the floor numbers that weren’t moving. “Yeah. It’s… different.”

Bridget’s voice softened. “It always is, when it’s real.”

That hit harder than Lisa wanted to admit. She folded her arms, suddenly aware of how close they were in the confined space—the scent of Bridget’s perfume, the subtle tremor in her voice. 

Minutes ticked by. The lift stayed still.

Finally, Bridget sighed. “You know, I never blamed you. Not really. I just wished you’d been honest sooner.”

Lisa’s eyes flicked to her. “I didn’t know what I felt, it was complicated.”

“Complicated is one word for it,” Bridget said gently. “But… I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

Lisa felt the knot in her chest loosen slightly. “Thanks.”

They stood in silence again, the weight between them shifting from sharp to something almost nostalgic. The lift gave a low jolt, then started moving.

Bridget straightened, brushing her hands on her coat. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Lisa gave a small smile. “Yeah.”

When the doors opened, Bridget stepped out first, then turned back. “Take care, Lisa.”

“You too, Bridget.”

A few hours later, Lisa finally pushed open the front door, kicking off her shoes with a tired sigh. The soft hum of music drifted from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps against the floorboards.

“Finally,” came Carla’s voice — and then she appeared at the top of the stairs, just in her underwear and clearly flustered, holding two dresses on hangers.

Lisa’s brows arched. “Now this is a greeting I can get on board with,” she teased, “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

Carla huffed, coming down the last few steps. “Because I can’t decide which one to wear. The black one’s classic, the red one’s bold, and I don't know which to pick.”

Lisa laughed quietly, following her into the kitchen. “You’d look beautiful in a bin bag, love.”

Carla rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Lisa stepped closer, sliding her arms around Carla’s waist from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. “You know, it’s a little unfair,” she murmured against Carla’s neck.

Carla tilted her head slightly. “What is?”

“You looking like that and expecting me to keep my hands to myself.”

Carla turned in her arms, the teasing glint in her eyes meeting Lisa’s. “I didn’t think you’d be home so late. The party starts in an hour, and I still look like this.”

Lisa brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “It’s our engagement party, sweetheart. It doesn’t start until we walk in together.”

Lisa kissed her forehead lightly, lingering just long enough to make Carla smile.

“Go on,” Lisa said finally, nodding toward the dresses. “Pick one. I’ll pour us both a drink.”

Carla smirked. “You’re only saying that because you know I’ll make you iron whichever one I choose.”

Lisa grinned. “Worth it.”

As Carla walked away to finish getting ready, Lisa leaned back against the counter, watching her with quiet affection. For a second, she thought about how far they’d come — the chaos, the confusion, and somehow ending up here, building a life together.

It wasn’t long before Carla was finally dressed. After chopping and changing dresses, she had finally settled on the black one — mostly because Betsy had picked out a tight-fitted black suit and tie for Lisa, insisting that they had to match.

Carla stepped out of the bathroom just as Lisa was smoothing down her trousers and adjusting her tie.

“Does this look right?” Lisa asked.

“No, it doesn’t,” Carla replied, stepping forward. She gripped the tie and pulled Lisa closer. “That suit would look better on the floor, and the tie would look better tied around your hands.”

“Stop,” Lisa warned.

“How can I stop,” Carla murmured, “when you’re standing there with your hair all curly, that suit hugging you in all the right places, and that tie sitting around your neck? I’m dripping.”

“Carla, you’re the one who wanted the engagement party. We can’t miss it.”

“Technically, Betsy wanted it and I agreed,” Carla said, “but I didn’t realise I’d have to spend the whole night watching you walk around the Bistro looking like that and not being able to touch you.”

“Nobody said you can’t touch me,” Lisa quipped.

“Okay,” Carla countered, pulling the tie tighter, “watch you walk around and not be able to fuck you — not being able to push my fingers deep inside you, feel you tighten around them, then drop to my knees and use my tongue to bring you right to the edge before—”

“Ahem.” Betsy cleared her throat from the doorway. “I was wondering what was taking you two so long… and now I wish I hadn’t.”

Carla quickly let go of the tie and Lisa stepped back.

“We won’t be long. Why don’t you head over and we’ll be along in a minute,” Lisa said.

“Absolutely not. If I leave now, I know exactly what the pair of you will be doing. This is your engagement party. People are coming to celebrate you two, and it doesn’t really have the desired effect if neither of you are anywhere to be seen. So, one of you needs to come with me while the other stays upstairs, or you can both come with me to the Bistro.”

Carla gave a soft sigh. “Darling, you go with Bets. I’ve got a couple of things to sort out, and I’ll be there soon.”

Lisa tilted her head, pretending to pout. “Okay, but can I at least kiss my fiancée? Is that allowed?”

