Return to normal(That was never normal)

The Seattle rain must have followed Amina home, because when her car pulled into the driveway the next afternoon, the sky was dumping buckets again. I stood at the living room window, coffee mug warm between my palms, watching her haul her overnight bag up the porch steps. She looked tired but happy — ponytail frizzy from humidity, graphic tee from the training event slightly wrinkled. Elias was in the kitchen behind me, pretending to load the dishwasher. I could feel his eyes on my back, that quiet, heavy gaze that said he was already counting down the hours until we could steal another moment. Last night’s memories still hummed under my skin: his hands on my hips, the way he’d whispered filthy praise while I rode him, the slow, deep thrusts that left me boneless and leaking him for hours afterward. My thighs pressed together involuntarily. The front door swung open with a burst of damp air. “I’m home!” Amina called, kicking off her wet sneakers. “Miss me?” “Desperately,” I lied with a smile, turning to hug her. She smelled like airport coffee and vanilla body spray. The hug felt normal on the surface — tight, familiar, the kind we’d shared since we were kids building blanket forts in this exact living room. But guilt sat heavy in my chest like wet concrete. I was hugging my best friend while still faintly sore from her father. Elias wiped his hands on a dish towel and crossed the room, pulling her into one of those bear hugs that always made her look small. “How was the training? Learn anything useful?” Amina launched into a full recap while she raided the fridge for leftover pizza. “The instructor was this total visionary from Portland — talked about sustainable branding and color psychology. I took so many notes my hand cramped. Oh, and the hotel had the best continental breakfast. You guys should’ve seen the waffle station.” We settled on the sectional like old times. Amina in the middle, legs tucked under her, remote in hand. Elias took the armchair across from us instead of his usual spot beside me. Smart. Careful. But his foot still brushed mine when he stretched out, a secret “I’m here” that sent warmth up my leg. I tried to focus on the movie Amina picked — some new rom-com with awkward meet-cutes and grand gestures. But my mind kept drifting. To the way Elias had looked at me this morning over breakfast, eyes soft and hungry at the same time. To the texts he’d sent while Amina was away: Can still taste you. Counting minutes until I can have you again. To the terrifying, thrilling thought that kept circling: what if one of those nights without protection had already changed everything? Halfway through the movie, my phone buzzed. I glanced down discreetly. Elias: You keep biting your lip like that and I’m going to have to excuse myself to the garage. I coughed, cheeks heating. Amina didn’t notice — she was too busy texting Lena about tomorrow’s café shift. The rest of the afternoon melted into small-town rhythm. Mrs. Delgado dropped by unannounced with a plate of her famous cinnamon rolls “because I saw Amina’s car and figured you kids needed sugar after all that rain.” She settled at the kitchen table like she owned the place, chatting about the upcoming Willow Creek Summer Festival. “You girls should help with the booth setup again this year,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Zara, you always had the best ideas for the games. And Elias — that beautiful deck you built last year is still the talk of the planning committee.” Elias chuckled from the sink where he was rinsing dishes. “Happy to help wherever you need me, Mrs. D.” Tyler texted the group chat while we were eating the rolls: Beach bonfire tonight? Mia’s bringing marshmallows. Low key, just us + a few others. Rain supposed to let up. Amina lit up. “Yes! I need to decompress. Zara, you in?” I hesitated half a second. Elias’s gaze flicked to me — protective, a little possessive. “Sounds fun,” I said. “Count me in.” He nodded slowly. “I’ll drive you guys if you want. Save the gas.” Amina rolled her eyes fondly. “Dad, we’re twenty. We can walk six blocks.” But when evening came and the drizzle eased to mist, Elias still found an excuse to walk with us partway — “heading to the hardware store anyway for some sealant.” His hand brushed the small of my back as we passed the community center, hidden from Amina’s view by the angle of the streetlight. The touch lingered, thumb stroking once like he couldn’t help himself. At the beach, a small crowd had already gathered around the permitted fire pit. Tyler waved us over, Mia