Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 63

REINA

Tessa had only been in my apartment for only twenty minutes and already turned it into a chaotic masterpiece—clothes on the couch, heels by the lamp, lipstick tubes rolling across the rug like confetti.

And somehow, I didn’t mind.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, face lit up by the glow of my ring light, smearing shimmer across her eyelids like she was performing open-heart surgery.

"God, this lighting is criminal," she muttered. "How do you even see yourself in here?"

"I use the mirror like a normal person," I said, leaning back on my hands.

Tessa snorted. "Normal is boring. You should know that by now."

I laughed, watching her twist a curl behind her ear. The smell of her perfume mixed with my vanilla candle, a scent that dragged me straight back to our teenage bedrooms—music blasting, secrets spilling, mascara smudged from too much laughter.

"Remember our first makeover night?" she asked, voice teasing.

"How could I forget?" I said. "You nearly blinded yourself with glitter."

She gasped dramatically. "That glitter was revolutionary."

"It was a health hazard."

She laughed so hard her eyeliner wand trembled. "Okay, maybe it was both."

It was easy, this rhythm of ours—banter and laughter filling the empty corners of my new place, turning it from strange to familiar.

We didn’t need to say it, but I felt it: this was home. Not the walls, not the furniture. Her.

For a second, I let myself look at her properly, the soft gold of her skin, the tiny crease between her brows when she focused. She caught me staring.

"What?" she said, smirking. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Just talent," I said.

She grinned. "Damn right."

We fell into a comfortable silence. The music playing from her phone filled the background, something nostalgic and too loud.

She reached for my makeup bag. "I can’t believe we’re still doing this after all these years."

"You say that like we’re eighty." I smirked, putting my bangles on.

"Reina, our knees already hurt when we dance. The betrayal has started."

I chuckled, my shoulders trembling so hard. "Speak for yourself. My knees are fine."

"Uh-huh," Tess said with a smug smile plastered on her face. "Denial is the first stage of aging."

I threw a scrunchie at her. It bounced off her shoulder, and she feigned a dramatic gasp. "Violence? In my best friend’s apartment?"

"Only when deserved."

Her laughter softened, fading into something quiet. "I missed this," she said finally. "You. Us. Before everything got... complicated."

The word hung there—complicated—and I felt my throat tighten.

She didn’t mean anything by it. Probably.

"Yeah," I said, picking at the hem of my skirt. "Me too."

She smiled faintly, then broke the silence with a clap of her hands. "Okay! Enough emotions. Time to make you hot."

"I’m already hot."

"Not with that eyeliner."

She lunged at me, brush in hand, and I squirmed away, laughing so hard I nearly smudged my mascara. She caught my chin gently, steadying me. Our faces were close—too close—and for a heartbeat, neither of us said a word.

Her eyes searched mine, slow, careful. Then she smiled. "Still annoying."

I exhaled, the moment dissolving like sugar in tea. "You’re impossible."

"And fabulous." She gave my cheek one last pat before pulling back. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

By the time we finished, my apartment looked like a war zone and we looked like we’d won it. Tessa spun in front of the mirror in a silver dress that caught every light in the room.

I zipped up my black satin dress and adjusted the straps.

Her voice softened. "You look insane."

I turned, startled. "In a good way, I hope."

"In the best."

The silence that followed was different this time, heavier, warmer.

She was the first to look away. "Come on. Before I start crying or something equally embarrassing."

I grabbed my purse and shoved my phone and my car keys inside. Adjusting the gown that was barely covering my ass one more time before walking out of my apartment with Tessa walking beside me like a proud sister, her shoulder gently brushing against mine.

Outside, the night wrapped around us like static, streetlights humming, the city alive in its own heartbeat.

I unlocked my car—Domenico’s gift, though I tried not to think about that—and Tessa slid into the passenger seat, immediately claiming the playlist.

"Rule one of girls’ night," she declared. "Silence is forbidden."

I laughed, pressing the start button. "So is your singing."

"Rude," she said, already queuing a song.

The speakers exploded with bright, sugary pop. We sang like we were sixteen again—loud, off-key, free. The wind rushed in through the half-open windows, carrying the scent of the city and something electric I couldn’t name.

Streetlights flashed past in gentle streaks, the kind that made everything look softer, like the world was pretending to be kind for one night.

Tessa drummed her fingers on the dashboard, her rings catching the light.

"Tell me we’re not old," she said suddenly.

I snorted. "We’re twenty-three, Tess. That’s practically ancient."

"Please," she said, flipping her hair. "If I ever start talking about mortgage rates or reusable grocery bags, shoot me."

"Noted," I said, grinning. "Death by adulting."

We laughed, loud enough to drown out the song playing in the stereo, and for a second it felt like nothing could touch us.

The traffic thinned as we left downtown. Neon signs gave way to dimmer streets lined with trees, their shadows rippling across the hood. I loosened my grip on the steering wheel, humming softly to the next song as Tessa scrolled for another track.

"Wait, wait, this one," she said, hitting play. "Remember? The one we danced to at graduation?"

I groaned. "Oh God, no. We nearly broke the gym floor with that one."

"And we’d do it again," she said proudly. Then she kicked her shoes off, tucking her feet beneath her, completely at home in my passenger seat.

She threw her hands up again. "Best night ever!"

"Best—except for Paolo," I muttered before I could stop myself. Why I said his name was something I didn’t understand.

Her voice dropped. "Bad husband doesn’t get a name tonight. Only us."

Something about the way she said it—quiet but fierce—made me smile.

For a few beats, silence filled the car, the kind that wasn’t awkward but heavy with comfort. The road stretched ahead, dark and endless, and I felt that rare, dizzy kind of peace that only comes when you think you’ve outrun everything that hurt.

Then her tone shifted. "Uh, Reina?"

"What?"

She pointed behind us. "That car’s been tailing us."

My hands stilled on the wheel. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Black sedan. No headlights flashing. Just steady, patient distance.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure," she said. Her joking tone was gone now, replaced with something sharp. "It’s been there since we left your place."

I checked again. The sedan turned when I did. My pulse jumped.

"Maybe it’s nothing," I said, even though my voice betrayed me.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Maybe."

The music felt wrong now, too happy for the air tightening between us.

"Should I?" I started.

"Just keep driving," she said, her hand brushing my arm. "We’ll figure it out. Don’t panic yet."

Her fingers lingered a second too long before pulling back. The brief contact grounded me, even as my mind raced.

We drove on in silence, the city stretching out ahead like an open mouth, and the black sedan shadowing us like a heartbeat that refused to fade.