Phase Three: Day Seven — The Mall

The philosophy of this book is investment. What you wear, what you own, what you present to the world—it is no longer accidental. Every piece you bring into your life from now on should be chosen with intent.

Your tasks for today are:

You will wear a pair of 3+ inch stiletto heels the entire time you are away from home.

You will wear full makeup: foundation, mascara, eye shadow, and red or pink lipstick.

You will wear a push-up or padded bra and a thong whenever you are away from home.

You will play with yourself for fifteen minutes after you wake up and before bed. You may not cum in the morning.

You will begin curating your wardrobe, adding pieces that enhance your transformation. A siren chooses her armor.

Lily’s mornings had become rituals, almost mechanical now: heels first, always. She slipped into her nude stilettos, polished until they shone like glass. The sharp clicks echoed against the dorm hallway tile as she moved back and forth, gathering her bag. She paired the shoes with gray jeans and a cropped cream sweater that hugged her waist—casual, but lifted by the precision of her makeup: mascara lengthening her lashes, a sweep of rose-gold shadow brightening her eyes, and the bold red lipstick she had grown attached to in the mirror.

Kate looked up from where she sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her brunette brows rose high as she took in Lily’s outfit.

“Heels to go shopping?” Kate teased, her voice lilting with curiosity.

Lily smirked, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Practice.”

And with that, she was out the door, the sharp rhythm of her heels trailing behind her like a drumbeat.

At the Mall

The mall was alive with weekend noise: families weaving between shops, kids tugging on parents’ hands, clusters of students drifting past in sweats and sneakers. Music pulsed faintly from the overhead speakers, muffled by the chatter and the echo of footsteps across the polished tile.

Lily’s stilettos struck sharp and distinct against the floor, each click drawing subtle glances. She’d never felt so visible. Every mirrored shop window gave her a reflection she couldn’t help but track: the sway of her hips, the way the lipstick made her smile brighter, sharper.

She stopped in front of a boutique whose windows were filled with mannequins dressed in sequined tops, glittering heels, and slitted skirts. This is where I need to be, she thought, heart beating faster as she pushed open the glass door.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of perfume, sweet and heady. She moved past racks of neutral sweaters and jeans, ignoring them in favor of bolder fabrics—silk, velvet, sequins that caught the light. Her hand stilled on a red faux-leather dress, sleeveless and unapologetically tight, the hem promising to ride high on her thighs. She carried it to the fitting room, pulse thudding in her ears.

Sliding into the dress, she gasped softly. The fabric hugged every curve: her chest fuller, pushed up higher by her bra; her waist drawn tighter; her thighs smooth beneath the sheen of red. She turned left, then right, tugged once at the hem—but instead of feeling exposed, she felt magnetic. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was confident, dangerous, someone men would orbit without hesitation.

The red faux-leather dress hugged every curve like it had been sewn for her body alone. When Lily stepped out of the changing room, heels snapping against the polished floor, she knew the dress didn’t just fit — it commanded.

The two guys near the entrance were still there. She caught their eyes instantly, the way their conversation faltered again, the way one of them — the blond with the baseball cap turned backward — whispered something to the other. His friend, taller and broader, smirked openly now, gaze sliding from the hem of her dress up to the daring line of her neckline.

Lily’s lips curved faintly as she turned away, pretending to browse. She trailed her fingers down a rack of sequined skirts, then paused to pull a glittering gold one free, holding it against her hip. She didn’t need to check the mirror — she knew they were still watching.

She let herself move slowly through the boutique, her reflection catching in every surface — the walls, the angled mirrors, even the glass display cases. The dress shifted against her thighs with every step, creaking faintly when she bent at the waist to pull a hanger from the bottom rack. She felt their eyes burn hotter when she straightened, tugging the hem back down with deliberate slowness.

They can’t look away.

The thought made her thighs press together, heat blooming between them. She wandered toward the accessories wall, picking up a rhinestone choker, then a cropped leather jacket, holding them up in turn as though weighing her options. But she wasn’t thinking about the clothes anymore.

She was thinking about them.

How easy it would be to glance over her shoulder, crook her finger, and lead them back through the curtain. The way they’d follow without hesitation, laughing under their breath, eyes hungry. She imagined pulling one inside, then the other, the small dressing room going hot and cramped in seconds as hands slid over her hips, over her chest, pushing the dress tighter, higher.

