Oakley Ponciano paused mid-step, confused. "Hm?"
Before Grace Barron could respond, two staggering drunkards stumbled past them, utterly lost in their own inebriation. One of them veered too far and crashed directly into Oakley.
Her heel gave out with a snap, and she lurched downward uncontrollably.
Grace's brows knit. Without a second thought, she caught Oakley around the waist. In that instant, their bodies pressed close, breath shared. The world seemed to still around them.
Grace steadied her, leaning in just enough to murmur near her ear, "You okay?"
Oakley wriggled free from her arms, awkwardly brushing herself off. "Thanks... I'm alright."
But the moment the words left her mouth, pain bloomed across her face. She tried bending to check her foot, but her balance had vanished; without Grace's support, she couldn't even stand properly.
"You hurt yourself?" Grace asked, already sensing the answer.
Oakley swayed, frustrated and unsteady. "Seems like it."
Without warning, Grace's hands settled on either side of her waist—warmth spreading through the fabric, grounding her. Before Oakley could react, her feet left the floor and she was seated atop the sleek marble counter.
Stunned, Oakley stared at her, wide-eyed like a startled rabbit, trying to jump back down.
Grace, anticipating it, held her gently by the shoulders and guided her back in place. Chin tilted, gaze unwavering, she half-smiled. "If you don't want to make that injury worse, Miss Ponciano, I'd advise staying put."
There was something in Grace's eyes—commanding yet strangely soothing—that made Oakley, against her instincts, stay still.
Grace crouched in front of her and gently removed the broken heel—heel and sole completely separated.
Only then did Oakley realize Grace had placed her somewhere she could sit comfortably while dealing with the injury.
Grace's movements were precise and light, but Oakley's feet were especially sensitive. The moment Grace's fingers brushed against her skin, a ticklish shiver ran up her spine. She clenched her hands harder against the counter, forcing herself to stay still.
"Here—does this spot hurt?" Grace asked, pressing two fingers against her ankle.
Oakley clenched her jaw. "Yes."
Grace nodded. "Let's take off the other one too. I'll help you out to the car, then we'll find somewhere to get it checked."
This made twice now—twice she'd had to rely on Grace when she wasn't at her best.
But Oakley was in no position to argue. Begrudgingly, she did as instructed.
She tossed her shoes in the bin, and, leaning on Grace, hobbled out of the bar.
Once they reached the car, Grace helped her into the passenger seat and sent Sabrina Myers a quick message before turning to her. "Did you drive here tonight?"
Oakley buckled her seatbelt, shaking her head. "No. I was planning to drink, so I took a car."
"Smart move." Grace checked the nearest hospital on her phone, started the navigation, and headed off.
About fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a hospital parking lot. Grace helped Oakley out, supporting her as they entered to register.
After the examination, the doctor confirmed it was a sprain. No broken bones, just rest and care needed. Oakley finally let out a breath of relief.
With the prescriptions for bruise and injury ointments in hand, Grace drove her back to Silvercrest Heights.
She helped Oakley into the apartment, led her to the sofa, and brushed Oakley's long hair behind her shoulders with quiet care. "You need to rest these next few days. No wandering around."
"I know." Oakley reached for a wet wipe, cleaning her foot while eyeing her companion. "By the way... back at the bar, why'd you pull me aside so suddenly?"
Grace gave a slow, teasing smile. "Because Miss Ponciano said she wouldn't interrupt me getting cozy with someone. I was curious—who exactly was I getting cozy with? You sure you weren't seeing things?"
Oakley fiddled with the medicine box, muttering, "Hard to miss... it was pretty eye-catching."
Grace grinned. "Do I look like someone who's insatiable?"
Oakley opened the box, letting a round bottle roll into her palm. With a playful arch of her brow, she quipped, "How would I know? That's... private."
Grace chuckled. "That was just a friend-of-a-friend. She got drunk and leaned on me."
"Ohhh, drunk, was she..." Oakley drawled, tone laced with suggestion.
Grace nodded calmly. "She's heartbroken. Breakups hit her hard. She had a few too many."
Oakley wasn't familiar with same-sex relationships, but when she imagined the scenario through a straight lens, things got a bit... hazy. If Grace were a man, even an accidental lean like that would've felt ambiguous.
She decided to be gracious about it. "Maybe my thinking's just too rigid."
And it wasn't her business anyway. They were colleagues. Barely even friends.
Oakley uncapped the bottle, tipped some ointment onto her fingers, and rubbed it onto her ankle. Then she capped it and set it aside.
Grace watched, unimpressed. "That's it?"
Oakley nodded. "Yup."
