Chapter 5: Dinner and Desire
The sorority house loomed like a Georgian fortress, all red brick and white columns, and Zoe stood at the bottom of the steps with her heart trying to claw its way out of her throat.
She clutched the strap of her bag and forced herself to breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The shirt Izie had given her smelled like lavender and something else, something warm, and Zoe had spent the entire walk over burying her face in the collar like a weirdo.
The door swung open before she could knock.
Izie stood there in a flowing cream top and a skirt that hit mid-thigh, and Zoe's brain short-circuited.
Her legs looked endless. Her hair was down, curled just enough to look effortless, and she was wearing a thin gold necklace that disappeared into the neckline of her top. Zoe's mouth went dry.
"You're staring," Izie said.
"You look—" Zoe swallowed. "Fuck."
Izie grinned. "Eloquent."
"Shut up."
Izie stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her. She descended the steps slowly, deliberately, and stopped one step above Zoe, which put them at eye level.
"You're wearing my shirt," she said.
"You told me to."
“I didn’t think you actually would.”
Zoe’s fingers fidgeted with the hem. "Is that okay?"
Izie reached out and straightened the collar. "It's more than okay."
Then she kissed her.
Zoe dropped her bag. It hit the concrete with a dull thud, and she didn't care. She grabbed Izie's waist and pulled her close, and Izie made that sound—that soft, surprised sound she'd made last night—and Zoe wanted to hear it again.
The kiss deepened. Izie's tongue slid against hers, and Zoe forgot where they were. Forgot about the sorority house and the neighbors and the fact that anyone could walk by and see them.
She backed Izie against the column of the porch, hands sliding under her top, fingers finding skin.
"Zoe," Izie breathed against her mouth.
"Yeah?"
"We're on my front porch."
"I know."
"I have neighbors."
"Let them watch."
Izie laughed, breathless, and pushed her back. "You're a menace."
"You started it."
"I didn't—" Izie paused. "Okay, I kissed you. But you escalated."
Zoe grinned. "I'm good at that."
Izie shook her head, but she was smiling. She bent down and picked up Zoe's bag, handing it back.
"Car's around back," she said. "Come on."
The car was a midnight blue Audi that probably cost more than Zoe's entire tuition. Izie opened the passenger door for her, and Zoe slid into leather seats that smelled new and expensive.
"Nice car," she said.
"Thanks."
"Your parents buy it?"
"Birthday present." Izie started the engine. "I know. I'm spoiled."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"You were thinking it."
Zoe shrugged. "Maybe a little."
Izie pulled out of the driveway, and the car glided over the asphalt like it was floating. Zoe watched her hands on the steering wheel—long fingers, short nails, the kind of hands that knew exactly what they were doing.
"You're staring again," Izie said.
"You have nice hands."
"Thanks."
"I was thinking about last night."
Izie's grip on the wheel tightened. "Zoe."
"What?"
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't start something you can't finish." Izie glanced at her. "I'm trying to drive."
Zoe bit her lip. She knew she should stop. They had somewhere to be. Meeting Izie's parents. Important. But Izie was sitting right there, smelling like vanilla and lavender, and her skirt had ridden up just enough that Zoe could see the top of her thigh.
"I can't help it," Zoe said.
"Can't help what?"
"I can barely keep my hands off you."
Izie's breath hitched. She pulled the car to the side of the road, shifted into park, and turned to face Zoe.
"Say that again," she said.
"I can barely keep my hands off you."
Izie leaned across the console and kissed her. Hard. Her hand fisted in Zoe's hair, and her tongue pushed into Zoe's mouth like she was trying to claim something.
Zoe moaned into the kiss. Her hands found Izie's waist, then her hips, then the hem of her skirt.
Izie grabbed her wrist. "No."
"What?"
"If we don't stop, we're going to be late." Izie's voice was ragged. "And I really, really want you to meet my parents."
Zoe pulled back. Her chest was heaving.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Okay. But after dinner—"
"After dinner," Izie promised.
She kissed Zoe one more time—quick, soft—and then put the car back in drive.
The mansion was obscene.
Okay, maybe that wasn't the right word. But Zoe couldn't think of another one. It sat at the end of a long, tree-lined driveway, all gray stone and arched windows and a front door that looked like it belonged in a castle.
"You didn't tell me you lived in a mansion," Zoe said.
"I didn't say I didn't."
"You—" Zoe shook her head. "You're impossible."
