Chapter 5 Good Girls Bite Back

 

Her phone buzzed on the console. Jared’s name lit the screen.

She stared at it for a long second before she answered, voice low and dry:

“Tell me you have a terrible idea.”

Jared’s voice crackled through the speaker chortling in amusement . Bri smiled as they exchanged the kind of warm, easy banter only long-time friends could manage.

“My little sister’s boyfriend just moved into his new place—but that fucker broke his leg. She promised to help him move, and now I’m supposed to step in. I’m fucking swamped, though. I’d totally bail on the dude, but he’s actually nice. So… thought I’d ask you lot if anyone’s free to help her lug some heavy shit. If not, that brat will break her back trying to impress her man, and then Mom will kill me.”

Bri laughed. “Send the address. It’s Saturday, no date, no plans—I’m feeling generous.”

Jared whooped. “You’re a savior. I owe you!”

They hung up, and Bri sent a quick text to Jared’s sister: “On my way.”

Surprisingly, the phone rang.

“Sup, Tia,” Bri answered casually.

A sharp voice barked, “Who the hell is this?”

Bri snorted. “Who you?”

There was a shuffle on the other end, and then a sweeter voice took over.

“Hi, Aunty Bri!” Jared’s younger sister squealed into the phone.

In the background, a guy could be heard yelling, “Who the hell is hot mobster wifey!?”

Bri chuckled. “You still haven’t changed my name in your phone, huh?”

Tia giggled. “Come on, you are fated to be a mobster wife in a manhwa. I know it. You know it. Let’s not fight fate.”

All the while, the guy in the background was still protesting loudly.

“My leg’s fine! We don’t need help—especially not from a manhwa hottie! Jesus!”

Five minutes later, the purr of a sleek Porsche Coupe echoed down the neighborhood street.

It didn’t belong. The car was too elegant for the scuffed pavement, sagging porches, and faded college banners that hung from windows. Still, it pulled up smoothly and stopped in front of a small shared house with chipped paint and way too many shoes on the stoop.

Inside, Trevor’s housemates gathered at the window, drawn by the sound.

Tia burst out the front door, squealing, “She’s here!” and ran straight into the arms of a tall woman in a slate-gray blazer and a half-unbuttoned blouse, sunglasses still on despite the overcast sky.

Jessy squinted through the glass. “Damn. As a bi man, she ticks every box.”

Trevor sighed, his eyes trailing Bri as she stepped out of the car. “Why does she even look like she runs a crime syndicate?”

Tia was already chatting Bri’s ear off, jumping from topic to topic as she led her inside. The tall woman followed, smiling faintly, easily balancing a heavy box on one shoulder. The guys could hear the hum of Bri’s low chuckle, the way she encouraged Tia’s hyper rambling as they moved down the hallway.

Zara, still on the couch, shoved another chip in her mouth and kept her eyes on the reality show blaring from the screen. She wasn’t getting up. She didn’t care who had walked in.

“What the fuck is a manhwa wifey anyway?” she muttered through a mouthful of crisps.

Jessy shrugged. “Apparently, my type.”

Soon, mattress, frame, wardrobe—everything heavy—was in. Jessy and Bri handled it effortlessly, chatting the whole time while Trevor, red-faced, tried to contribute one-legged.

Eventually, Trevor limped over, holding out his wallet awkwardly. “I’ll order pizza unless... you want cash?”

He peeled out a crumpled $20 bill, cheeks red. Bri, somehow still composed and pristine, smiled.

“Pizza’s good,” she said. “Mind if I grab some water?”

Before Trevor could answer, Tia was already dragging her by the wrist. Jessy followed behind like a loyal retriever.

As they passed the living room, Bri paused—eyes locking on the woman half-sprawled across the couch.

“Candy?” she said, blinking in surprise.

Zara froze, mid-crunch, eyes widening comically.

Tia frowned, pointing. “Who’s Candy? That’s Za—”

But Zara leapt up, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Do not share my government name, brat. And you—” she gestured at Bri, “are you stalking me?”

From the floor, Jessy—who had been bumped into by the sudden halt and now sat on his ass—muttered, “Candy is her stripper name.”

“Stripper name!?” both Tia and Trevor yelled, despite Zara’s hand still muffling Tia.

