Estelle stood against the cool brick wall, still reeling from the kiss—Celeste’s lips, her hands, the heat that had consumed them both. Her heart was racing, her skin tingling with the aftershock of their sudden, fiery collision. She tried to steady her breath, but her mind was swirling. Everything between them had come to a head in those few minutes, and now Celeste was stepping away to answer a phone call as if nothing had just happened.
As Celeste walked a few steps away, her expression turned sharp and businesslike, her voice low but intense. Estelle couldn’t help but watch her, trying to make sense of the sudden change in energy. She felt vulnerable and exposed, standing there in the aftermath of such an intimate moment, but Celeste had switched back to her cool, controlled self in an instant.
Who was she talking to?
Estelle strained to hear as Celeste spoke into the phone, her tone clipped and serious.
“Yes,” Celeste said in a low, hushed tone, her back partially turned to Estelle. “I know. But this can’t wait any longer.”
Estelle’s curiosity piqued. Who could Celeste possibly be talking to at this hour, right after… that? She tried to shake off the remnants of the kiss, tried to focus on the professor’s words. There was something urgent in her voice—something that suggested this wasn’t just a casual conversation.
Celeste paused, listening intently to whoever was on the other end of the call. Her fingers flexed slightly at her side, a clear sign of agitation. “I understand the risks, but this has to be handled now.”
Estelle’s mind whirled with possibilities. Was it work? It didn’t sound like a regular call from the office. The way Celeste was speaking, the intensity in her voice—it was personal, almost too personal. Estelle watched as Celeste ran a hand through her hair, the same hand that had been gripping Estelle moments earlier with such possessive force.
“Don’t question me on this,” Celeste snapped suddenly, her tone sharp, biting. “I’m handling it.”
Estelle’s stomach twisted. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the way Celeste’s entire posture had shifted—the rigidness in her back, the way her voice lowered even further, almost as if she didn’t want Estelle to hear.
Who could possibly make Celeste Thorne—the woman who never lost control—this tense?
As the conversation continued, Estelle leaned back against the wall, torn between wanting to give Celeste privacy and needing to know what was going on. The last few weeks had been a rollercoaster of emotions between them, and tonight had only intensified everything. Now, watching Celeste handle whatever this call was, it felt like another layer of mystery had been added to an already complicated relationship.
Celeste’s voice dropped again. “No, you’re not listening. I said I’m taking care of it. Don’t involve yourself any further.”
Involve? Who was this person? A colleague? A client? A lover?
That last thought made Estelle’s heart skip a beat, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy blooming in her chest. She quickly pushed the thought away. She had no right to be jealous—not after everything that had just happened. But still, the way Celeste was speaking, the tension in her voice… it felt personal.
After another long pause, Celeste let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t have time for this right now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” And with that, she ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket.
Estelle straightened, her nerves tingling as Celeste turned back toward her. The professor’s face was a mask of controlled calm, but her eyes… there was something in her eyes. Something unsettled.
“Who was that?” Estelle asked before she could stop herself, the words slipping out.
Celeste’s eyes flicked toward her, sharp and guarded. “It’s not important,” she said briskly, her voice still tight.
Estelle raised an eyebrow, her stomach knotting. “It sounded important.”
Celeste hesitated, just for a moment, and that brief pause was enough to tell Estelle that whoever had been on the other end of that call was important. The tension between them shifted, the weight of their unresolved relationship hanging heavy in the air again.
“You’re drunk, Estelle,” Celeste said, deflecting, her tone turning cool again. “I’ll take you home.”
Estelle’s frustration flared. Celeste always did this—shutting her out, pulling away whenever things got too close, too personal. “Stop deflecting,” Estelle snapped, surprising even herself with the anger in her voice. “You can’t just kiss me like that and then act like nothing happened. Who were you talking to?”
Celeste’s eyes darkened, but this time with warning. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Estelle stepped forward, her pulse quickening with a mix of anger and the raw tension still simmering between them. “You owe me something. After everything we’ve been through, after tonight—you can’t just keep shutting me out.”
Celeste’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something more vulnerable. For a moment, it seemed like she might finally say something—something real, something honest. But then, just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place.
“We’re not doing this here,” Celeste said, her voice low and controlled. “You’re drunk. Let’s go.”
Estelle opened her mouth to argue, to push harder, but Celeste stepped forward, her hand gently but firmly gripping Estelle’s arm as she guided her away from the building and toward the street. The feel of Celeste’s touch, even now, sent a shiver down Estelle’s spine, but the questions still burned inside her.
Who had been on that call? And why did it feel like Celeste was hiding something from her?
As they walked, the tension between them remained, heavy and unresolved. Celeste hailed a cab, and Estelle felt a mixture of relief and frustration as they climbed inside. The silence between them was suffocating, and even as the cab drove through the quiet streets, Estelle couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had only raised more questions than it answered.
And the biggest question of all was still echoing in her mind:
Who is she talking to?
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