Chapter 25: The Afterglow
The silence in the bathroom was a living thing, thick with steam and the echo of their breathing. Y/n reached for a towel, a slab of impossibly soft cotton hanging from a heated rail, and wrapped it around herself. She passed another to Margot, who took it without a word, her eyes never leaving Y/n’s face, a small, private smile playing on her lips.
They padded, barefoot and dripping, across the cool limestone floor of the penthouse, through a hallway lined with abstract art, and into the sanctuary of the bedroom. The city was a sprawl of diamond lights beyond the wall of windows, a silent audience to their quiet retreat.
Margot pulled back the duvet, a simple gesture that felt profoundly intimate. They slid onto the sheets, the linen cool against their flushed, damp skin. The towels were discarded, puddling on the floor like shed skins.
For a long moment, they just lay on their backs, side by side, staring at the shadowed ceiling. The only sound was the faint hum of the building and the slowing rhythm of their own hearts. Y/n could feel the heat radiating from Margot’s body beside her, a palpable line of warmth in the cool, dark room.
Then Margot turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand. Her free hand came out, her index finger extending, and gently, so gently it was almost a whisper of touch, she traced the outline of the bruise on Y/n’s ribcage. The purpling bloom left by a misjudged two-by-four.
“I hate that you got hurt,” Margot said. Her voice was low, stripped of any accent, any performative edge. It was just her.
Y/n looked down at where Margot’s finger made contact. The touch didn’t hurt. It felt like an acknowledgment. “Comes with the territory. You should see the other guy.”
“The other guy being a load-bearing wall?”
“Something like that.”
Margot’s finger stilled, resting in the center of the discoloration. “Seriously, though. It makes me… I don’t know. Clench up inside. To think of you out there, and things just… happening to you.”
Y/n turned her head on the pillow. In the dim light from the windows, Margot’s features were softened, her brow slightly furrowed. This wasn’t the glamorous actress or the playful neighbor. This was someone who was genuinely, quietly worried. The realization landed in Y/n’s chest with a weight that had nothing to do with construction.
“Makes the shower better, though,” Y/n offered, aiming for a joke to lighten the air. “All that steam works out the kinks.”
Margot snorted, a soft, unladylike sound. She shifted, rolling fully onto Y/n, her body a warm, pleasant weight. She rested her chin on Y/n’s sternum, her blue eyes searching the greyish-blue ones looking back at her. “You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
“I do,” Margot admitted, no hesitation. Her gaze drifted, became thoughtful. “You know what I was thinking about in there? In the shower?”
“How to properly caulk a tub?”
Margot pinched her side, careful to avoid the bruise. “No, you ass.” She settled again, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. “I was thinking… you ever get the feeling Harley likes it? The teasing. The… being in control part of it all. The build-up.”
Y/n went still beneath her. The shift was sudden, from tenderness to this raw, playful insight. It was like Margot had reached into her own private thoughts and pulled one out, holding it up to the light. She thought of the confidence in the green tile bathroom, the way Margot had taken charge, the way Y/n had let her, had been electrified by it.
“Yeah,” Y/n said, the word rough. “I get that feeling.”
A slow, wicked grin spread across Margot’s face. “It’s fun, right? For her. Playing with the power. Getting someone all…” She trailed off, her hand making a vague, fluttering motion near Y/n’s shoulder.
“Flustered?”
“I was going to say ‘hot and bothered,’ but ‘flustered’ works for you. You get this little line right here.” Margot touched the space between Y/n’s eyebrows. “When you’re trying to play it cool and you are very, very obviously not.”
Y/n laughed then, a real, full-bodied laugh that shook both of them. “You’re a menace.”
“Takes one to know one,” Margot retorted, but she was smiling, her earlier worry momentarily shelved. She lowered her head, resting her ear against Y/n’s chest, listening to the steady thump within. “Your heart’s still going pretty fast.”
“Give it a minute. It’s had a big day. Met a movie star and everything.”
Margot’s laughter was a warm puff against her skin. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that only exists between people who don’t need to fill the space. Y/n’s hand came up, her fingers gently combing through Margot’s damp, tangled hair. It was an automatic gesture, one of sheer contentment.
“My sister called today,” Margot said after a while, her voice muffled against Y/n’s chest.
“Yeah?”
“Mmm. Wanted to know why I wasn’t in Malta for that indie film festival thing. Said I had a prior engagement.”
“Prior engagement, huh?” Y/n’s thumb traced the shell of Margot’s ear. “Sounds important.”
“It is.” Margot tilted her head to look up. “It’s me not wanting to be on a plane. It’s me wanting to be right here, in my own bed, with my…” She paused, the word hanging. She didn’t finish it. She didn’t need to. The silence that followed was full of it.
Y/n understood. They were in a room high above the city, in a bubble of linen and low light. Downstairs, in the lobby, there were paparazzi sometimes. In Margot’s phone, there were a thousand obligations. In Y/n’s apartment, there was a lunchbox that needed cleaning and boots caked with tomorrow’s dirt. None of that was here now.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Margot murmured.
“Just wondering what time my alarm’s set for.”
Margot groaned. “Don’t. Don’t bring that reality in here yet.” She pushed herself up, straddling Y/n’s hips, her silhouette a dark cut-out against the window lights. “I have an idea.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” She leaned down, her lips brushing Y/n’s. “I’m making you breakfast. A proper one. Eggs. Bacon. The whole damn thing. And you’re going to eat it and tell me it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, even if I burn it.”
Y/n smiled up at her. “You’re gonna burn it.”
“Probably.” Margot kissed her again, deeper this time, a promise and a postponement all at once. When she pulled back, her expression was earnest. “But you’ll still be here?”
The question was lighter than it sounded. It wasn’t just about the morning. It was about the space after the shower, after the sheets cooled, after the city woke up and demanded its pieces of them back.
Y/n reached up, cupping her face. Her thumb stroked the prominent arch of Margot’s cheekbone. “Where else would I go?”
The truth of it hung between them, simple and immense. Margot’s eyes softened. She nodded, once, then collapsed back beside her, tucking herself into the curve of Y/n’s body, head on her shoulder. They lay like that, watching the slow, imperceptible lightening of the sky from black to deep indigo beyond the glass, the first suggestion of dawn still hours away. The momentum of the night had settled into a steady, quiet hum, a forward motion that felt, for the first time, not like a collision, but like a path.