handing out sticks for marshmallows. Lena showed up with her girlfriend, plus a couple of other locals I recognized from high school — Sarah who worked at the library, and quiet Marcus who ran the bike repair shop. The fire crackled warm against the cool night air. Someone brought a Bluetooth speaker playing soft indie folk. Amina and Lena were deep in conversation about design trends, laughing loud. Tyler roasted marshmallows perfectly golden and handed me one. “You good, Z?” he asked quietly. “You seem… distracted since you got back.” I forced a smile. “Just college brain. Lots to think about.” Across the fire, Elias had joined the group after all — “decided the sealant could wait.” He stood talking with Marcus about building materials, but his eyes kept finding me. Every glance felt loaded: I know how you sound when you come. I know how you taste. My skin prickled with awareness. When Amina and Lena wandered down the beach to skip stones, Elias drifted closer under the guise of offering me another marshmallow. “Having fun?” he asked, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Yeah. It’s nice seeing everyone.” His fingers brushed mine as I took the stick. “You looked beautiful in the firelight. Made it hard to concentrate on anything else.” Heat flushed through me. “Careful. People are watching.” “Let them.” A tiny smile. “They see a dad hanging with his daughter’s friends. They don’t see me dying to pull you behind those rocks and remind you who you belong to.” My breath caught. The dirty promise from last night echoed in my head — riding him, him filling me, the way he’d groaned my name like a secret prayer. Before I could respond, Amina called out, “Zara! Come try this! The tide’s leaving perfect flat stones!” I joined her, heart hammering, laughing as we competed for the best skips. The night felt normal — friends, fire, small-town magic. But every laugh with Amina twisted the knife of guilt deeper. She trusted me completely. She’d cried on my shoulder after her mom died. We’d promised each other we’d always be sisters. And here I was, sneaking heated looks with her father while his c*m from the night before might still be inside me. The thought sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cool air. Later, as the group started packing up, Elias offered to walk us home. Amina accepted without question — she was yawning anyway. The three of us strolled the misty streets, streetlights casting soft halos. Amina chattered about festival ideas; Elias added practical suggestions about lighting and permits. I walked between them, hyper-aware of every brush of Elias’s arm against mine. At the house, Amina headed straight upstairs. “Shower and bed. Night, guys!” The door to her room clicked shut. Elias turned to me in the dim hallway light. His hand came up, cupping my cheek gently. “Today was t*****e,” he admitted, voice rough. “Seeing you laugh with everyone, knowing I had to keep my distance. I want more than stolen moments, Zara. I want mornings where I can kiss you over coffee without looking over my shoulder.” I leaned into his touch. “I want that too. But Amina…” “I know.” He rested his forehead against mine. “We’ll figure it out. Slow. Careful. But I’m not letting you go. Not after how you feel in my arms.” He kissed me then — slow, deep, full of promise and barely restrained hunger. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark. “Leave your door unlocked tonight,” he whispered. “I’ll be quiet. But I need to hold you. Even if it’s just for a little while.” I nodded, throat tight. He kissed my forehead and disappeared into his own room. I climbed the stairs on shaky legs, brushed my teeth, changed into soft sleep shorts and a tank. The guest room felt different now — every creak of the floorboards a potential risk, every shadow a reminder of what we were risking. When I slid under the covers, I left the door unlocked. And when, an hour later, it opened silently and Elias slipped inside, locking it behind him, I didn’t hesitate to open my arms. He climbed in beside me, fully clothed, and pulled me against his chest. No s*x tonight — just the solid warmth of him, his hand stroking my back in slow circles, his lips brushing my hair. “Sleep, baby,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.” But as his breathing evened out and mine stayed restless, I stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain. The town was small. Secrets had a way of surfacing here. And with every tender touch, every clingy text, every protective glance, I felt us sliding closer to the edge of something we couldn’t take back.