I parked like I always did, way out in the corner of the mall lot, under that one sad-looking palo verde tree that gave zero shade. I don’t even know why I aimed for it. Habit, I guess. The asphalt was cracked out here, little weeds poking through like they were trying to escape. The sun was already doing its thing, baking the car roof and making heat shimmer off the windshield.

Madeline slid out of the passenger seat slowly, like the air was too heavy to move through. Hoodie, shorts, and those flat little sandals she always wore until they practically fell apart. The sleeves swallowed her hands, even though it was, like, 90 degrees out. I could see the outline of her thighs under the hem of her shorts when she moved, but she didn’t seem to care. Or maybe she didn’t even notice.

She used to dress like she wanted people to look. Now it was like she didn’t want to be seen at all.

I slammed my door a little louder than I meant to, the sound echoing through the mostly empty upper deck. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm chirped. I squinted toward the mall entrance: rows of glass doors, glowing automatic lights, and a bunch of teens loitering in front of the Jamba Juice like it was some sacred hangout spot.

Madeline didn’t say anything. Just started walking toward the stairs, hoodie bouncing a little around her hips, head down like she was trying to disappear into the pavement.

“Come on,” I said, locking the car. “Let’s go pretend we have money.”

She smiled, but only halfway. The kind of smile that made me want to shake her. Not in a mean way. Just enough to make the lights come back on behind her eyes.

We hadn’t done this in ages. Mall trips used to be our thing: sneaking soft pretzels into dressing rooms, judging guys from the food court balcony, trying on stuff we’d never buy. Dumb girl rituals. Comfort food for the soul.

But something had happened to her. She wouldn’t say what. Not really. Just little evasions and "I'm just tireds" and whatever-the-hell kind of lie that sounds close enough to the truth when you don’t want to dig.

And sure, I get it, people change. We grow. We evolve. Blah blah. But I know Mads. I grew up with her. And this wasn’t just evolution. This was… molting. Like she’d shed her skin and wasn’t telling me what was underneath.

So yeah. I dragged her here. Lured her out with promises of iced lattes and Sephora samples. Hoping maybe the smell of pretzels and cheap perfume would wake something up in her. Hoping maybe I’d get my Mads back for a couple of hours.

The second we walked into the mall, it hit us: AC blast, perfume clouds from Sephora, music thumping from, like, five different stores at once. It smelled like sugar and designer cologne and capitalism. Honestly? Kinda comforting.

We did the loop: Zara, Brandy, H&M. I was grabbing stuff off hangers like I worked there. She was mostly trailing me, blinking at mannequins like they were giving her attitude.

I held up a halter mini. “You could pull this off.”

She shrugged.

God, even her shrugs had gotten quieter.

“Come on, Mad. Just try something that isn’t five sizes too big.”

Eventually, she grabbed a dress from a rack without saying anything. Gray. Long sleeves, soft knit, kind of clingy. Sweater dress, but the kind that hugged everything in the best way if you had the confidence for it.

We headed to the fitting rooms, and I flopped down on the little bench outside hers, scrolling on my phone and half-listening to the click of hangers from behind the curtain. Across from me, three high school boys hovered by the full-length mirror wall. You know the type: basketball shorts, bad posture, that too loud energy boys get when they’re in a pack.

I was about to glare them into extinction when the curtain shifted.

Madeline stepped out.

And holy shit.

The dress clung to her like it had a crush. Tight in all the right places: waist, hips, ass. Her nipples were poking straight through the fabric. Just standing there, like, hi, nice to meet you. No bra, no shame.

She looked hot as hell.

And the boys noticed. Immediately. Like magnet eyes. One of them made this soft, choked sound. The other elbowed him and muttered something, grinning. They didn’t even pretend to look away.

“Mads,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “you might wanna wear a bra with that.”

She blinked at me like she’d just come out of a trance. Looked down. Froze.

Then panic hit.

She turned on her heel so fast that the hem of the dress flipped up. Bolted into the changing room and yanked the curtain shut like she was sealing a crime scene.

The three boys were still staring.

One of them whispered, “What the fuck,” like he’d just seen God.

I stood up and glared at them. “Seriously?”

They scrambled. Two of them backed off toward the shoe section, mumbling, suddenly very interested in a rack of loafers.

