Make Me Moan, Daddy Chapter 63

REINA

Tessa had only been in my apartnt for only twenty minutes and already turned it into a chaotic masterpiece—clothes on the couch, heels by the lamp, lipstick tubes rolling across the rug like confetti.

And sohow, I didn’t mind.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, face lit up by the glow of my ring light, saring shimr across her eyelids like she was performing open-heart surgery.

"God, this lighting is criminal," she muttered. "How do you even see yourself in here?"

"I use the mirror like a normal person," I said, leaning back on my hands.

Tessa snorted. "Normal is boring. You should know that by now."

I laughed, watching her twist a curl behind her ear. The sll of her perfu mixed with my vanilla candle, a scent that dragged straight back to our teenage bedrooms—music blasting, secrets spilling, mascara smudged from too much laughter.

"Rember our first makeover night?" she asked, voice teasing.

"How could I forget?" I said. "You nearly blinded yourself with glitter."

She gasped dramatically. "That glitter was revolutionary."

"It was a health hazard."

She laughed so hard her eyeliner wand trembled. "Okay, maybe it was both."

It was easy, this rhythm of ours—banter and laughter filling the empty corners of my new place, turning it from strange to familiar.

We didn’t need to say it, but I felt it: this was ho. Not the walls, not the furniture. Her.

For a second, I let myself look at her properly, the soft gold of her skin, the tiny crease between her brows when she focused. She caught staring.

"What?" she said, smirking. "Do I have sothing on my face?"

"Just talent," I said.

She grinned. "Damn right."

We fell into a comfortable silence. The music playing from her phone filled the background, sothing nostalgic and too loud.

She reached for my makeup bag. "I can’t believe we’re still doing this after all these years."

"You say that like we’re eighty." I smirked, putting my bangles on.

"Reina, our knees already hurt when we dance. The betrayal has started."

I chuckled, my shoulders trembling so hard. "Speak for yourself. My knees are fine."

"Uh-huh," Tess said with a smug smile plastered on her face. "Denial is the first stage of aging."

I threw a scrunchie at her. It bounced off her shoulder, and she feigned a dramatic gasp. "Violence? In my best friend’s apartnt?"

"Only when deserved."

Her laughter softened, fading into sothing quiet. "I missed this," she said finally. "You. Us. Before everything got... complicated."

The word hung there—complicated—and I felt my throat tighten.

She didn’t an anything by it. Probably.

"Yeah," I said, picking at the hem of my skirt. " too."

She smiled faintly, then broke the silence with a clap of her hands. "Okay! Enough emotions. Ti to make you hot."

"I’m already hot."

"Not with that eyeliner."

She lunged at , brush in hand, and I squird away, laughing so hard I nearly smudged my mascara. She caught my chin gently, steadying . Our faces were close—too close—and for a heartbeat, neither of us said a word.

Her eyes searched mine, slow, careful. Then she smiled. "Still annoying."

I exhaled, the mont dissolving like sugar in tea. "You’re impossible."

"And fabulous." She gave my cheek one last pat before pulling back.

By the ti we finished, my apartnt looked like a war zone and we looked like we’d won it. Tessa spun in front of the mirror in a silver dress that caught every light in the room.

I zipped up my black satin dress and adjusted the straps.

Her voice softened. "You look insane."

I turned, startled. "In a good way, I hope."

"In the best."

The silence that followed was different this ti, heavier, warr.

She was the first to look away. "Co on. Before I start crying or sothing equally embarrassing."

I grabbed my purse and shoved my phone and my car keys inside. Adjusting the gown that was barely covering my ass one more ti before walking out of my apartnt with Tessa walking beside like a proud sister, her shoulder gently brushing against mine.

Outside, the night wrapped around us like static, streetlights humming, the city alive in its own heartbeat.

I unlocked my car—Donico’s gift, though I tried not to think about that—and Tessa slid into the passenger seat, imdiately claiming the playlist.

"Rule one of girls’ night," she declared. "Silence is forbidden."

I laughed, pressing the start button. "So is your singing."

"Rude," she said, already queuing a song.

The speakers exploded with bright, sugary pop. We sang like we were sixteen again—loud, off-key, free. The wind rushed in through the half-open windows, carrying the scent of the city and sothing electric I couldn’t na.

Streetlights flashed past in gentle streaks, the kind that made everything look softer, like the world was pretending to be kind for one night.

Tessa drumd her fingers on the dashboard, her rings catching the light.

"Tell we’re not old," she said suddenly.

I snorted. "We’re twenty-three, Tess. That’s practically ancient."

"Please," she said, flipping her hair. "If I ever start talking about mortgage rates or reusable grocery bags, shoot ."

"Noted," I said, grinning. "Death by adulting."

We laughed, loud enough to drown out the song playing in the stereo, and for a second it felt like nothing could touch us.

The traffic thinned as we left downtown. Neon signs gave way to dimr streets lined with trees, their shadows rippling across the hood. I loosened my grip on the steering wheel, humming softly to the next song as Tessa scrolled for another track.

"Wait, wait, this one," she said, hitting play. "Rember? The one we danced to at graduation?"

I groaned. "Oh God, no. We nearly broke the gym floor with that one."

"And we’d do it again," she said proudly. Then she kicked her shoes off, tucking her feet beneath her, completely at ho in my passenger seat.

She threw her hands up again. "Best night ever!"

"Best—except for Paolo," I muttered before I could stop myself. Why I said his na was sothing I didn’t understand.

Her voice dropped. "Bad husband doesn’t get a na tonight. Only us."

Sothing about the way she said it—quiet but fierce—made smile.

For a few beats, silence filled the car, the kind that wasn’t awkward but heavy with comfort. The road stretched ahead, dark and endless, and I felt that rare, dizzy kind of peace that only cos when you think you’ve outrun everything that hurt.

Then her tone shifted. "Uh, Reina?"

"What?"

She pointed behind us. "That car’s been tailing us."

My hands stilled on the wheel. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Black sedan. No headlights flashing. Just steady, patient distance.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure," she said. Her joking tone was gone now, replaced with sothing sharp. "It’s been there since we left your place."

I checked again. The sedan turned when I did. My pulse jumped.

"Maybe it’s nothing," I said, even though my voice betrayed .

"Yeah," she murmured. "Maybe."

The music felt wrong now, too happy for the air tightening between us.

"Should I?" I started.

"Just keep driving," she said, her hand brushing my arm. "We’ll figure it out. Don’t panic yet."

Her fingers lingered a second too long before pulling back. The brief contact grounded , even as my mind raced.

We drove on in silence, the city stretching out ahead like an open mouth, and the black sedan shadowing us like a heartbeat that refused to fade.