For a heartbeat—
maybe two—
Sera couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t move.

The way Lana looked at her—
Like she was something new and wild and worthy—
it didn’t just shake her.
It wrecked her.

No one had ever seen her like this before.
Not Asher.
Not her parents.
Not even herself.

But Lana—
God, Lana looked at her like she was the whole damn sky.

Sera felt the tremble start at the base of her spine, working its way up through her ribs, her throat, blooming behind her eyes in a rush of something bright and stupid and so much she didn’t know what to do with it.

Run, her mind hissed, old and scared.

But her heart—
Her heart leaned in.

Her heart wanted.

Before she could second-guess it—
Before she could spiral back into the thousand ways she could mess this up—
Sera moved.

Slow.
Shaky.
Real.

She lifted her hands—careful, deliberate—and cupped Lana’s face between them.

Not graceful.
Not practiced.
Just—need.

Her thumbs brushed over Lana’s cheekbones, soft and unsteady, and she felt Lana shudder under her touch.

“You...” Sera started, voice breaking, breathless, a mess of too many words and not enough air.
She swallowed, blinking up at her, lashes sticky with something she didn’t want to name yet.

“You make it really hard to breathe, you know that?”

It was supposed to sound teasing.
Sharp.
Like something she'd say with a toss of her hair and a glittering smile.

But it didn’t.

It just came out wrecked.
Bare and honest in a way that made her chest ache.

And before she could think—before she could ruin it with fear—
Sera pulled Lana back in.

Closed the distance the same way she had before—messy and impulsive and brave.

She kissed her.

Not perfect.
Not polished.

Real.

Clutching Lana’s face like she might vanish if she let go.
Breathing her in like oxygen.

Trusting her to catch her when she fell.

Because that’s what this was—
falling.

And for the first time in her life,
Sera Vale wasn’t afraid of how hard.

Lana didn’t stand a chance.

The second Sera’s hands found her face—shaky and soft and desperate—something inside her gave out.

No walls.
No patience.
No pretending she wasn’t wrecked by this girl who looked at her like she was drowning and somehow still chose to jump.

When Sera kissed her—
messy, trembling, real—
Lana kissed her back like her life depended on it.

She dropped one hand from Sera’s waist to cup the back of her neck, threading her fingers through the loose, wild fall of her hair, anchoring her there like she was something precious.

The other stayed planted low on her back, steady and grounding, feeling every frantic shiver rack through her.

God, she was shaking.
Shaking like she didn’t know if she was allowed to want this.
Shaking like she was scared of how much she already did.

Lana pressed closer.
Chest to chest.
Heartbeat to heartbeat.

She kissed her like she could take some of that fear away.
Like she could pour steadiness into her skin through every slow, reverent sweep of her mouth.
Like she could say I’ve got you without ever needing to speak.

And when Sera whimpered—soft and broken and sharp against her lips—
Lana lost whatever last scrap of self-control she had left.

She slid her hand from Sera’s hair down to her jaw, tilting her face just enough to deepen the kiss, slow and aching and deliberate.

Not greedy.
Not rough.

Just…
more.

More of her.
More of this.

More of whatever miracle it was that had Sera Vale crumbling in her arms and choosing not to run.

When they finally broke apart—because they had to, because breathing was apparently still required—
Lana stayed close.

Forehead against forehead.
Breath catching between them.
Fingers still tangled tight in Sera’s hair and jacket like she didn’t trust the world not to steal her away if she let go.

“You’re doing perfect,” Lana whispered, voice low and wrecked and steady.

It wasn’t a line.
It wasn’t a tease.

It was the truth.

And maybe—maybe if she said it enough times—
Sera would start to believe it too.

Lana wasn’t sure how she was still standing.

Sera—wrecked and trembling and clutching her like she was the only thing keeping her upright—was burning her alive from the inside out.

Every soft gasp.
Every tiny shift closer.
Every frantic heartbeat fluttering against her palm.

It was undoing her.

Slowly.
Irrevocably.

She held her like something fragile, thumb brushing lazy circles against the swell of her chest, feeling every unsteady breath Sera dragged into her lungs.

And still—God, still—Sera stayed.

Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t pull away.