One kissing her throat while the other tugged at the zipper. Her reflection watching them in the mirror as she arched against them, lipstick smudging, heels slipping against the tile. She pictured herself laughing — not nervous laughter, but sharp and knowing — daring them both to keep going.

Her pulse hammered as she hung the jacket back on the rack. She didn’t dare look directly at the guys again, but she could feel their stares follow her when she made her way to the counter, the dress shining under the overhead lights. Even the cashier’s hands faltered for a second as she rang up the items, eyes flicking over Lily before quickly darting away.

By the time Lily stepped back into the late afternoon air, shopping bags dangling from her hands, her chest was tight with adrenaline. The ache was unbearable now, sharp and insistent with every step of her heels against the pavement.

The dress was folded neatly into its glossy bag, tucked safely on the passenger seat. Lily sat behind the wheel in her mundane outfit again — gray jeans snug at the hips, cream sweater soft against her skin, nude heels resting on the floor mat. She looked ordinary in the rearview mirror. But her body didn’t feel ordinary.

Her thighs pressed together almost involuntarily, heart still racing as though she were back under the boutique’s fluorescent lights. She could see them so clearly — the smirk, the whispered comment, the way their eyes had clung to her as if she were magnetic.

Her hand drifted down, brushing her jeans, pressing firmly enough to make her breath catch. A low sound slipped from her throat, half frustration, half longing. She shifted in her seat, rocking subtly against her palm, her mind spinning with the images she’d conjured: dragging both boys into the dressing room, the cramped heat, their hands sliding the red dress up, up, until nothing was left hidden.

She bit her lip hard, hips lifting slightly off the seat. The ache sharpened, pulling her to the edge — and that’s when the words cut through, crisp and cold:

You may not cum in the morning. Stay aching. Stay wanting.

Her hand stilled. She let out a shaky exhale, head dropping forward onto the wheel. The denial burned worse than the arousal, but she forced herself still, clenching her jaw.

When she finally lifted her head, her reflection stared back at her from the rearview. Jeans, sweater, flushed cheeks. No trace of the red dress.

But she knew the truth. The memory of their stares was still etched into her skin. The ache between her thighs was proof.

And she carried it with her as she started the engine — a secret reminder of the woman she was becoming.

Back at the Dorm

The sun was dipping low by the time Lily pushed open the dorm room door, bags dangling from her arms. She set them down carefully by her desk, the glossy shopping bags catching the dim orange light filtering through the blinds. Her heart was still racing, her thighs still aching with denial, but she tried to steady her breathing.

Kate looked up immediately from where she was sprawled on her bed, phone in hand. Her damp hair clung to her neck from a shower, her freckled face fresh and bare. “Well, someone went on a spree.”

Lily bent to pull out the first prize: the red faux-leather dress. She hung it by the hanger, letting it gleam against the closet door.

Kate sat up straighter, eyes widening. “Oh my God. That’s not just shopping. That’s…” She trailed off, grinning. “That’s dangerous.”

Lily smoothed a hand down the shiny fabric, pretending calm. “Too much?”

“Too much for who?” Kate laughed, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She padded closer, eyes fixed on the dress like it might bite. “That thing looks like it comes with a warning label. And honestly? You could pull it off.”

Lily felt her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it off with a shrug. “I tried it on. It fit.”

Kate’s gaze snapped to her. “Wait. You wore that out there? In the store?”

Lily hesitated, then nodded. The memory of the two guys’ stares flashed hot in her mind, almost too vivid to bear.

Kate gave a low whistle. “Damn. No wonder you’re glowing.”

Lily blinked. “Glowing?”

Kate smirked, folding her arms. “Yeah. You look… I don’t know. Like you just got back from an amazing date or something. Your cheeks are all flushed, and you’re smiling like you’ve got a secret.”

Lily laughed nervously, brushing at her hair. “Maybe I do.”

Kate grinned wider, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, keep it. Whatever you’re doing? It’s working. Seriously. You’re like… a whole new Lily this week.” She gave a playful nudge before retreating back to her bed.

Lily sat at her desk, pretending to sort through the rest of her purchases, but her mind was still tangled in the boutique — the dress, the stares, the car. Her thighs pressed together again, the ache pulsing hot as Kate hummed softly to herself on the other side of the room.

Her roommate might think she was glowing from shopping, but Lily knew the truth.

She was glowing because she had carried the fantasy home with her, alive and burning under her skin.