“Stalking?” Bri pointed at herself, aggrieved. “I’m not stalking anyone! That brat knows me from way back!” she pointed at Tia.

Tia peeled Zara’s palm from her mouth with a grimace, wiping crumbs from her lips. She stared between the two women. The silent staring. The look in Bri’s eyes—or rather, the way her gaze drifted to the other’s chest several times over. The low smirk curling Zara’s lips despite her words, and the subtle way she angled her body toward Bri… it reeked of veiled seduction.

Tia giggled, having clocked the sexual tension.

“Oh. My. God.” she squealed, clapping her hands like a cartoon villain. “This is my manhwa subplot happening in real time.”

She pointed dramatically at Trevor and Jessy.

“We’re leaving. Candy and Mafia Wifey need space.”

Without waiting for protest, she herded them away into Trevor’s room.

Zara and Bri were left in the echo of their retreating footsteps.

One subtly taking in the view.

One still standing.

One remembering the slap.

One remembering the heat.

Zara let out a sigh, eyeing Bri with a look that danced somewhere between annoyed and amused. "So how long do you plan to stare at my chest?" she asked, arching a brow. Bri’s eyes flicked guiltily upward—caught.

"Sorry," Bri murmured, though she didn’t sound very sorry. Her gaze didn’t quite leave. "To my defense, you’re not wearing a bra."

Zara rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Bri stepped closer—too close—and her voice dropped to a quiet murmur. "If you were mine, I’d cover you up. You live with some... interesting people."

Zara huffed, unimpressed by the possessive note. "The only person in this house bothered by my attire is a guest. One I hope is leaving soon."

Bri snorted. "You’re so snarky. It really makes me want to—"

Before she could finish, a chip was shoved into her mouth. Startled, Bri blinked, then let out a soft, amused chuckle as she chewed.

Her eyes wandered to the TV. "What are we watching?"

Zara dropped onto the couch with a sigh and began explaining the ridiculous plot with the solemnity of someone describing Shakespeare. "They're all teens. But it’s season five now, so the actors are pushing forty. There’s vampires. Zombies. Werewolves. The teacher’s secretly the villain. And in this episode? A musical breakout because of a botched spell."

Bri blinked slowly. "That’s... a lot."

Zara shrugged, munching on another chip.

But Bri wasn’t watching the show. Not really. Her eyes kept drifting to Zara’s exposed thighs, to the way her tank top clung to her chest—clearly braless—and the faint outline of nipples beneath the fabric.

Another chip was raised toward her face. But this time, Bri caught the action but she didn’t avade.

Her eyes met Zara’s—dark, steady, amused. A glint of challenge.

Bri smirked. What am I a dog?

Zara’s lips twitched, I keep giving you treats but you have yet to be a good girl she replied.

A beat passed. Then Bri’s eyes narrowed, confusion flickering in their depths.

"Damn," she whispered, voice soft, searching. "Without the lenses... you look familiar. I swear..."

She let the sentence trail off as the name came unbidden.

Zara.

No. That couldn’t be right. The last time Bri saw Zara, they were fifteen. High school hallways. Desks that smelled like cheap pencil lead and disinfectant. Words that cut sharper than fists. Fear and shame in equal measure.

But the woman beside her now... this wasn’t a teenage bully. This was someone else. Grown. Soft in all the right places, toned in others. Curves that didn’t exist back then. Confidence that had aged like wine.

Still.

"Candy," Bri murmured, breath catching in her throat. "Won’t you tell me your name?"

Her heart thudded like a drum. Could it be?

A twisted part of her hoped it was. A dangerous, raw part of her. If this woman really was Zara—then yes, the right thing to do would be to run. To protect herself. To flee the weight of old wounds.

But another voice, quieter and meaner, whispered: No. Stay. Make her beg. Make her choke on what she did to you. Show her who you became. Show her power.

That thought steadied her.

Bri studied Zara’s face again, nearly certain now. As for why Zara didn’t recognize her? Easy. Back then, Bri had been all limbs and shadows. Slouched posture, tangled hair hiding her face, acne pitting her cheeks like war zones. Now she was clean-cut, towering, confident—unrecognizable even to herself some days.