I sat back down, my heart thudding louder than it should’ve been. Because yeah, I was pissed at them. But I was also confused. Madeline wasn’t the type to accidentally flash anyone. Not the old her. And definitely not whatever version she’d been lately.

But in that dress?

She hadn’t looked like someone afraid to be seen.

She looked like someone who wanted it.

Until she didn’t.

___ 🐺 ___

She was taking too long.

Like, way too long.

I checked my phone. Scrolled a little. Glanced back at the curtain. Nothing. No sound. No zipper, no hanger shuffle, no “ugh, this makes my butt look weird” commentary. Just… silence.

Which wasn’t like her.

Madeline might’ve been quiet lately, but she was never still, not like this.

I leaned forward on the bench. “Mads?”

Nothing.

I waited another minute. Then stood. My hand hovered near the curtain, debating. I knew she’d probably kill me for it, but screw it. Something felt off.

I pulled it back just enough to peek…

And my stomach did a full-on somersault.

“Oh my god, Mads…”

She was standing there. Totally naked. No bra, no panties. Nothing.

Just her.

Skin bare and flushed, hoodie and dress crumpled in a heap at her feet. Arms limp at her sides. Hair messy across one cheek like she didn’t even realize she had a face anymore. Her nipples were stiff, skin a little damp like she’d broken a sweat… or maybe she was just… turned on?

My mouth opened. “Shit, Mads,” I whispered, too loudly. “What the hell are you—?”

Then I heard it.

Voices.

From behind me, somewhere near the mirror wall. A cough. A laugh. Someone cheered—one of the boys.

My stomach dropped.

I turned fast, yanking the curtain shut so hard the rings clattered on the rod. A high-pitched “damn!” came from the boys’ section.

“Fucking seriously?” I snapped, loud enough to turn a few heads. I glared toward the noise, pure fire in my eyes, daring them to say one more word.

They shut up real quick.

I turned back to the curtain, muttering, “Goddamn it, Madeline,” under my breath.

Not because I was mad at her. Not really. But because I didn’t get what was happening. This wasn’t just a fashion disaster. This wasn’t her being awkward or zoning out.

This was… something else.

And it scared me.

Just a little.

___ 🐺 ___

We sat on the edge of the fountain just outside the food court, trying to act like everything was normal.

Madeline had this green smoothie thing in her hand: one of those trendy, suspiciously thick ones that looked like it had been scraped off a hiking boot. She sipped it like it was holy water. I had gone full neon: bright pink, tropical, probably more sugar than fruit. But whatever. It was cold, and it was cute.

The fountain misted the air in that soft, cooling way, and I let it hit my face like a reset button. I needed it. After what just went down in Zara, my brain was still short-circuiting.

Madeline. Naked. In a changing room. I still couldn’t process it.

She looked calm now, sipping her smoothie, legs crossed like she hadn’t just flashed two college guys and half a row of sundresses. Like nothing happened.

But it did. It totally did.

And I had questions.

I waited until we’d settled into that comfortable silence, the kind where I could pretend I wasn’t freaking out inside. Then I went in.

“Okay,” I said, taking a slow sip. “I have so many questions. But first… can we just please acknowledge what happened in there?”

She gave me a side-eye. “God, can we not?”

I nearly choked on my drink. “Girl. You were full-on National Geographic. I thought mall security was gonna tase you.”

She laughed, actually laughed, and I felt the knot in my chest loosen a little. That sound always did it. Even now. Even with whatever weird, sexy, mysterious transformation she was going through.

“You’re evil,” she said, hiding behind her cup.

“You know it.”

Still got it, I told myself.

We joked around for a bit, me reminding her of the time I mooned the pizza guy (true), her calling me out for being a liar (also true), and for a minute, it was like nothing had changed.

But it had.

And I couldn’t let it go. Not really.

So I waited until her laugh faded, until she looked away just a little. Then I dropped my voice.

“Hey. You okay though? Not just from the dressing room drama. Like… in general?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared into the fountain like it was gonna give her wisdom or something.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think so. Life’s just… weird lately.”

Weird. Understatement of the year.

“Weird how?”

She took a breath. “Like I’m not totally me anymore. Or maybe I’m becoming more me than I ever was. I don’t know. Some days it feels like flying. Other days like I’m about to crash.”

That hit a little harder than I expected.