The dorm was quiet when Kate left for a friend’s place, the door clicking shut behind her. Silence settled in like permission.

Lily stood in front of the mirror, a daring thought forming before she could talk herself out of it. She tugged on a tight black leather crop top — one she rarely wore outside of parties — and slipped back into the same gray jeans from earlier. They’d have to be washed anyway, and tonight they weren’t just clothes. They were props.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the window, letting the memories of the boutique flood her senses. The dress. The heat of the overhead lights. The way those two guys had stared like they couldn’t help themselves.

She closed her eyes and built the scene again, piece by piece. Their voices low, teasing. Their footsteps following her into the changing room. She imagined their hands sliding up her thighs, rough with need, their words tumbling over each other as they urged her lower. She pictured herself kneeling between them, playing them off each other, stroking one while sucking the other, swapping back and forth, drool spilling hot down her chin. In her fantasy, she laughed around their cocks, messy and shameless, knowing they couldn’t resist her.

Her hand worked faster between her thighs, the damp denim clinging tight, her hips grinding up into her palm. Heat shot through her, sharp and unstoppable. She came with a strangled cry, then again, and again, each release crashing harder as the fantasies grew filthier. Time blurred. The only rhythm was her own gasps, the wet slide of her fingers, the relentless images of control and submission tangled together.

By the time she finally sagged back against the pillows, her crop top had ridden high enough to bare her breasts, her jeans kicked off but wet as a rag, nipples flushed and stiff. Her hands were slick, the sheets beneath her damp and twisted. Her hair stuck to her temples, wild and damp from sweat.

Lily lay there in the dark, chest rising and falling, every nerve buzzing with aftershocks. But what made her smile wasn’t just the pleasure.

It was the power.

She had spent the day turning heads, commanding stares, making men pause mid-sentence. And here she was, writhing in the aftermath of fantasies where she was the one in charge — teasing, choosing, controlling.

Her lips curved as her eyes drifted shut. She wanted more.

So much more.

Day 8 – The Gym

Lily slipped into her new black heels before leaving the dorm. The rule was automatic now: heels whenever she stepped outside, no exceptions until she reached the gym. Her black spandex shorts and gray racerback sports bra were already snug against her body, daring in a way that still made her pulse quicken. She tied her hair back in a high ponytail, reapplied her lipstick, and grabbed her tote bag.

Her heels clicked softly across the dorm hallway and then onto the sidewalks of campus. A few people glanced her way—some surprised, some curious—but no one said anything. Lily walked on, head lifted, steady in her stride, carrying herself like she belonged exactly as she was.

At the gym entrance, she slipped into the locker room and changed from her heels into sneakers. One last look in the mirror: toned legs, bare stomach, flushed cheeks. She straightened her ponytail, shouldered her bag, and stepped out onto the main floor.

The gym buzzed with energy—treadmills pounding, weights clanking, music pulsing overhead. Lily went straight to the squat racks, chalking her hands lightly before gripping the bar. Her first set burned, but she pushed through, the old rhythm of practice sliding back into her body.

When she glanced two stations over, she froze for a moment.

It was him.

The same guy from yesterday. Messy brown hair damp with sweat, shoulders broad under his gray T-shirt, familiar duffel bag resting at his feet. His soft blue eyes flicked up, caught hers, and that grin spread across his face again—quick, easy, but full of recognition.

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t falter. She pushed through her last reps and racked the bar cleanly. When she glanced over again, he gave a small nod—just like before, but this time with a spark of amusement.

After finishing her lifts, Lily moved toward the treadmills, pressing start as the belt slid into motion. Her pace was steady, ponytail bouncing with each stride. A minute later, he joined her—stepping onto the treadmill right beside hers. He adjusted his settings with practiced ease, his stride smooth, long, and strong.

She smirked and upped her speed.

The challenge was unspoken, but immediate. He matched her increase, glancing sideways with that same grin tugging higher.

“Trying to race me?” he asked, his voice teasing but tinged with effort.

“Maybe,” Lily replied, eyes on her screen as her legs carried her faster. “Scared you’ll lose?”

His laugh cut short as he kept pace, sweat glistening across his brow. “Not a chance.”

Half an hour passed and their sneakers continued to pound in rhythm, breath coming faster, but Lily refused to back down. She leaned into the burn, determination fueling her stride. When she risked another glance, she realized he wasn’t as smooth as before—his grin had faltered, his breathing heavier. She was pulling ahead.