Zara, on the other hand, had always been the beautiful one. The magnetic one. And now she’d grown into something even more lethal—soft yet utterly seductive, messy but hypnotic.

A third chip hovered, but Bri’s hand snapped out.

This time, she didn’t just watch the offering.

She caught Zara’s wrist, locked eyes with her, and brought the hand closer. Her mouth opened slowly—not for the chip, but for the fingers. Her teeth grazed the skin, a soft bite, teasing. Her eyes never left Zara’s.

It was a silent game.

But there was nothing playful about the heat simmering between them.

Zara hissed in pain and mumbled,

“You look at me like I’m naked. Can’t you just watch the show? Look, there are hot people on the TV. Focus on them,” she chided softly.

Bri snorted, amused. She couldn’t give a flying fuck about the show.

“This tension between us—you mean you don’t feel it? I think we really should fuck and get it over with.”

Having said this much, she rested her hand on the other woman’s thigh, eyes lazily watching the TV while her fingers drew patterns on Zara’s skin. The hitched breath Zara took felt intoxicating as Bri’s hand traveled higher—pulse spiking in anticipation and arousal. But then the other woman’s words washed over her...

“You came into my home. I get you had business here, but please don’t treat me like a whore,” Zara said quietly. “I know my job is of that nature—but please don’t think I’m an object. I’m studying to be a nurse. My aspirations and my current now aren’t free. It’s work…”

Bri startled at the honesty, brows furrowing.

“Don’t overthink shit. Yes, I want to fuck you. But nobody said anything about paying for it. I’m over here hoping you want me to fuck you.”

Her grip tightened on Zara’s thigh firmly as she awaited her reply.

But before Zara could respond, a loud gasp made them both turn to see Tia holding both hands over her mouth, Jessy standing behind her, pizza boxes in hand, gaping, and Trevor hiding his face behind his much shorter girlfriend, embarrassed.

Tia scowled. “Sex workers are people too! If you mess with her, I’ll kill you,” she threatened, pointing at Bri.

Bri chuckled. “Damn, do I come off as such an asshole? You’re seriously protecting a girl you just met from me? I’m your brother’s best friend.”

Tia paused, then nodded. “Yes. Lucas, you, and Jarhead are assholes. Well… not Lucas. But you and Jar—in a perfect world, you two should date and save the rest of us from your fuckery.”

Bri blinked. “Noted.”

She didn’t want to further entertain anyone but Zara, so—

She leaned in, breath ghosting against Zara’s neck, and asked, breathily, “Want me to serve you some pizza?”

Zara bit her lip. “My one cheat meal for the weekend was the crisps,” she pouted, and removed Bri’s hand from her thigh.

That woman sure knew how to take liberties...

“But it smells tasty,” she mumbled hungrily.

Bri bit back the urges she felt, seeing Zara’s lip swollen from the bite she’d self-inflicted.

How is she the guilty one when Zara exists this sexy on the daily?

This woman drove her wild with the most subtle of mundane gestures.

Bri clenched her fists, fighting the urge to touch and possess her.

Was this healthy? she wondered...

A new thought hit her—maybe this obsession had everything to do with their past and the trauma Zara had put her through.

The wise thing to do would be to stay away from her.

Yet Bri hardly entertained the thought.

Instead, she spun reasons to get what she wanted. And a good way that came to mind was to win over Zara—make her comply, make her come undone beneath her touch—just to kick her to the curb after.

She took a deep breath, elated at the very notion.

The anger and hurt she still felt had always had a villain.

And for ten years, that villain had been Zara.

Was it not fair to take her revenge on this woman?

Being back in this girl’s life—while complicated—was fate.

All she was doing was closing their chapter in a way that would show Zara who she had become, all because of her.

The quiet part she didn’t want to acknowledge—the part that put a slight damper on her plans—was that Zara, somehow, had grown into a decent person.

But be that as it may, it didn’t change their past.

Trevor took in the two women seated next to each other.

The sexual tension made him squirm. This was too awkward.

So he whispered to Tia, “Let’s eat in my room. I’m afraid of what we might see if we stick around.”

To Trevor’s dismay, both Jessy and his girlfriend seemed intrigued to stay and witness the scene, but he ushered them away quickly.