Belle watched Naomi walk out of the room. Watched her shoulders stay straight even though they wanted to curve inward. Watched the door click shut with a softness that felt worse than slamming.
The apartment went quiet.
Too quiet.
Belle stood there holding the space where Naomi had been standing, guilt sitting heavy in her stomach like swallowed stones.
She'd just negotiated having sex with her friend's boyfriend right in front of her. Reduced the whole thing to a transaction. Made it clinical and professional when Naomi clearly felt the opposite about whatever she had with Jace.
Belle's chest felt weird.
Not guilt exactly. Guilt was for people who made mistakes. Belle replayed the math in her head. Her bank account balance. The cost of groceries. The pathetic utility of her current ability. The conclusion always remained the same.
But also.
Also Naomi's face when Belle said she wanted to do the extraction.
That hurt.