At last, he tapped his stop button, belt slowing beneath his feet. His chest rose and fell with sharp breaths, towel swiping across his face. But his grin returned, wider this time, edged with respect.

“You don’t mess around,” he said, voice rough with breath.

Lily slowed her treadmill gradually before stepping off, her own chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. She slung her towel around her neck, lips curving. “Guess not.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Hell of a pace you had there, guess I kind of embarrassed myself too.

She arched a brow, wiping her arms. “Maybe you underestimated me, but don’t feel too bad, you have more to carry than me”. Gliding a hand against his arms to trace his muscles but also to bring home her point. His skin was still damp and slick from sweat, but the heat it gave off, and the firmness of his muscles…Lily found herself biting her lower lip before Mark spoke up again.

“Maybe I did.” He hesitated, then stuck out his hand, still warm from the run. “Mark.”

She clasped it firmly, sapphire eyes catching his. “Lily.”

His grip lingered for a second longer than necessary before he let go. “I’ll remember it.”

She laughed softly, tugging her towel higher. “You’d better.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, grin tugging wider, cheeks faintly flushed. “I can’t forget someone like you”

When she left the floor, sneakers squeaking against the tile, she felt more than noticed. She felt strong. She had beaten him on his own turf, and now he had her name.

The locker room was nearly empty when Lily stepped inside, the hum of the air vents filling the silence. She dropped her tote bag on the bench and sat heavily, her body still trembling from the run. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, her ponytail damp at the base of her neck, and she could still feel the vibration of the treadmill in her legs.

But it wasn’t the workout alone that had her shivering.

It was him.

Mark’s grin. The rasp of his voice. The weight of his hand when he’d said his name. Mark. She mouthed it silently, savoring the shape of it on her lips.

Her legs pressed together, thighs aching in a way that had nothing to do with squats. She leaned back against the cool metal of the lockers, eyes fluttering shut. Her hand drifted, almost without permission, to the waistband of her shorts. She hesitated, then slipped her fingers beneath, brushing against herself.

The jolt was immediate. Her breath caught, lips parting. She could still see him in her mind, chest heaving, eyes on her. His voice echoed, teasing but warm: “You don’t mess around.”

Her hips lifted slightly into her touch, back arching as she let the images spool out further — Mark leaning closer, his sweat mixing with hers, his breath hot against her cheek. She imagined those blue eyes fixed on her, steady and unrelenting, as though she were the only thing in the room.

A small sound escaped her throat before she bit down on it, cheeks heating. The locker room was empty, but it felt dangerous anyway, thrilling in a way that made her shiver harder.

Her fingers moved faster, pressure building, her thighs trembling. Her body screamed for release, so close she could almost taste it. Yes—

But the words of the book cut through, sharp as a blade: You may not cum in the morning. Stay aching. Stay wanting.

Her hand froze, every nerve sparking in protest. “God…” she groaned under her breath, forehead dropping to her arm. Her body twisted in frustration, so close and denied. She held still for several long seconds, forcing herself to breathe, forcing the sharp ache to flatten back into a dull throb.

Slowly, she pulled her hand free, staring at her fingers glistening in the fluorescent light. For a moment, she hesitated. Then curiosity got the better of her.

She brought them to her lips, tongue flicking tentatively at first. The taste was sharp, salty, almost electric on her tongue. Her eyelids fluttered, and she licked again, slower, deliberate this time. Heat surged through her chest, her pulse racing as she realized — she liked it. She loved it. The intimacy of it, the secretiveness, like she was claiming her own desire in the most private way possible.

A smirk curved across her lips as she drew her fingers into her mouth fully, sucking them clean.

When she lowered her hand, her sapphire eyes glimmered in the mirror. She didn’t look embarrassed. She looked hungry.

When she reached the entrance she slipped her heels back, the sharp click of her stilettos felt louder than usual, echoing off the tile. She carried that ache, that tension, with her as she stepped back into the world. A promise waiting to break.

Darkness wrapped the dorm room in quiet, broken only by Kate’s soft, steady breathing from across the space. The glow of the alarm clock painted faint red digits onto the ceiling, and Lily lay on her back, staring into the shadows with her pulse already racing. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The treadmill. The way his grin had faltered when he realized she was beating him. The flush on his cheeks. The grip of his hand when they shook, warm and confident, his voice steady even though his body was spent. Mark.