I nodded, trying not to show how freaked out I was. “Well, don’t crash, okay? I still need someone to help me talk shit about fitness influencers.”

She smiled. Real, soft. “And who else is gonna enable your smoothie addiction?”

“Exactly.”

But inside, I was screaming. Because this wasn’t just some breakup or bad grade stress, this was something deeper. Something she didn’t want to say.

She didn’t tell me. Not then.

But I felt it.

Something was pulling her somewhere. And I didn’t know if I could pull her back.

___ 🐺 ___

Cole’s room smelled like Axe body wash and the faint ghost of weed from earlier. His blinds were cracked open just enough to let in the glow from the streetlamp outside, turning everything soft orange and shadowed. The TV was on, low volume, some old cartoon playing, he probably watched as a kid. Just background noise. The fan ticked slowly overhead, stirring the air.

We were tangled on his bed, shirtless under the covers, his skin warm and sticky against mine. He’d been kissing my neck for the last few minutes, the lazy kind of kisses you give when you’re not in a rush and think you already know how the night’s going to go.

His hand slid up the back of my thigh. “You good?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I breathed, even though I wasn’t.

I kissed him back, just to prove it. His lips were familiar. His body was familiar. We’d done this a dozen times before, enough to have a rhythm, but not so many that it was boring. Usually, I could sink into it. Let go. Feel sexy, playful, just a little bit in control.

Cole’s hand slid higher, under my shirt now, fingertips brushing along my ribs, up to the swell of my breast. He kissed me again, deeper this time, with a little more hunger behind it. I kissed him back, but my eyes stayed closed.

And that’s when she crept in.

Madeline.

Naked in that tiny fitting room. That weird fluorescent light washed over her skin, making it glow like something unreal.

She looked… different. Not just because of the nakedness. Not just the shock. It was the way she stood. Her arms at her sides. Her body, loose, almost relaxed. Like it wasn’t a mistake, like being seen wasn’t the problem, it was the point.

I’d never really seen her before, not like that.

Her breasts were small but perfectly shaped, round and perky like she’d walked out of a bra ad without needing the bra. Her nipples were soft pink, tight from the air or the moment, maybe both. Her stomach was flat, not gym-obsessed, just naturally toned, with a faint line down the center like a shadow. She had these delicate little hipbones, the kind that made jeans sit just right.

But it was her skin that stuck with me most.

Smooth. Everywhere.

Like, razor-commercial smooth. Her legs, her arms, her underarms— even the soft slope above her pussy, completely bare. No stubble, no fuzz. Just silky, uninterrupted skin. It made her look soft and sharp at the same time. Like she’d been sculpted instead of born.

And between her legs…

I swallowed.

She was glistening. Just slightly. Not dripping or anything, but unmistakably wet. The kind of wet you don’t fake. It made her lips, those lips, shine in the light. The folds were soft, flushed, perfectly symmetrical; in this way, I hadn’t even realized I was noticing until later. Until now.

She looked… edible.

And then I remembered the way her eyes had met mine.

Not panicked. Not even embarrassed.

Just waiting.

Something low in my stomach flipped.

Cole’s mouth was at my collarbone now, his tongue warm and lazy, his hand sliding over my breast like it belonged there. I let out a breath, sharp and shaky, and arched into him again.

But it wasn’t his touch that was lighting me up.

It was the image of her.

Of Madeline.

Still. Bare. Wet.

And not afraid.

Cole’s hand slipped under my panties, fingers grazing over the heat between my legs. I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

“Jesus,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “You’re so wet.”

I bit my lip, hard.

Yeah. I was.

But not for him.

He eased a finger along my slit, spreading the slickness, and my thighs parted without thinking. I tilted my hips, chasing the pressure. I wanted it, just not the way he thought. Not from him, but through him. Like my body didn’t care who it was, as long as it gave me somewhere to put the heat pooling inside me.

His mouth found mine again, more desperate now, like he could feel me getting into it and didn’t want to lose the moment. His tongue slid against mine, hungry. His hand moved lower, circling that spot that already throbbed with tension.

I moaned quietly, startled.

But in my mind?

She was still there.

Madeline.

Hair loose around her face, the faintest flush across her cheeks. Breasts rising with each slow breath. And that perfect little pussy between her thighs, smooth and glistening and open.

