Chapter 4: Morning After, No Regrets
Dawn came slow and gray through the half-drawn curtains, the kind of light that didn't quite commit to being morning yet. Zoe lay still, her eyes open, watching the ceiling fan turn lazy circles above the bed.
Izie's arm was draped across her stomach, dead weight, warm. Her breath came in slow, even pulls against Zoe's shoulder, and every exhale stirred the fine hairs at the back of Zoe's neck.
The room smelled like sex and citrus body spray. Something sweet underneath—the lip gloss Zoe had stolen from Izie's vanity around three in the morning, when they'd finally stopped touching long enough to get water. Cherry, maybe. Or strawberry. Zoe couldn't remember.
She waited for it.
The shame. The cold wash of regret that always came after. The voice in her head that said you gave too much, you always give too much, and now you'll have nothing left when she leaves.
She waited.
It didn't come.
Izie shifted, her arm tightening, pulling Zoe closer. Her nose pressed into Zoe's hair, and she made a small sound—something between a sigh and a hum—that vibrated through Zoe's skull.
"You're awake," Izie mumbled.
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"Hour. Maybe two."
Izie's eyes opened, bleary and unfocused. She blinked at Zoe, then at the ceiling, then back at Zoe.
"You've been lying here for two hours?"
"Not lying. Thinking."
"That's worse." Izie's voice was rough with sleep. "What were you thinking about?"
Zoe turned her head. Their faces were close—close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in Izie's brown eyes, the faint crease between her brows.
"I was thinking about how I usually feel after," Zoe said. "And how I don't feel that way right now."
Izie was quiet for a moment. Her hand moved, slow circles on Zoe's stomach.
"What do you usually feel?"
"Like I've made a mistake. Like I've given someone a piece of me and they're just going to walk away with it." Zoe swallowed. "Like I'm too much and not enough at the same time."
Izie's fingers stilled.
"That's fucked up," she said.
"Yeah."
"Who did that to you?"
Zoe laughed, but it came out hollow. "Pick a name. Any name."
Izie propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Zoe. Her hair was a disaster—tangled and flat on one side—and there were pillow creases on her cheek. She was the most beautiful thing Zoe had ever seen.
"I'm not going to do that," Izie said.
"Do what?"
"Make you feel that way." Izie's voice was steady. "I don't know what happened before. I don't know who hurt you. But I'm not going to be another name on that list."
Zoe's throat tightened.
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll try." Izie leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I can promise I'll fuck up, because I'm me, and I always fuck up. But I can promise I'll never do it on purpose."
Zoe closed her eyes. The kiss lingered on her skin, warm and dry.
"That's enough," she whispered.
They lay there for a while longer, tangled in the sheets. The light through the curtains shifted from gray to gold, and somewhere outside, a bird started singing. Not a pretty song—something harsh and repetitive, like it was yelling at the sky.
"I've never let anyone stay," Izie said.
Zoe opened her eyes. "What?"
"Before. I've never let anyone stay the night." Izie's voice was quiet, almost distant. "I always make them leave. Or I leave. I don't—I don't sleep next to people."
"Why?"
"I don't know." Izie's fingers resumed their circles on Zoe's stomach. "I guess I was scared. Of what they'd see. Of what I'd say in my sleep. Of waking up next to someone and realizing I'd made a mistake."
Zoe turned onto her side, facing Izie. Their knees bumped. Their breath mingled.
"And now?"
Izie met her eyes.
"Now I don't want you to leave."
The words hung in the air between them. Zoe felt something crack open in her chest—something that had been locked tight for years.
"I don't want to leave," she said.
Izie kissed her. Soft at first, just a press of lips. Then deeper, her tongue sliding against Zoe's, her hand moving from Zoe's stomach to her hip, pulling her closer.
Zoe made a sound—a small, needy thing—and kissed her back.
The morning light was different from the lamplight. Harsher, more honest. Zoe could see everything now—every freckle on Izie's shoulders, every scar, every imperfect inch of her. And she wanted all of it.
Izie pulled back, breathless.
"Tell me something," she said.
"Anything."
"Something real. Something you've never told anyone."
Zoe thought. The words were there, buried deep, but they'd been buried so long that pulling them out felt like surgery.
"My parents don't know I'm gay," she said.
Izie's expression didn't change. She just waited.
"I've known since I was fourteen. I've had girlfriends. I've been in love—or what I thought was love—but I've never told them." Zoe's voice was steady, but her hands were shaking. "They're not bad people. They're just... they have this idea of who I am. This picture. And I can't—I can't be the one to break it."
"Zoe—"
"I know it's cowardly."
"It's not cowardly." Izie's hand found hers, fingers intertwining. "It's survival."
Zoe looked at her.
"You don't think I'm pathetic?"
"I think you're human." Izie squeezed her hand. "I think you're doing the best you can with what you've got. And I think when you're ready, you'll tell them. Or you won't. Either way, it's your choice."
Zoe's eyes burned. She blinked, hard, and the tears retreated.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For not trying to fix me."
Izie smiled. It was a small thing, barely there, but it crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"I'm not here to fix you," she said. "I'm here to fuck you."
Zoe laughed—a real laugh, loud and startled—and Izie grinned.
"That was smooth," Zoe said.
"I know."
"You're terrible."
"You love it."
Zoe kissed her. Hard. Her hand slid into Izie's hair, holding her in place, and her body pressed forward until Izie was on her back and Zoe was on top of her.
"I want you," Zoe breathed against her mouth.