Her thighs pressed together under the sheets, trembling already. It was unbearable, this ache. She turned onto her side, then her back again, restless, until she couldn’t hold still. Slowly, carefully, she slipped her hand under the blanket, fingers trailing across her stomach before sliding lower.

The moment she touched herself, it was like a dam breaking. Heat rushed through her veins, her hips lifting to meet her hand. She bit her lip hard, breath catching, trying not to make a sound — but her body betrayed her, a soft whimper muffled against the pillow.

And then it struck her: Kate.

Her roommate’s bed was just a few feet away. Kate’s soft breathing rose and fell, steady, oblivious. Lily’s pulse spiked at the thought. She was touching herself, writhing under the covers, while someone else slept so close. An audience, even if unknowing. Something about it felt wicked, daring — like she was breaking more than just the book’s rules.

Her fingers circled faster, harder, as the fantasy twisted: Mark’s weight pressing down on her, his hands holding her hips, his breath rough against her ear. She imagined Kate stirring, opening her eyes, seeing her pinned beneath him, knowing what he was doing to her. The thought made her hips buck, a shiver tearing through her as the first climax hit, hard and fast.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

Her body was still thrumming, greedy. Before her breathing even steadied, her hand moved again, chasing more. She spread her thighs wider, the sheet slipping low enough to expose bare skin to the cool air. The contrast only made her hotter. Her body tensed, toes curling, another orgasm ripping through her — sharper this time, her muffled cry nearly loud enough to break the room’s silence.

Half an hour blurred in a haze of sweat, trembling muscles, and forbidden fantasies. Every time Lily’s body slowed, she thought of Kate’s steady breathing across the room — proof of an audience who didn’t even know — and it spurred her higher again.

She built Mark in her mind with agonizing clarity: his soft blue eyes pinning her down, the heat of his chest pressed against hers, his weight grounding her in place. She imagined his hand gripping her thigh, dragging it higher around his waist, while his other hand pinned her wrist above her head. Then the fantasy sharpened — not just his fingers working her, but his cock filling her, stretching her, driving into her with a rhythm that stole her breath. Each thrust was rougher than the last, his hips slamming against hers as his voice growled at her ear, “You don’t mess around.”

Her fingers tried to mimic the sensation, but in her mind Mark was relentless — kissing her hard, biting at her lower lip, then burying his face in her neck as he pounded her into the mattress. She could almost feel the damp weight of his hair brushing her cheek, the delicious ache as his cock hit deeper, the helpless cry spilling from her lips with every thrust.

And threaded through it all was Kate — asleep, so close, maybe stirring at the sound of Lily’s muffled moans. Maybe catching the faint slap of imagined skin-on-skin, hearing Lily gasp his name into the dark. The possibility made Lily’s hips buck harder into her hand, the fantasy of Mark’s body grinding her into the sheets pushing her higher still.

Each thought pushed her into another climax. Again and again. She lost count somewhere after four, her body wrung out but still greedy, refusing to rest.

By the time she slowed, her sheets were tangled around her legs, damp against her skin, her chest heaving as though she’d run another race. Her hand slipped free, trembling, glistening. Curiosity sparked — bold now, emboldened by everything she’d done — and she brought her fingers to her lips. She licked, slow, savoring the taste, humming softly to herself as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Mark…” she whispered, breathless, reverent, as though giving the name to the dark itself.

She lay there long after, chest rising and falling, sapphire eyes heavy-lidded but glowing. She had broken herself open for him, for the thought of him, and done it all with Kate right there, her oblivious audience.

The thought made her smile faintly as sleep finally tugged her under.

Day 9 – A Slower Day

Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, throwing thin golden bars across the dorm room. Lily stretched languidly under her tangled sheets, her body still humming faintly from the night before. Her skin carried the afterglow, a warmth that seemed to radiate outward, subtle but unmistakable.

Kate sat cross-legged on her own bed, scrolling lazily on her phone, damp hair bundled into a messy bun. She looked up when Lily finally rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Kate teased, tossing her phone onto the blanket. Her eyes lingered on Lily a moment longer than usual, narrowing slightly. “You look… different.”

Lily reached for the water bottle on her nightstand, sipping slowly before answering. “Different how?”

Kate tilted her head, considering. “Relaxed. Glowy. Like you just got back from a spa or something. Except you didn’t. Unless you snuck out last night when I wasn’t looking.”