“Yes, just make it quick and keep your hands to yourself,” Betsy replied with a knowing look.

Lisa wanted to do much more than keep her hands to herself, but she knew she couldn’t. There was a time and a place, and maybe—just maybe—she could convince Carla to disappear into the Bistro toilets with her once everyone had indulged in the free bar. She pressed a quick kiss to Carla’s lips before Betsy tugged her away and down the stairs.

By the time they arrived at the Bistro, it was packed. Laughter and music filled the air, and the glow of the fairy lights made the whole place shimmer. Lisa’s first stop was the bar. She left Betsy chatting with Amy and Nina and ordered two glasses of wine—one for herself and one for Carla.

“Good evening, DS Swain,” Sally greeted with a smile.

“Sally, we’re at my engagement party. I’m engaged to your boss. I think we can drop the formalities, don’t you?”

Sally laughed. “You make a good point. DS… I mean, Lisa.”

Sean appeared beside her, his grin wide. “Have I heard right? It’s an open bar?”

“Yes. Enjoy yourself,” Lisa said as Nick placed two glasses of wine in front of her.

“So, where’s the future Mrs Swain? Or is it Connor-Swain? Swain-Connor? Or are you dropping your name and taking Carla’s?” Nick asked.

Before Lisa could answer, she felt an arm wrap around her waist and a soft kiss pressed to her cheek.

“It’s Connor-Swain,” Carla said. “And thank you for letting us have the party here, Nick.”

Nick chuckled. “You’ve paid through the nose, so I’m not going to turn down the business. Well, Toyah wouldn’t let me. She said if I turned down business from everyone either of us had slept with, we’d be bankrupt in a year.” He laughed and disappeared to the other side of the bar.

“He’s got a point,” Carla said, picking up her glass and taking a sip. “If I forgot to say it earlier, you look beautiful.”

Lisa smiled. “I think you were getting to that before we were interrupted. Speaking of interruptions—how about you and I sneak away to the toilets in a little while and finish what we almost started?” she whispered against Carla’s ear.

Carla leaned closer, her voice low. “I like that idea. And I’ll let you in on a little secret—I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Before Lisa could react, Carla slipped away into the crowd, leaving her flushed and flustered. Lisa quickly followed, catching up and wrapping her arms around Carla’s waist.

“You can’t say that to me and then run off,” she murmured.

Carla opened her mouth to reply, but the Bistro doors swung open.

“Look who I found wandering around outside,” Ryan called, stepping aside to reveal Michelle.

Lisa immediately dropped her hands from Carla’s waist. Carla’s expression shifted from surprise to delight as she stepped forward and pulled Michelle into a hug.

“Chelle, what the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“As if I’d miss your engagement party. Hopefully it’s your last one,” Michelle teased.

Carla laughed. “Yes, Lisa is it for me. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

“That’s good to hear. You’ve come a long way since that friends-with-benefits stage, and I’m so happy for you both. She’s good for you,” Michelle said.

Carla turned, pressing a kiss to Lisa’s cheek. “She really is. So, how long are you staying?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Michelle said, her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t want to say anything until I had all my ducks in a row, but I’m moving back for good. Ryan’s offered me the spare room in the flat, and there’s a little restaurant in town that’s up for sale. I’m looking into buying it once everything in Ireland is sorted.”

“Really?” Carla asked.

“Yes, really. I was hoping I could work at the factory until it’s all settled.”

“Of course,” Carla said warmly. “You know you’re always welcome.”

Michelle smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But enough about me,” she said, lifting her glass from the bar. “Tonight isn’t about my grand return. It’s about celebrating you two and this incredible step you’re taking together.”

She raised her glass higher. “To Carla and Lisa—finally making it official. May your life together be full of love, laughter, and just enough mischief to keep things interesting.”

The crowd around them cheered, glasses clinking as everyone joined in the toast.

Carla laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thank you, Chelle. That means a lot.” She glanced at Lisa, eyes soft with affection. “We’ve both been through enough to know how lucky we are to have found each other.”

Lisa turned to her, unable to hide her smile. “You make it sound like we survived a war.”

“In some ways, we did.”

“I love you, Mrs. Connor-Swain to be.”

“I love you too,” Carla replied softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the party.

Lisa’s lips brushed close to Carla’s ear. “Now that everyone’s busy and the drinks are flowing, I’m sure I heard something about you not wearing any underwear,” she murmured, her breath warm against Carla’s skin.

Carla tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I might be. I might not be. Maybe you’ll have to find out,” she husked.

Lisa’s eyes darkened with mischief. Without another word, she caught Carla’s hand and began to weave them both through the crowd. Guests offered congratulations and raised their glasses, and Lisa returned each smile with polite nods that barely concealed her impatience. The thump of music and laughter faded as she guided Carla toward the front of the Bistro.