"Miss Ponciano, don't you think that's a bit too casual?" Grace's lashes fluttered low, her voice half stern. "It's not going to heal like that."
Oakley blinked. "What?"
Without warning, Grace crouched again, grasped her ankle, and tugged her foot gently forward. Oakley stiffened, glaring down at her.
Grace ignored it, rubbing the ointment in with firm, even pressure. "It has to be massaged in. That's how it works."
The touch was light, but Oakley's nerves were on high alert. Her whole body tensed, shoulder curling slightly like a cat ready to hiss.
Grace glanced up and laughed under her breath. "No need to tense up like that. I told you—I'm a decent person. I'm not going to do anything inappropriate."
Oakley pulled her leg back up onto the sofa, adjusting her strap. "I never said you weren't. I'm just... ticklish."
Grace smiled, letting it go. "Alright. It's late—I'll leave you to rest. Take care."
She rinsed her hands in the sink, turned toward the door, and left quietly.
Once the door clicked shut, Oakley crept over to the sofa's edge, peeked toward the entrance to make sure she was alone.
Finally, the taut string in her chest loosened.
She flopped back against the cushions with a sigh, rubbing her temple. Being around Grace always made her feel like she was being... disarmed. Not violently, just subtly. Every time.
It was unsettling.
Just as she was wondering how she'd manage to shower tonight, her phone buzzed.
It was a message from her friend, Natalie Pierce.
Natalie: "Oakley, I'm coming back to the country."
Instantly, Oakley perked up.
Natalie was a fashion content creator she'd met a couple of years ago. Unlike Oakley, who worked locally, Natalie had been building her platform abroad.
Most of Oakley's friends in Skylark had already gotten married and become picture-perfect housewives. Their meetups had grown sparse and dull.
But now—with Natalie returning—things might actually become fun again.
Oakley: "That's awesome! When do you get back? Want to grab dinner?"
Natalie: "Next Thursday!"
Oakley: "Perfect. Let's plan something then!"
Just as she was about to exit the app, she remembered—she hadn't done anything today for her "marital destiny manifesting plan."
So she switched accounts and logged into her matchmaking profile.
Her contact list had grown to three. She'd added several new people today... but none left much of an impression. Some were dull; others felt sketchy.
Take the guy with the username "Spring Breeze Ain't Got Nothing On You"—he spoke like he bathed in an oil field, constantly throwing greasy pickup lines like a machine.
His final message? "Ever since I met you, I want to be one kind of person—yours."
Oakley nearly gagged. Blocked.
Among them all, only one user—deep sea—stood out as normal and actually interesting.
She opened the chat and typed:
Oakley: "Hey, how was your day?"
Grace, who had just pulled into her garage, saw the message.
She stared at it for a beat, then smiled.
Grace: "The usual—uneventful."
She entered the elevator and pressed the button for her floor.
deep sea: "Ha, mine wasn't. It was quite the rollercoaster."
Grace stepped out and replied:
Grace: "Oh? Tell me more."
deep sea: "Well, I won't name names—I'm not the kind of person who stabs others in the back."
Unlike some people—Grace, who acted innocent on the surface while liking shady gossip posts behind the scenes. Oakley, even when she disliked someone, would at least keep appearances in public.
Still thinking of Grace, Oakley frowned and typed:
Oakley: "Actually, I'm curious about something."
Grace: "Shoot."
After a long pause:
Oakley: "Homosexuals don't just randomly get feelings for anyone of the same gender, right? Even if someone's clinging to them?"
Grace: "Of course not. Most of the time, everyone around me is just talking meat."
deep sea: "Haha, got it. Makes sense."
Okay... maybe she had misunderstood Grace.
Oakley thought for a moment, then added:
Oakley: "One more question?"
Grace: "?"
There was a long pause before Oakley finally sent it:
Oakley: "Sorry if it's bold, but... are you the top or bottom?"
Grace replied coolly:
Grace: "If you mean in bed, I wouldn't know. Never done it."
deep sea: "Wait, what? Then what was the point of that past relationship?"
Grace: "She said she wasn't ready."
deep sea: "That sucks. Weren't you going crazy?"
Grace: "?"
deep sea: "I mean, the physical frustration. Being in love but having to suppress all that."
Grace: "I manage. I don't think I have much of a sex drive."
deep sea: "You're asexual?"
Grace: "Not sure."
These last few years had been so overwhelming, she barely had time to think about such things. Back home, she poured herself a glass of hot water and took a sip—
Just as her phone buzzed again.
deep sea: "Let me send you a product. It's amazing. You can test if you're truly asexual."
A few seconds later, a link came through.
Grace read the title—and nearly choked on her water.
"Silent, Joyful Helper for Ladies at Night – Highly Recommended."