Just—trusted her.

It was that trust that wrecked Lana more than anything.

That trust that made her move even slower, even softer, like she could pour steadiness into Sera through her hands if she tried hard enough.

She slid her hand down, slow and deliberate, along the delicate line of silk and lace.
Tracing the curve of her ribs.
The soft dip of her waist.

And when her fingers found the top of Sera’s jeans—
the warm denim stretched snug over her hips—
Lana paused.

Breathing her in.
Giving her time.

Her fingers hooked lightly into the waistband—barely a touch—just a question, hanging there between them like a heartbeat.

And Sera—
Sera let out a shaky, broken breath against her shoulder.

Didn’t pull back.
Didn’t say no.

She just leaned into her harder, clutching the front of Lana’s jacket like she was anchoring herself to the earth.

So Lana moved.

Slow.
Gentle.
Sure.

She slipped her hand inside—between the loose gap of denim and Sera’s warm skin—feeling the heat of her, the wild tremble running under the surface.

God, she was soft.
So warm it almost hurt to touch her.

She didn’t push farther yet.
Didn’t rush it.

She just rested her hand there—low on her stomach, just above her hips—feeling the frantic pulse beating against her fingertips.

Grounding her.
Holding her.

Telling her I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” Lana whispered, voice wrecked and low, forehead still pressed against Sera’s temple.

“You’re so fucking brave.”

She slid her hand a little lower—still outside of anything forbidden, still giving Sera room to breathe—but enough that she could feel her whole body tense and shiver against her.

Not in fear.

In want.

In trust.

And Lana—God—Lana stayed steady.

Worshipping her.
Ruined by her.

And ready—
whenever Sera was—
to fall even harder.

For a second—
a full, aching second—
Sera almost did it.

Almost panicked.
Almost pushed Lana back.
Almost crumpled under the weight of everything she wasn’t sure she knew how to be.

Because God.
Nothing had ever felt like this before.

Not Asher’s eager hands fumbling in the dark.
Not whispered kisses from boys who wanted to collect her like a trophy.
Not even the messy, half-drunk mistakes she swore didn't mean anything when they were on a break.

This—
Lana—
was something else entirely.

Everywhere Lana touched her—
soft, patient, steady—
it felt like being rewritten from the inside out.

It was too much.
It was perfect.

It made her want to cry and laugh and crawl inside herself and never let go all at once.

Sera squeezed her eyes shut, fingers tightening even harder in Lana’s jacket, dragging her closer like she could hide in the curve of her body if she just tried hard enough.

When Lana's hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, resting there—not taking, not forcing, just being there—
Sera thought she might actually break apart.

But Lana didn’t rush.
Didn’t push.

She just stayed.
Breathing slow and steady against her temple, letting her feel it.
Letting her choose.

You’re doing perfect, baby.
You’re so fucking brave.

Sera shuddered—sharp and involuntary—and something cracked wide open inside her chest.

She wasn’t perfect.
She wasn’t polished.
She wasn’t even sure she was brave.

But Lana said it like it was already true.
Said it like Sera could borrow some of that steadiness just by holding on a little tighter.

So she did.

Her hands slid higher, desperate, reckless, curling into the soft fabric at Lana’s shoulders, clinging there like she could tether herself to the only real thing she’d touched in months.

Her breathing hitched.
Not from fear this time.
Not exactly.

From want.

From trust.

From the bone-deep, terrifying certainty that she didn’t want Lana to stop.
Didn’t want to be safe.
Didn’t want to be untouched and untouched and untouched until she didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

She wanted to be known.

Even if it terrified her.
Especially because it terrified her.

Sera tipped her head back just slightly—enough to brush her nose against Lana’s cheek, enough to feel the way her own skin burned where they touched—and dragged in a shaky breath.

“Don’t—”
Her voice cracked, soft and pleading and wrecked.

She swallowed hard, forced herself to lift her eyes, wide and wet and so fucking open.

“Don’t be careful with me.”

It slipped out before she could stop it.

Honest.
Raw.

An echo of every wild, reckless thing she didn’t know how to say out loud yet.

Don’t treat me like I’m fragile.
Don’t act like I’ll break.
I want this. I want you.