"You had me last night."
"I want you again."
Izie's hands found Zoe's hips. "Then take me."
Zoe didn't need to be told twice.
She kissed down Izie's neck, over her collarbone, down her chest. She took her time—licking, sucking, biting—until Izie was writhing beneath her, fingers tangled in the sheets, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Zoe—"
"Yeah?"
"Stop teasing."
Zoe grinned against her skin. "You said that last night."
"And I meant it then too."
Zoe's hand slid down Izie's stomach, over her hips, between her legs. She was already wet—soaked, actually—and Zoe's fingers slid through the slick heat with ease.
"Fuck," Zoe whispered.
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please touch me. Please— I need—"
Zoe pressed two fingers against Izie's entrance, not pushing in, just resting there. Izie's hips bucked.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes—fuck—yes—"
Zoe pushed in. Slow. Deliberate. She watched Izie's face the whole time—the way her mouth fell open, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her back arched off the bed.
"Fuck," Izie gasped.
"Good?"
"Yes—don't stop—"
Zoe didn't stop. She moved her fingers in a steady rhythm, curling them just right, watching Izie come apart beneath her. And then she lowered her head and pressed her mouth to Izie's clit.
Izie screamed.
Not loud—muffled by her own hand flying to her mouth—but a scream nonetheless. Her hips jerked, her thighs clamped around Zoe's head, and Zoe had to hold her down to keep her in place.
"Fuck—Zoe—fuck—"
Zoe's tongue worked in tandem with her fingers. Licking, sucking, thrusting. She could taste Izie on her lips, in her mouth—musky and sweet and so fucking good. She could feel Izie's walls clenching around her fingers, could feel the tremors running through her body.
"I'm gonna—I'm gonna—"
"Come for me," Zoe murmured against her. "Come on my fingers. Come on my mouth. Let me feel you."
Izie came with a broken cry, her body convulsing, her fingers fisting in Zoe's hair. Zoe worked her through it, drawing it out, until Izie had to push her away.
"Too much—too much—"
Zoe pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was grinning.
"Good morning," she said.
Izie laughed, breathless and shaky. "Good morning."
Zoe crawled up the bed and collapsed beside her. They lay there, tangled together, sweat cooling on their skin.
"So," Izie said after a moment.
"So."
"Come to dinner."
Zoe turned her head. "What?"
"Dinner. Tonight. At my parents' house." Izie's voice was casual, but her eyes were watchful. "They're having a thing. Nothing fancy—just family. But I want you there."
Zoe's heart stuttered.
"Your parents?"
"Yeah."
"Meeting your parents?"
"That's usually what dinner at someone's house means."
Zoe sat up, pulling the sheet with her. "Izie, I don't—I'm not—"
"You're not what?"
"I'm not good at this. Meeting people. Being charming. I'll say something weird and they'll hate me and then you'll—"
"Stop." Izie sat up too, facing her. "You're not going to say something weird. And even if you do, they won't hate you. They're not like that."
"But what if—"
"Zoe." Izie took her face in her hands. "I want you to meet them. Not because I need their approval. Because I want them to know you. I want them to see who I'm with."
Zoe's throat was tight.
"You've never brought anyone home?"
"Never." Izie's thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You're the first."
The words settled into Zoe's chest, warm and terrifying.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll come to dinner."
Izie kissed her. Soft and slow and full of something that Zoe couldn't name.
"Good," Izie murmured against her lips. "Now let's shower. You smell like sex and I'm not mad about it, but my mom will be."
Zoe laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do."
They tumbled out of bed, still tangled in the sheets, and stumbled toward the bathroom. The water heater groaned when they turned on the shower, and the spray was lukewarm at best, but neither of them cared.
They stood under the water, washing each other slowly, deliberately. Izie's hands in Zoe's hair, working the shampoo into a lather. Zoe's hands on Izie's back, tracing the curve of her spine.
"I'm nervous," Zoe admitted.
"I know."
"What if they don't like me?"
"They will."
"How do you know?"
Izie kissed her forehead, water dripping down both their faces.
"Because I do."
Zoe closed her eyes. The water ran over her, washing away the sweat and the doubt and the fear. When she opened them again, Izie was smiling at her.
"One step at a time," Izie said.
"One step at a time," Zoe echoed.
They finished their shower in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. The kind that didn't need filling.
Later, Zoe stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel, staring at her reflection. Her hair was still wet. Her face was bare. She looked young and scared and hopeful all at once.
Izie appeared behind her, wrapping her arms around Zoe's waist.
"You're beautiful," Izie said.
"I'm terrified."
"Same thing."
Zoe turned in her arms, facing her. "What do I wear?"
"Something you're comfortable in. Something that's you."
"Everything I own is Cyberpunk merch or jeans."
"Then wear jeans." Izie kissed her nose. "My parents have seen me in worse."
Zoe laughed. "I find that hard to believe."
"You'd be surprised." Izie released her and crossed to the closet, pulling out a shirt. "Here. Wear this."
It was a simple black button-down, soft and well-worn.
"It's yours," Zoe said.
"So?"
"It'll smell like you."
Izie grinned. "Exactly."
Zoe took the shirt. She held it to her face, breathing in. Lavender and something else—something warm and clean that was just Izie.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Izie's grin widened. She grabbed Zoe's hands and pulled her close, kissing her deep and slow.
"One step at a time," she whispered.
Zoe nodded. Her heart was pounding, but for once, it wasn't fear.
It was anticipation.