A Little Birdie Told Me

Alex is shoving socks into a suitcase when Kylie shows up at his bedroom door. Word got around about the breakup and she came to see how he’s holding up. She always liked him even if her best friend did the dumping. Alex appreciates the visit, but honestly, what’s left here except hotel bills and leftover takeout? He’s ready for France, old friends, real bread, the whole reset. Then Kylie steps in a little closer. She’s been waiting on the sidelines long enough, she says, and now she wants a taste before he disappears for good. His brows lift. “You’re serious?” She nods like she’s dared herself to do this the moment she heard he was leaving. The clock’s running out anyway, and what’s one last fling between almost-strangers? He forgets the open suitcase the second her mouth hits his. Clothes come off in quick tugs and sighs. Kylie climbs on top, rocks slow, takes him deep, like she wants every inch to remember her when he lands overseas. Alex grips her hips and gives it right back, hard but tender at the same time—sweet kisses on her collarbone while their bodies slap and grind. They trade lazy smiles whenever a thrust lands just right, as if this stolen afternoon has already become their private joke.