The room was quiet, wrapped in the soft hush of early morning. Sunlight filtered through the blinds in thin golden stripes, casting lazy patterns across the sheets.
Joren stirred first.
His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the light. Jenny's head was still on his chest, her breath warm and steady. Tasha laid beside him, facing him, one leg draped over his thigh. His phone buzzed faintly on the pillow near his head.
He groaned, reaching for it with sluggish fingers. For a second, he thought it was an alarm.
It wasn't.
A missed call.
From Dale.
The screen dimmed before he could answer, the call dismissed.
Joren squinted at the screen, still dazed. "Twenty-seven?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Then it hit him.
"Twenty-seven!" he whispered, adjusting himself slightly without disturbing Jenny. Her head shifted but didn't lift.
He unlocked the phone, eyes scanning the notifications.
Twenty missed calls from Dale.
Five from Lana.
Two from Zuri.
His mind raced. What the hell had happened overnight?
He glanced at the two women beside him, then slipped the phone to his ear and dialed Dale.
The call connected instantly.
"Where the hell are you?" Dale's voice came through, sharp and breathless—he was clearly out for a morning jog.
Joren lowered his voice, careful not to wake Jenny or Tasha. "I'm crashing at a friend's place."
Dale didn't miss a beat. "That's your second consecutive night of 'crashing at a friend's place.' You gonna tell me what's going on?"
Joren hesitated. "It's nothing."
Dale's tone shifted, suspicious now. "You sure? You're acting weird, man."
A moment of silence passed before Joren spoke. "Why did you call me twenty times?"
Dale exhaled sharply, irritation creeping into his voice. "Because Lana came by last night. Said she wanted to talk to you."
Joren's heart skipped. "Lana?"
"Yeah. She showed up at the room asking for you. Said she'd wait until you got back."
Joren shifted again, careful not to jostle Jenny. His thoughts spun. Why would Lana come looking for him? What did she want?
But something else tugged at him — Dale's tone. It wasn't just concern. It was annoyance.
"Why do you sound pissed?" Joren asked.
Silence.
Then Dale replied, clipped and guarded. "It's nothing."
Joren narrowed his eyes. "Doesn't sound like nothing."
Joren frowned at Dale's vague reply. "Doesn't sound like nothing."
There was a pause on the line — not long, but heavy. Joren could hear Dale's footsteps slow, the rhythm of his jog faltering.
Then—
Before Dale could respond, a soft rustling broke the silence.
Tasha stirred beside him, her voice groggy and half-muffled by the pillow. "Who're you talking to?"
Joren turned quickly, lowering the phone from his ear.
Dale's voice sharpened through the speaker. "Who was that?"
Joren didn't answer Dale's question. Instead, he ended the call with a quiet tap and let the phone fall onto the bed beside him.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands.
Tasha blinked awake, her voice still thick with sleep. "You gonna tell me who it was?"
"Dale."
Joren replied, his gaze distant.
"Why'd you cut the call so fast?"
"I didn't want him to know I was here."
Tasha's brow arched, her curiosity sharpening. "Why not?"
Joren opened his mouth to answer, but the words never came.
Because just then, Jenny stirred.
Her head shifted on his chest, her lashes fluttering before her eyes opened — slow, unfocused, and then suddenly wide.
For a moment, Joren froze.
Her gaze met his, and something flickered in his chest — warm, fluttering, unexpected. Like the hush before a kiss. Like the pause before a confession. She looked stunning from the angle at which he saw her, and for a moment, Joren's face flushed pink.
Then Jenny's eyes widened fully. She sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet to her chest.
"Oh my God," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I cant believe... i can't believe I slept with someone I just met."
Joren's heart sank a little, but he didn't show it.
Tasha chuckled, stretching lazily. "Relax. Joren's clean."
She turned to him. "You are, right?"
Joren nodded quickly. "Yeah."
Jenny stood, wrapping the sheet around herself. "That's not what I meant. It's just… I... I feel like a slut."
Tasha smirked. "You sure acted like one yesterday."
Jenny's face flushed deep red.
"Stop it!"
She shouted, grabbing her clothes and rushing into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her.
Inside, she leaned against the door, breathing hard. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, her hand resting over her heart.
It was racing.
Not from panic. Not from shame.
From something else.
Her fingers curled slightly against her chest, as if trying to hold the feeling in place. That flutter. That warmth.
"Why am I feeling like this?" she whispered. "Is it because of him?"
She shook her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered — stubborn and warm. Her lips parted, her breath shallow, and she murmured to herself, "What is wrong with me?"
Back in the room, Joren was already dressed, pulling on his hoodie and checking his phone again meanwhile Tasha lay sprawled across the bed, watching him with half-lidded eyes.
"You heading out?" she asked.
"Yeah," Joren replied. "Before Dale tracks me here."
Tasha nodded, stretching her arms above her head. "Come back soon. We've got more good times to have."
Joren smiled faintly. "I'll see you later."
He grabbed his bag, gave one last glance toward Tasha, and stepped out into the hallway.