She felt Lana freeze—
felt the way her hands tightened just slightly where they rested against her trembling skin.

And Sera—

Sera stayed.

Terrified.
Shaking.
Alive.

Wanting.

And ready—
God, finally ready—
to burn for it.

Lana didn’t hesitate this time.

Not after the way Sera said it.
Not after the way she stayed—trembling, terrified, alive—and still opened herself anyway.

Don’t be careful with me.

It wasn’t a dare.
It wasn’t a test.

It was a gift.

And Lana—wrecked, breathless, shaking with how much she loved her—was going to answer it the only way she knew how.

She kissed Sera once—slow, deep, wrecking them both—and slid her hand lower.

To the button of her jeans.

Fumbling, not from nerves, but from the sheer, blinding want in her chest.

She popped it open with a small, sharp sound.
Dragged the zipper down slow enough that Sera’s breath hitched—sharp and broken—into Lana’s mouth.

And then—
God, then she moved.

One hand braced against Sera’s hip.
The other gripping the denim.

And she pulled.

Not rough.
Not cautious.

Sure.

She dragged the jeans down—over the soft curve of Sera’s hips, down the long tremble of her thighs—until they were bunched around her knees, leaving her almost completely bare except for the thin, damp scrap of underwear clinging between them.

Sera gasped—wrecked and open and wild—and clutched at Lana’s shoulders like she didn’t know whether to pull her closer or hold herself together.

And Lana—
God, Lana gave her no room to doubt.

She kissed down her throat, her chest, the soft hollow between her breasts, while her hands roamed—slow, deliberate—across every new inch of skin she’d uncovered.

Mapping her.
Memorizing her.
Worshipping her.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Lana whispered against her skin, voice cracking with the weight of it.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”

She nudged Sera’s thighs wider with steady hands, settling herself between them, body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat.

And Sera—

Sera let her.

Still shaking.
Still scared.

But letting Lana in anyway.

Choosing her.

And Lana—wrecked, reverent, on fire from the inside out—knew she would spend every breath she had proving to her that it was safe to want like this.

Safe to burn.

Safe to belong.

Lana thought she’d been wrecked before.
Thought she’d felt what it was to want someone so much it made her bones ache.

But this—
this trembling, wild, brave girl in front of her—

it was something else entirely.

Sera lay back against the pile of jackets and crumpled denim, hair a halo of chaos around her flushed face, body trembling, thighs parted just enough for Lana to see the way she wanted it—wanted her—without hiding anymore.

And Lana—
God, Lana couldn’t breathe for how beautiful she was.

She kissed the soft, gasping hollow of Sera’s throat once, twice,
then shifted lower.

One hand braced at her hip.
The other—wrecked and trembling—traced down the inside of her thigh.

Feather-light.
Lazy.

Sera shuddered—sharp and helpless—her hips twitching upward like she couldn’t decide whether to chase the touch or run from it.

Lana smiled against her skin—wrecked and reverent—and kissed her again.
Soft.
Steady.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” she murmured, letting her fingers drift higher.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

She let her hand brush slow, endless circles over the sensitive skin of Sera’s inner thighs—feeling her shake, feeling the heat radiating off her, feeling the way every muscle in her body begged without words.

And then—

Lana cupped her.

Full and warm, hand pressing over the damp, trembling heat of her through the thin scrap of her underwear.

Sera gasped—sharp and broken—and arched into her palm without even thinking.

And God—

God, Lana felt it.

Felt how wet she was.
How ready.
How much she wanted.

A low, wrecked sound tore out of Lana’s throat before she could catch it.

She pressed her forehead to Sera’s shoulder, kissed the flushed, trembling skin there, and whispered—wrecked and reverent—

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.”

Sera whimpered—wrecked and wrecking—and Lana rocked her hand once, slow and firm, grinding the heat of her palm against the soaked cotton.

“You want this that bad, huh?” Lana murmured, kissing the corner of her jaw, her temple, every gasping, desperate inch she could reach.
“You want me that bad?”

Sera sobbed out something wordless—hands clawing at Lana’s back, dragging her closer—and Lana answered the only way she knew how:

By giving her more.