Izie parked the car and turned off the engine. She didn't move to get out. Instead, she looked at Zoe with an expression that Zoe couldn't quite read.
"They're going to love you," Izie said.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"How?"
"Because I do." Izie unbuckled her seatbelt. "And because I've never brought anyone home before. They're going to be curious. Maybe too curious. My mom will probably ask you a hundred questions. Just—be yourself."
Zoe laughed. "That's terrible advice."
"Why?"
"Because myself is weird and awkward and can't make small talk."
Izie cupped her face. "Yourself is smart and funny and beautiful. And if you can't make small talk, we'll talk about something else. Cyberpunk, maybe. My dad's a gamer."
Zoe blinked. "What?"
"He pretends he isn't. But I've seen him play Skyrim. He's not subtle."
"Your dad plays Skyrim?"
"Was that a dealbreaker?"
"No." Zoe shook her head. "No, that's—that's actually kind of cool."
Izie smiled. "Ready?"
Zoe took a deep breath. "Not even a little."
"Same thing."
She got out of the car and walked around to open Zoe's door. Then she held out her hand.
Zoe took it.
The front door opened before they reached it.
A woman appeared in the doorway—dark hair streaked with silver, elegant, wearing a simple black dress. She looked at Izie, then at Zoe, then at their joined hands.
"Iz," she said. "You're early."
"I'm always early."
"You're never early." The woman's eyes crinkled. "You must be Zoe."
Zoe's voice caught in her throat. "Yes. Hi. Mrs. Polan?"
"Oh, please." She stepped forward and pulled Zoe into a hug. "Call me Meredith."
Zoe stood still for a moment, arms pinned to her sides. Then she hugged back.
Meredith smelled like expensive perfume and something baking. Cookies, maybe. She released Zoe and held her at arm's length.
“You’re as pretty as Iz said. She never tells me anything, so I had to drag it out of her.”
“Mom,” Izie said.
“What? It’s true.” Meredith winked at Zoe. “Come in. Dinner's almost ready.”
The house was warm. Not just temperature—warm. Books on shelves. Family photos. A worn leather couch in the living room, a dog bed in the corner, the faint sound of jazz from a speaker in the kitchen.
Zoe followed Izie through the hallway, trying not to stare at everything.
“Your mom hugged me,” she whispered.
“She does that.”
“I wasn’t expecting it.”
“No one ever is.”
The kitchen was huge. Marble countertops, an island big enough to land a plane, windows that looked out over a garden. A man stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot.
He turned when they walked in.
“Ah,” he said. “The famous Zoe.”
He was tall, with Izie’s dark hair and her smile. His apron said Kiss the Cook in ragged letters, and there was flour on his cheek.
“Mr. Polan?” Zoe said.
“David.” He wiped his hands on the apron and offered one to shake. “I’d hug you, but I’m covered in flour.”
Zoe shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” He looked at Izie. “You didn’t tell me she was cute.”
“Dad.”
“What? She’s cute.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“That’s my job.”
Dinner was... easy.
That was the only word Zoe could think of. It was easy. Meredith asked about her major, her classes, her favorite books. David asked about gaming—not in a performative way, but like he actually wanted to know. When Zoe mentioned Cyberpunk, his eyes lit up.
“The RPG or the video game?” he asked.
“Both. But the video game got me into it.”
“What build do you run?”
“Netrunner. Mostly.”
“Oh, you're one of those.”
Zoe laughed. “What's wrong with netrunner?”
“Nothing. Just doesn't know how to handle a monowire properly.”
“Monowires are for people who lack finesse.”
Izie buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“It’s cute,” Meredith said. “Let them nerd out.”
Zoe froze.
Meredith looked at her. “What?”
“Nothing. I just—” Zoe glanced at Izie. “I usually don’t—people don’t call it cute.”
“What do they call it?”
“Nerdy. Obsessive. Weird.”
Meredith frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Passion is attractive. David, tell her.”
“It’s attractive,” David said. “Passion is attractive.”
Zoe’s throat tightened. She looked down at her plate.
No one had ever said that to her before. Not about gaming. Not about anything.
Under the table, Izie’s hand found hers. Squeezed.
Zoe squeezed back.
After dinner, Izie gave her the tour.
The living room. The library—an actual library, with floor-to-ceiling shelves. The backyard, which had a pool and a garden and a patio with string lights.
“This is insane,” Zoe said.
“It’s just a house.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a mansion. A literal mansion.”
Izie shrugged. “I grew up here. It’s just home.”
