Mom allowed Claire to stay for the weekend. For me, it's oxygen.
Claire arrives with an overnight bag and enough energy to fill three rooms. She bounds upstairs ahead of me. Already claimed half my bed when I arrive.
"Finally. Actual girl time without your parents hovering."
I try to smile, but something about the way I lower myself onto the mattress makes her stop mid-laugh. Her eyes narrow.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That." She mimics my careful, stiff movement. "You moved like my grandmother after hip surgery."
"I'm just tired."
"Bullshit." She sits up straighter. "You've been weird all week. The cryptic texts, avoiding me. Maya, what's going on?"
The truth sits in my throat like a stone. Too big to swallow. Too sharp to spit out.
"It's nothing."
"Show me."
"Claire—"
"Show me." Her voice softens. "Please."
My hands shake as I stand. This feels more humiliating than the moment I woke up and found it locked on me. Maybe because saying it out loud makes it real.
I lift my shirt slowly. Hook my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and pull them down just enough.
The metal gleams in the lamplight.
Claire's face goes blank for three full seconds.
"What the fuck is that?"
"A chastity belt." My voice sounds detached. "My parents locked it on me the night of my birthday."
"They what?" She's on her feet now, staring. "Maya, that's insane. That's abuse."
"They call it protection."
"It's a fucking cage." Her voice cracks. "Who has the key?"
"My mom unlocks the front shield for showers. But the actual key? They gave it to Grant."
"The guy you called a jerk?"
"Yeah."
"The guy you haven't even properly met?"
"That's the one."
She sinks back onto the bed. Hands pressed to her temples. When she looks up, her expression is equal parts fury and heartbreak.
"Maya. We're getting you out of this."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But we will." She reaches for my hand, squeezes hard. "I promise."
The knot in my chest loosens slightly.
"Can we just watch a movie now? And pretend to be normal for a few hours?"
Claire nods, still holding my hand. "Yeah. We can do that."
We spread blankets on the floor. Queue up some mindless comedy. For the first hour, we do what we've always done best—talking over it.
"Remember when we tried to sneak into that concert junior year?" Claire grabs the popcorn bowl.
"We got caught in like five minutes."
"Because you kept looking guilty. I told you, confidence is everything." She performs a dramatic hair flip. "Fake it till you make it, baby." She sneaks a bottle from her bag.
"Is that vodka?"
"Mixed with lemonade. Trust me, it's good." She pours some into my soda can. "Come on. Live a little."
"My parents are right downstairs—"
"So we'll be quiet. What's the worst that could happen?" She takes a sip. "Actually, don't answer that. Besides, what are they gonna do? Lock you up?"
The joke lands wrong. We both feel it.
"Sorry. Too soon."
For a while, the heaviness dissolves. We're just two friends watching a stupid movie, laughing at inside jokes that span years. But as the night deepens, our laughter fades into something quieter.
"I'm tired of pretending," I say into the darkness.
"Pretending what?"
"To be the girl they want me to be. Pure. Sheltered. Untouched." The words feel dangerous. "I've watched porn, Claire. Not to rebel. Just because I was curious. And sometimes I just wish I could experience something real. Something I chose."
Claire doesn't flinch. "Curiosity doesn't make you bad, Maya. It makes you alive."
"My parents would disagree."
"Your parents are wrong." She shifts closer. "The belt is just another way for them to control what they don't understand. But it doesn't change who you are."
My throat aches. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Yes, you do. You're the girl who tells Grant Ellison he is a jerk. Who hits on Jordan Reyes, the daddy’s friend. Who's still fighting even when everything feels impossible."
Heat floods my face. "How did you—"
"You think I can't read you?" She grins. "So. Jordan, huh?"
The words stick in my throat. "I kissed him."
Claire's eyes go wide. "You what?"
"Last night. After the dinner. I was in the workshop and he was there and we argued and then—" I press my palms to my face. "And then I kissed him."
"Oh my god."
"I know."
"No, I mean—" She grabs my shoulders. "Oh my GOD. Maya. Details. Now."
"There are no details."
"You just said you kissed him. That's literally a detail."
Heat floods my face. "It happened. It was a mistake. End of story."
"That is not the end of the story." Her grin is enormous. "Was it good?"
"Claire!"
"What? I'm asking the important questions here." She bounces slightly. "Your dad's hot friend. The one who's been eye-fucking you since your birthday. You finally made a move, and I want details."
"He wasn't—we weren't—" I can't finish the sentence.
"So it was good."
I don't answer. The silence says everything.
"Holy shit." Claire looks delighted. "Maya Bennett. You kissed a man. A whole adult man. I'm so proud."
"It was a mistake."
"Was it?" Her grin fades into something more serious. "Did you want to kiss him?"
"I don't know. Yes. Maybe. It doesn't matter."
"It absolutely matters."
"He's Dad's friend. He's older. It can't happen again."
"But you want it to."
I don't answer. Claire shifts the topic.
"What about Grant?"
I doubt for a second. Then grab my phone. Show her Grant's text.
Claire reads it twice. Her jaw tightens.
"He texted you."
"After everything. Yeah."
"I think maybe you should meet him again."
"Are you insane?"
"Hear me out." She sits up. "He texted you, right? He apologized. He wants another chance. Use that." Her eyes sharpen. "Meet him. Play nice. Get information. Find out about the key."
The idea feels both humiliating and necessary.
"You want me to manipulate him."
"I want you to be free."
I stare at Grant's message. At the careful apology. The cute emoji.
Maybe meeting him is a strategy to consider.
By the time the credits roll, our popcorn's gone stale. The room smells faintly of sleep and sugar.
I check my phone. Reread Grant's text. The smallest flicker of control returns.
I type out a reply. Ok.
Hit send before I can overthink it.