By pressing her hand harder—cupping her fully, grinding slow, devastating circles against the slick heat soaking through her panties—
worshipping every broken gasp, every helpless grind of Sera’s hips into her touch.

And when Sera cried out her name—wrecked and wrecking both of them—
Lana smiled against her skin.

Ruined.
Worshipping.
Hers.

She couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t be anything but this—
heat and heartbeat and Lana.

Her jeans hit her knees, and Sera felt it everywhere.
Not just the exposure—
the vulnerability.
The way it stripped her of every mask, every layer of control she’d worn like armor since middle school.

And still—
God, still—
she didn’t run.

Her breath hitched—sharp and panicked—and she clutched at Lana’s shoulders like gravity had gone sideways.

But Lana was still there.
Steady hands.
Steady voice.
Worshipful eyes.

Like Sera wasn’t coming apart—
like she was supposed to.

Lana kissed her—down her throat, her collarbone, the fluttering hollow between her breasts—and Sera nearly sobbed.
Because no one had ever touched her like this.

Not like she was something to chase.
Not like a trophy.
Not even like a fantasy.

Like she was real.

Her thighs shook when Lana knelt between them.
Not from fear.
Not anymore.

From the ache of it.
The truth of it.
From the feeling that maybe—just maybe—she was allowed to want this.

And God, she wanted.

She gasped when Lana’s hand touched her there—cupped her, full and firm—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like Sera hadn’t been trained her whole life to tuck this part of herself away, to wrap it in politeness and shame and don’t talk about that, sweetheart.

But there was nothing shameful about the way Lana touched her.
Nothing hidden in her voice when she whispered, You’re so wet for me.

Sera’s head dropped back, a broken cry cracking free before she could catch it.

She didn’t recognize her own voice.
Didn’t recognize the sounds she was making—gasps and whimpers and wanting, all tangled up into something wild and alive.

Her hips rocked up—helpless, instinctive—chasing the rhythm Lana gave her, grinding into her palm with something close to desperation.

She wasn’t in control anymore.

And for once in her life, she didn’t want to be.

Lana whispered again—You want me that bad?—and Sera’s nails dug into her back, dragging her closer, needing her like she needed air.

“Yes,” she choked.
“God, yes, I want you—”

It tumbled out raw.
Too honest.
Too fast.

But Lana didn’t laugh.
Didn’t blink.

She gave.

More pressure.
More rhythm.
More of that slow, devastating worship that made Sera’s whole body arch and burn.

She felt herself unraveling—
a slow, hot spiral that started low in her stomach and curled up her spine like a live wire.

Her body shuddered, hips bucking, hands grabbing at Lana like she could hold onto something—anything—before she completely came apart.

And then she did.

With Lana’s name on her mouth and her hands still fisted in her jacket,
with heat crashing through her in wild, broken waves,
with her legs trembling and her voice cracking and the air tasting like fire and silk and yes.

She came apart.

Hard.
Messy.
Real.

And Lana held her through it all.

No pressure.
No pride.
Just hands and kisses and soft, wrecked words against her skin.

Sera didn’t remember how to breathe after.
Didn’t know how to speak.

All she could do was clutch her closer, burying her face into Lana’s neck like maybe the world would stop spinning if she just stayed there long enough.

And for once—
for the first time—
Sera didn’t feel like a girl trying to be perfect.

She felt wanted.
She felt safe.

She felt like herself.

Lana didn’t want to move.

Sera was still clinging to her—quiet now, soft in the aftermath, breath warm against her collarbone like she’d finally exhaled after holding it in for years.

Lana’s hand drifted—slow and open—down her side, over the bare curve of her waist.
Not pushing.
Not asking.
Just feeling.

She brushed her thumb over the small notch of Sera’s hipbone, then across her stomach, the skin still twitching with aftershocks.

God, she was beautiful.
So fucking brave.
So impossibly real.

Lana leaned down and kissed her—barely there, just a press of her mouth to the curve of Sera’s shoulder.
A thank you.
A promise.

Sera shifted a little, arms still wrapped around her, and for a moment, Lana thought maybe they could stay like this.
Just a little longer.
Just a few more seconds inside the quiet.