They slipped into the ladies toilets, the door swinging shut behind them. Lisa led her straight to the last cubicle, pushing it open and pulling Carla inside. The lock clicked into place, sealing them away from the noise outside.

Lisa twirled Carla playfully and pressed her back against the door. “So, darling,” she murmured, “are we ready to find out if you were telling the truth?”

Her hands slipped to the hem of Carla’s dress, lifting it inch by inch. Each brush of her fingers over bare skin sent a visible shiver through Carla, stealing her breath.

When the fabric gathered at her hips, Lisa’s gaze swept over her, amusement flickering in her eyes. “You really are full of surprises,” she whispered.

Carla’s smile turned teasing. “Guess you’ll just have to decide what to do about it.”

Lisa leaned closer, her lips ghosting over Carla’s ear. “Oh, I have ideas,” she said softly. “But the real question is—how much patience do you have tonight?”

Lisa’s gaze lingered on Carla for a long moment, dark with intent. Then, without another word, she sank gracefully to her knees before her.

Carla’s breath caught. The shift in energy was electric — the playful teasing replaced by something heavier, intimate. Lisa’s hands slid up along the sides of Carla’s thighs, her touch slow, reverent, making Carla’s skin prickle with anticipation.

“Look at you,” Lisa murmured, her voice low and rich. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Carla managed a shaky laugh, her fingers brushing through Lisa’s hair. “I think I might have some idea,” she whispered.

Lisa tilted her head up, their eyes locking — a silent exchange pulsing with want and unspoken promise. “Then let me show you,” she said softly.

Her hands tightened slightly, the warmth of her palms grounding Carla even as the tension between them grew almost unbearable. 

Lisa smiled — slow, confident, devastating — and leaned forward until her lips hovered a whisper away from Carla’s skin. “Tell me you want this,” she breathed.

Carla’s reply came as little more than a sigh. “I do. I really do.”

“Good.”

Carla held her dress in place, the fabric gathered around her hips, one hand still tangled in Lisa’s hair. Lisa breathed her in, her movements slow and deliberate, as though memorising every inch of her. She pressed soft kisses along Carla’s thighs, her touch teasing but tender, drawing a shiver from her.

“Lisa, please,” Carla breathed, her voice trembling somewhere between impatience and desire.

Lisa glanced up at her “Please?” she echoed.

Carla let out a shaky laugh. “Stop teasing me. We haven’t got long before someone comes looking for us.”

Lisa’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh? Then I suppose I should stop…” She straightened slightly, pretending to stand.

Before she could move away, Carla caught her arm and pulled her closer. “Don’t even think about walking away now,” she whispered.

“You really don’t like being made to wait, do you?” she murmured.

Carla met her gaze, breathless. “Not when it’s you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them hummed — anticipation, attraction, and something deeper. Then Lisa leaned in, brushing her lips against Carla’s thigh in a touch that made her shiver. “Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Because I wasn’t planning on leaving you unsatisfied. Are you ready?”

 "More than ready."

With that, Lisa dove in. Each movement brought forth a chorus of soft moans from Carla, urging her on. 

Carla gasped, her body arching in response to the exquisite sensations coursing through her. Every flick and swirl of Lisa's tongue ignited a fire deep within her, leaving her breathless and craving more.

“Just like that,” Carla moaned, “You’re amazing.” The praise sent a rush of warmth through Lisa, making her feel even more empowered. She was fully committed to this moment, willing to forget the outside world and the noise that threatened to intrude.

“Don’t stop,” Carla gasped, her voice thick with desire. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

With renewed fervor, Lisa slipped in two fingers, enveloping Carla's clit with her mouth while skillfully caressing the spot inside that sent waves of ecstasy through Carla.

“Oh, fuck.”

The way Carla's body shivered beneath her touch was exhilarating, and Lisa felt a surge of pride in knowing she was the one bringing her partner such bliss.

Carla soon found herself arching backward, her fingers tangled in Lisa's hair as she held her steady, succumbing to a wave of pleasure that sent her over the edge into a powerful climax. Afterward, Lisa leaned back, casually wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before savouring the taste on her fingers.

"You taste absolutely incredible.”

Carla’s body slowly relaxed against the door, her pulse still racing, her skin flushed with the lingering aftershocks of what had just passed between them.

Lisa straightened, her expression soft now, the teasing replaced by quiet affection. She brushed a stray lock of hair from Carla’s face and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead.

“You okay?” she murmured.

Carla gave a shaky laugh, her voice still catching on her breath. “More than okay. I can’t feel my legs, but… in a good way.”

Lisa smiled, resting her forehead against Carla’s. “You’re impossible,” she whispered. “But completely worth it.”