They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Izie pointed out the guest room, the bathroom, her parents’ room.
Then she stopped at a door at the end of the hall.
“This is mine,” she said.
She pushed it open.
Zoe stepped inside.
The room was Izie. Not the Izie from campus, with her perfect hair and her perfect clothes and her perfect smile. This was the other Izie. The secret one.
Posters on the walls—not the band posters Zoe expected, but video game posters. Skyrim. Mass Effect. The Witcher.
A bookshelf crammed with paperbacks and graphic novels and strategy guides. A desk with a gaming rig that probably cost more than Zoe’s entire apartment.
“What the fuck,” Zoe whispered.
Izie closed the door behind them.
“Surprise,” she said.
“You—this whole time—”
“I told you. I’m a nerd.”
“But you said—” Zoe spun around. “You said you never show it.”
“I don’t. Not at school.” Izie stepped closer. “But I’m showing you.”
Zoe’s heart hammered.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to know me.” Izie’s voice was soft. “The real me.”
Two steps. That was all it took.
Zoe crossed the room and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry and desperate and full of everything Zoe couldn’t say. She backed Izie toward the bed, hands fumbling with the buttons on her top.
“Zoe—”
“I want you.”
“My parents are downstairs.”
“I know.”
“They’ll hear—”
“Then be quiet.”
Izie’s back hit the mattress. Zoe climbed on top of her, knees on either side of her hips, and looked down at her face.
“You’re beautiful,” Zoe said.
Izie’s breath caught. “So are you.”
Zoe kissed down her neck, over her collarbone, down her chest. She pulled the top open and pressed her mouth to the swell of Izie's breast.
Izie arched beneath her.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Zoe's hands slid up Izie's skirt. Her thighs were warm and smooth, and when Zoe's fingers found the wet heat between them, Izie gasped.
"Shh," Zoe murmured against her skin.
"I'm trying."
Zoe pulled Izie's underwear aside and slid two fingers through the slick folds. Izie's hips bucked.
"Please," she breathed.
"Please what?"
"Please—fuck—please touch me."
Zoe pushed the fabric down, and Izie kicked it off. Zoe lowered her head.
The first swipe of her tongue made Izie jerk. The second made her moan. By the third, she had a pillow pressed to her face, biting down hard.
Zoe worked her with her tongue and fingers, slow and deliberate, watching Izie come apart beneath her. Izie's thighs trembled. Her hands fisted in the sheets. She was trying so hard to be quiet, and failing.
"Zoe—Zoe, I'm close—"
Zoe didn't stop. She curled her fingers just right, and pressed her tongue flat against Izie's clit, and Izie came with a muffled scream.
Zoe kept going, drawing it out, until Izie pushed at her head.
"Stop—too much—"
Zoe pulled back, grinning.
"Good?"
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later."
Izie laughed, breathless. Then she sat up and pushed Zoe onto her back.
"My turn," she said.
She straddled Zoe's face.
Zoe looked up at her, at the flush on her cheeks and the lust in her eyes, and felt something crack open in her chest.
"Come here," she said.
Izie lowered herself. The first taste of her was overwhelming. Wet and warm and everything Zoe wanted. She licked and sucked and devoured, and Izie rode her face with abandon.
"You're so good at this," Izie gasped. "Fuck, Zoe, you're so good at this."
Zoe hummed against her, and Izie shivered.
It was building again. Zoe could feel it—the way Izie's thighs tightened, the way her rhythm became desperate. She reached up and grabbed Izie's hips, pulling her down harder, and buried her tongue inside her.
Izie came with a strangled cry. It was louder than before—not loud, but not quiet either—and they both froze.
Footsteps in the hallway.
A knock on the door.
"Everything okay in there?"
Meredith's voice, muffled through the wood.
Zoe's heart stopped. She was still between Izie's legs. Izie was still straddling her face. They stared at each other in wide-eyed horror.
"Yeah," Izie called, voice cracking. "Fine. Just—showing Zoe my books."
The door rattled as Meredith tested the handle. "Why's the door locked?"
"Privacy!"
A beat of silence.
"Okay," Meredith said slowly. "We're going to watch a movie in a bit, if you want to join."
"Maybe later!"
Another silence. Then footsteps retreated.
Neither of them moved. Zoe could feel her pulse jumping in her throat. Izie's legs were shaking.
"Holy shit," Izie whispered.
Zoe started laughing. She couldn't help it. It was the kind of laugh that came from the bottom of her gut, uncontrollable and shaky. Izie climbed off her and flopped onto the bed, and they lay there side by side, gasping, barely holding it together.