But then—

The bell over the boutique door rang.

A soft chime.
Casual.
Like the world hadn’t just ended and rebuilt itself on the floor of the dressing area.

Lana froze.
Felt Sera tense beneath her, just for a moment, before going still again.

Lana kissed her once—quick and wrecked—right at the corner of her mouth.
“I’ll see you out there,” she whispered, thumb brushing lightly over Sera’s cheek.

Then she stood.
Slow.
A little wobbly.

Her reflection in the mirror was a mess—flushed, mouth kiss-bitten, pupils still blown wide—but she pulled it together fast.

Straightened her sleeves.
Tucked her shirt.
Took one last breath.

And then—

She smiled.

That perfect, bright, can-I-help-you-find-something smile she’d been using since she was sixteen.

She pushed back the curtain, stepped out into the quiet, sun-drenched front of the shop like nothing had happened.

Like her knees weren’t still shaking.
Like her heart wasn’t still somewhere back on the floor beside Sera’s open hands.

“Hi there!” she chirped, voice syrup-sweet and easy.
“Welcome to Wild Honey. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

The customer gave her a nod and wandered toward a rack of linen skirts.

And Lana?

Lana stood behind the counter with her hands flat on the wood, smiling like it didn’t hurt to breathe.

But under that smile—
under the mask—
she was still on the floor.

Still kissing Sera.
Still burning.

Sera didn’t move at first.
Couldn’t.

She stayed right there—half-dressed, legs still shaking, breath still unsteady—watching Lana go like she wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

The curtain swayed once behind her, then stilled.

And just like that, she was alone.

The air felt thinner without her.
Like Lana had taken something with her when she left—something Sera hadn’t even realized she’d given away.

She blinked once, slow.
Then again.

The high crested wave of the moment was gone—what was left was the after.
The silence.
The ache.

The part where she had to put herself back together.

Sera dragged in a shaky breath and looked at herself in the mirror.

Not ruined.
Not radiant.

Just… real.

Her lipstick was mostly gone.
Her hair was a wreck.
Her camisole was crooked and her suede jacket was still puddled on the floor like a piece of discarded armor.

She didn’t rush.
Didn’t scramble to restore herself to perfection.

She just… moved.

Quiet.
Intentional.
Shaky around the edges.

She pulled her jeans back up, slow and careful, fingers fumbling a little on the zipper.
Picked up the jacket. Slipped it back on.

This time, it didn’t sit like armor.

It just felt hers.

She didn’t bother smoothing her hair.
Didn’t check her face in the mirror.

Instead, she dug into her bag—still trembling a little—and pulled out a crumpled Wild Honey receipt and the fancy pen her mom had given her for Christmas.

The irony was not lost on her.

She wrote her number in the center of the paper—her handwriting still neat even though her fingers refused to stop shaking—and folded it twice, creasing the edges with her thumbnail.

She paused.

Then, in tiny, slanted print just beneath it, she wrote:

Maybe next time I return the favor.

Her pulse nearly exploded in her ears, but she didn’t erase it.

She meant it.

She stepped out into the boutique, soft light washing over her skin, the hush of wind-chimes and perfume filling her lungs like oxygen.

She walked back to the rack where the slip dress still hung, untouched, and rehung it with gentle fingers.

A customer stood nearby, flipping through sundresses.

Sera gave her a smile—just a bit too slow, a little off-balance, but passable.
Polished enough to blend in.
Just enough to hide how her knees were still trembling.

“She’s really good at what she does,” she murmured to the customer, flicking a glance toward the front counter where Lana stood.

The woman gave a polite little smile, nodded, and moved on.

But Sera?

She kept her eyes on Lana.

Walked right up to her—slow and calm, now that her heart had stopped trying to claw out of her chest—and slid the folded receipt across the counter.

No fanfare. No grand gesture.

Just a wink.

A real one.

A little crooked. A little wild.

And under her breath, just loud enough for Lana to hear, she said—

“Text me sometime.”

She turned to go—heart thundering, stomach twisting, alive—and didn’t look back.

But if she had,
she would’ve seen it.

That same look Lana had worn back in the fitting room.
Wrecked. Reverent.

Hers.