Carla’s hands slid around her waist, holding her close. “You’re not so bad yourself,”

Carla let her dress slip from her hips, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She was just about to return the favour when the bathroom door swung open.

“You two finished in there? Everyone’s waiting for the speeches!” Michelle called out.

“Speeches?” Lisa groaned, hand hovering over the lock. “Can’t we save that for the wedding? I hate public speaking.”

“Chelle, do we really have to?” Carla asked, trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” Michelle said firmly. “Two minutes each, then you can go home and enjoy the rest of your night… alone. In bed.”

Carla rolled her eyes, laughing softly as she reached for Lisa’s hand. “Come on, might as well get it over with before Michelle sends a search party.”

Lisa groaned but let herself be pulled along. “You owe me for this,” she muttered as Carla tugged her out of the toilets and back into the soft glow of the bistro lights.

The chatter dipped as they entered, and a few cheers went up from their friends. Ryan stood by the DJ booth, grinning, microphone in hand.

“Right then,” he said. “Who’s brave enough to start?”

Carla didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go first,” she said, taking the mic before Lisa could protest.

She turned to face the small crowd — familiar faces, warm smiles — and then her gaze found Lisa’s. The rest of the room seemed to fade.

“If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d end up falling for a woman,” Carla began, voice steady but soft, “I’d have laughed you out of the room. But then she walked into my life — stubborn, brilliant, impossible not to love.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, and Carla smiled.

“I’ve had my fair share of chaos, but Lisa… she’s my calm in the middle of it all. She’s made me braver, kinder — and, well, occasionally more patient.”

That earned another laugh, this time from Lisa herself.

Carla’s tone softened. “I never imagined I’d find this kind of happiness, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single moment. So here’s to unexpected love — and to the woman who turned my whole world upside down in the best possible way.”

Applause filled the room, and Carla handed the microphone over to Lisa with a grin.

“Your turn, officer,” she said, giving Lisa’s hand a squeeze.

Lisa took a deep breath as the applause faded, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks. “Thanks for that, darling,” she said with a small smile. “No pressure, then.”

A few people chuckled, and that helped loosen the knot in her stomach. She glanced around the room, then back at Carla — who was watching her with that same look that always made her feel seen.

“I’ll be honest,” Lisa began, voice low but steady. “After losing Becky, I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. Not the kind that feels easy, or safe, or… right. I thought that part of my life was over.”

The room quieted. Even the music seemed to pause.

“But then Carla came along,” she continued, her smile widening. “And somehow, she saw through every wall I’d built. She didn’t just walk into my life — she walked straight into Betsy’s too. And the way she loves her, the way she’s made us a family again… I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she didn’t shy away from it.

“Carla, you’ve given me more than I ever thought I’d have again — laughter, chaos, the occasional argument over who should make tea… but most of all, love. Real love. And I wouldn’t trade a second of it.”

Applause broke out again — louder this time, heartfelt — and Lisa blinked away the tears that threatened to fall.

Carla stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close as the crowd cheered.

“See?” Carla whispered against her ear. “Told you speeches weren’t so bad.”

The bistro burst into applause as Lisa finished her speech, the sound filling every corner of the room. Ryan let out a cheer from beside the DJ booth. “That’s the kind of speech we needed tonight!” he said with a grin.

Betsy pushed away from the table where she’d been sitting with Amy and Lauren, a proud smile lighting up her face. She strode over and threw her arms around both women.

“You two were amazing.“

Cheers, love,” Carla said, hugging her back. “Didn’t make you cringe too much, then?”

Betsy rolled her eyes, grinning. “A bit. But it was cute. Proper cute.”

Fiz and Izzy joined them, each holding a glass of prosecco.

“That was lovely, honestly,” Fiz said warmly. “You two are what this place needs — bit of happiness for once.”

Izzy nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice seeing someone get it right for a change.”

From across the room, Kirk’s voice piped up. “So, wait — does that mean Carla’s your stepmum now, Betsy, or is it like… bonus mum?”

“Let’s just stick with Carla for now, yeah?”

The laughter lingered, light and familiar, until people started drifting toward the door — coats over arms, hugs exchanged, a few lingering goodbyes. Nick waved from behind the bar.

“Lock up when you’re done, yeah? And don’t drink the good wine.”

Carla gave a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Soon the bistro was quiet again — the lights dimmed, the chairs half-tucked in, the street outside calm. Only the soft hum of the speakers remained, a slow song playing through the empty room.

Carla reached for Lisa’s hand. “One last dance before we go?”

Lisa smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

They began to sway, slow and unhurried, surrounded by the faint scent of wine and laughter that still hung in the air. The world outside could wait. For now, it was just them — two women who had found their way back to love, against all odds.