"That was—" Izie started.
"Terrible. Horrible. I'm never going to be able to look your mother in the eye again."
"She knows. She definitely knows."
"Oh god."
"She's not going to say anything. She's cool." Izie rolled onto her side. "But we should probably leave before my dad comes up."
Zoe nodded. "Yeah. Probably."
They scrambled to get dressed. Izie fixed her hair in the mirror while Zoe tried to make the bed look less like a crime scene.
"Ready?" Izie asked.
"No."
"Same thing."
They slipped out of the room and down the stairs. Meredith and David were on the couch, a movie queued up on a massive TV. Meredith glanced over her shoulder.
"Everything okay?"
"Yep," Izie said, too fast. "We actually have to head back."
"Already?"
"I have an early class tomorrow."
David frowned. "It's Friday."
"I have an early class on Saturday."
"That's not a thing."
"Goodnight, Dad."
She kissed them both on the cheek, grabbed Zoe's hand, and practically dragged her out the door.
Under the porch light, the air was cool and sharp. Zoe’s breath came out in a rush of nervous energy, and her legs were still a little unsteady from everything that had happened upstairs.
The Audi rumbled to life, and Izie pulled away from the house.
They drove in silence for a while. The headlights cut through the dark, and the trees blurred past. Zoe stared out the window, replaying everything—the dinner, the bedroom, the knock on the door—and felt a strange warmth in her chest.
Not shame. Not the cold, familiar dread. Just... warmth.
"Hey," Izie said.
"Yeah?"
"I had fun tonight."
Zoe turned to look at her. Izie’s profile was lit by the dashboard glow, soft and golden.
"Me too," Zoe said.
"Even the part where my mom almost caught us?"
"Especially that part."
Izie laughed. Then she pulled the car over again.
This time, it wasn't a side road. It was a dark stretch of highway, no streetlights, no other cars. Moonlight and silence.
Izie shifted into park.
"Come here," she said.
Zoe leaned across the console. Izie kissed her—slow at first, then deeper, her hand finding Zoe's thigh.
"You've been driving me crazy all night," Izie murmured.
"I've barely touched you."
"Exactly." Izie's hand slid higher. "You've been sitting there with your knee bouncing. Smelling like my shirt. Looking at me like you want to eat me alive."
"I do want to eat you alive."
"Later." Izie's fingers found the button of Zoe's jeans. "Right now, I want to make you come."
Zoe's breath caught.
"In the car?"
"Unless you want to get out and walk."
"No, I—" Zoe swallowed. "Okay."
Izie undid the button and pulled the zipper down. Her hand slid into Zoe's jeans, under her underwear, and Zoe felt the world tilt.
"You're so wet," Izie said.
"I've been like this all night."
"Good."
Izie's fingers slid through the slick heat, teasing, exploring. Zoe grabbed the door handle and held on.
"Please," she breathed.
"Please what?"
"Please make me come."
Izie pushed two fingers inside her.
Zoe moaned. She couldn't help it. The sound filled the car, and Izie covered her mouth with her free hand.
"Quiet," she whispered. "We're on a highway."
Zoe nodded, eyes wide. Izie's fingers moved inside her, steady and deep, and her thumb found Zoe's clit.
"Fuck," Zoe gasped against Izie's palm.
"Good?"
"Don't stop—please don't stop—"
Izie didn't stop. She leaned in and kissed Zoe's neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark, and her hand moved faster.
Zoe's hips bucked. Her grip on the door handle turned white-knuckled. She felt it building—fast and hard and inevitable—and Izie moved her hand away from Zoe's mouth just in time for her to come with a broken cry.
Izie worked her through it, slower now, until Zoe's body sagged against the seat.
"Holy shit," Zoe whispered.
Izie pulled her hand free and licked her fingers. Deliberate. Obscene. Zoe watched, hypnotized.
"You taste good," Izie said.
Zoe laughed, weak and dizzy. "You're insane."
"I know." Izie turned back to the wheel and put the car in drive. "Now pull your pants up. We're going home."
Zoe did.
The road stretched out ahead of them, dark and endless. Zoe watched the mile markers flash by and felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Safe.
Izie glanced at her. "What are you thinking?"
Zoe smiled.
"Cyborgs," she said. "I want fries. Can we stop for fries?"
"Anything you want."
"I want everything."
Izie grinned.
"Anything but that. But I'll see what I can do."