Lily almost choked on her water. “I didn’t.”

Kate grinned, clearly amused by the fluster. “Then what gives? Seriously, Lil — it’s only been, what, a week and a half, and you’ve gone from baggy hoodies and sneakers to… well, this.” She gestured broadly at Lily — the polished nails, the faint traces of makeup still clinging from yesterday, the nude heels neatly set by the bed. “It’s like you’ve leveled up overnight.”

Lily smoothed her hair self-consciously, then dropped her hand, realizing she didn’t feel ashamed of Kate noticing anymore. “Maybe I just… needed a change.”

Kate snorted, leaning forward onto her elbows. “A change? Girl, this is more than a change. You walk different. You carry yourself different. I swear, every time we go across campus now, people stare. And you like it. Don’t deny it.”

Lily’s lips parted to argue, but she closed them again, heat prickling at her cheeks. “…I like being seen.”

“Exactly.” Kate sat back with a triumphant smirk. “See? You admit it. Before, you were practically invisible — hiding behind textbooks and problem sets. Now you strut around in heels like you’re starring in your own movie.”

Lily laughed softly, shaking her head, but the words lodged deep. Strutting. Starring. It wasn’t wrong. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is, though.” Kate’s tone softened, her teasing fading into something closer to awe. “You’re not just dressing different. You’re… glowing. Confident. Even your smile is different. It’s like you’re finally letting yourself be the main character instead of the background.”

The words hit Lily in her chest, sharper than expected. She thought of the book, the rules, the way she’d obeyed every one. She thought of Mark, the way his eyes had burned into hers at the gym. She thought of the ache in her body, the way she’d whispered his name into her pillow, Kate asleep only feet away.

She turned toward her roommate fully, sapphire eyes bright in the morning light. “Maybe that’s what I want,” she admitted. “To be seen. To be remembered.”

Kate’s grin spread, wide and genuine. “Then keep going. Because whatever you’re doing? It’s working. And for the record…” She picked up her phone again, smirking as she scrolled. “…you look hot. Just saying.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward despite herself. She slipped her heels on before heading to the bathroom, the sharp click against the tile echoing like punctuation.

Every step reminded her of Kate’s words, of the secret half-hour she’d spent writhing in the dark, of Mark’s name still echoing in her head.

She wasn’t just changing. She was becoming.

Later That Afternoon – The Café

Lily stared at her reflection in the dorm mirror before heading out. Today, she’d chosen something she’d never dared wear outside before: black latex leggings, gleaming under the light, hugging her legs like a second skin. She paired them with a cropped gray sweater that skimmed her waist and glossy black pumps from her shopping trip. Her lips were painted a deep red, bold against her pale complexion, and she slipped on small silver hoops for balance.

She hesitated only once at the door, then squared her shoulders and left.

Her heels clicked steadily across campus. The leggings squeaked faintly with each stride, the sound reminding her with every step that people would notice. And they did — glances flicked her way, longer than usual, some curious, some openly appreciative. Instead of shrinking, Lily let her chin rise higher, savoring the heat of being watched.

By the time she stepped into the student center, her nerves had transformed into something else entirely: anticipation.

Jordan was behind the counter, apron snug across his broad chest, his dreadlocks tied high today. His deep brown eyes found her almost instantly, and the corners of his mouth curved up before he even said a word.

“Well, well,” he said as she approached. “Hot latte?”

“You remembered,” Lily replied, leaning lightly on the counter. Her bracelets jingled with the motion, a deliberate choice.

He began working the machine, his movements smooth, efficient, but his gaze kept flicking back to her — once at her lips, once at the sheen of her leggings. When their eyes met again, he didn’t look away.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said casually, voice low but clear over the hiss of steaming milk.

Lily tilted her head, feigning innocence. “How so?”

Jordan’s grin widened. “Last week you were jeans and sneakers. Now…” His eyes dropped briefly, just long enough to make her pulse quicken, before lifting back to hers. “…latex and heels. That’s not just different. That’s a statement.”

Heat bloomed in her chest, though she didn’t let it show on her face. “You like it?”

“Like it?” He chuckled, sliding her cup across the counter. “I love it and I’d say you own it.”

His words replayed in her head as she walked away, latte in hand, her heels clicking on the polished floor. She chose a table by the window, sipping slowly, watching her reflection ghosted in the glass.

Own it.

That was exactly what she was doing.