I imagined touching her. Just… reaching out. Dragging a finger through that wetness, slow, just to see her react. Watching her thighs twitch, her breath catch. I wanted to see if she’d melt. If she’d moan. If she’d say my name in that quiet voice she used when she didn’t want to wake her parents during sleepovers.

Cole slipped a second finger inside me, and I clenched around it without meaning to.

“Fuck,” he breathed, kissing down my neck. “You’re driving me crazy.”

I let him think that.

Let him keep moving his hand just right, let my hips roll against his palm, let my skin burn from the inside out.

But my mind stayed somewhere else.

Buried in the way her legs looked spread just slightly. In the gleam of arousal between her thighs. In the way she didn’t cover herself. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop me from looking.

And God, I had looked—every inch.

Now my breath was coming fast, shallow. My nipples ached under my shirt. My core throbbed with a slow, steady ache that built each time Cole’s fingers curled.

But I wasn’t going to come. I couldn’t. Not with this much confusion twisting through me. Not when it felt like I was cheating on something I hadn’t even admitted I wanted.

I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss me harder, just so I didn’t say her name out loud.

I hooked my fingers into Cole’s hair and gave a little tug.

He looked up at me, lips already swollen from kissing. “Yeah?”

“Down,” I whispered, not quite trusting my voice.

He didn’t need more than that. He grinned and shifted down between my thighs, dragging the blanket with him. My tank was already bunched at my ribs, my panties pushed to the side, wet enough to stick to my skin. He kissed along my inner thigh, soft and slow, pausing like he wanted to hear me beg.

I didn’t.

I just pushed gently on the back of his head.

He got the message.

His mouth found me, his tongue warm and soft and practiced. He licked up the center of me in one long, slow stroke, and I felt my whole body arch in response. His fingers slid back inside, two of them this time, curling just right, pressing against that perfect spot he’d finally figured out after weeks of trial and error.

But it wasn’t him I saw.

It was her.

Madeline.

On her knees, lips shiny, eyes wide and dark. Her fingers slipping into me while her mouth hovered above, breath warm and teasing. I imagined her tongue, delicate and curious, licking into me with the same softness she used when she used to play with my hair during sleepovers. Her voice in my head, whispering Does this feel good? Like she didn’t even realize she was the one making me come apart.

Cole’s tongue circled my clit, slow and patient. He kissed it, sucked gently, then flicked faster when I gasped. His fingers matched the rhythm, building me higher, tighter. I grabbed a fistful of his sheets and moaned deep in my throat.

God, I was close.

But not to him.

In my mind, it was Madeline’s mouth on me. Her hands spread me open. Her fingers stroking slowly and deeply, her lips trailing kisses across my thighs. I imagined her watching me, watching, like she’d studied me for weeks and was only now ready to claim what she knew.

“Fuck,” I breathed, hips grinding against Cole’s face.

He moaned like he was proud of himself. He thought he was making me melt.

And my body was melting— tension coiling tighter with each flick of his tongue, every wet kiss that landed just right, every suck that made my clit throb.

But the more he gave me, the clearer her image became.

Madeline, wet and bare and spread for me.

Her thighs trembling.

Her mouth parted.

Each brush of my hand made her breath stutter, soft and involuntary.

I felt my thighs starting to shake. My back arched. The pressure inside me wound impossibly tight.

Cole didn’t pull away. He didn’t even hesitate. Just dipped his head again, tongue flattening against me, fingers curling right where I needed them.

The heat in my belly turned molten, flooding out through every inch of me. My thighs trembled. My toes curled. My breath caught in my throat like it didn’t know how to move through this much pleasure. The coil inside me snapped, hard and fast and full-body, and I moaned loudly.

His name almost left my lips.

But it wasn’t his name.

It was hers.

Madeline.

It burned at the back of my throat, a half-formed gasp I barely swallowed in time. My hand flew to my mouth, biting down on the inside of my palm to muffle the sound that almost betrayed everything.

Cole groaned against me, still working me through it, tongue slow now, almost reverent, like he knew I was coming but didn’t realize what, or who, had really done it.

I rocked against his mouth once more before collapsing back against the mattress, legs falling open, skin flushed and slick with sweat.

My heart thundered.

My body buzzed.

And behind my eyelids… She was still there.

Madeline, kneeling between my legs, lips glistening, eyes locked on mine.

Not smiling.

Not teasing.

Just knowing.