Between Us

☆ part forty ☆

Sophie's pov

Lark's grip on my arm was firm but careful as she led me through the noisy house. My head was swimming, not just from the alcohol coursing through my veins but from the sight I had walked in on downstairs—Chloe's hand on Lark's. The image replayed in my mind like a bad dream, every detail stoking the fire in my chest. We reached the stairs, and the sound of laughter and music faded with each step. Lark's hand didn't leave my arm, even as we walked down the hallway, her eyes scanning for an empty room. She pushed open the first door she found—a small, quiet bedroom with a neatly made bed and soft lighting spilling through the window. She ushered me inside, closing the door behind us.

For a moment, there was only silence, save for my uneven breathing and the muffled sounds of the party below. Lark leaned against the door, her shoulders slumping as she let out a quiet sigh. She turned to face me, her green eyes filled with concern. "Sophie," she said softly, stepping toward me. Her hands reached up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks. "Are you okay? You look—"

"Don't," I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. I pushed her hands away and stepped back. "Don't act like you care about how I'm feeling when you were out there with her."

Lark blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I said, my voice rising. My hands balled into fists at my sides as the jealousy and hurt churned inside me like a storm. "Why the fuck were you alone with her, Lark? What were you doing?"

Lark stared at me, her expression hard to read. "I was talking to her, Sophie," she said carefully, like she was trying not to set me off further. "You told me to talk to her, remember? You said I needed to sort things out with her."

"Bullshit," I spat, the word coming out sharp and bitter. My heart pounded in my chest as I took a shaky step forward, glaring at her. "You weren't just talking. I saw her hand on yours, Lark."

Lark's expression shifted—hurt flickered in her eyes, but frustration quickly followed. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. "And then you saw me pull mine away," she said, her voice rising slightly but still measured.

"You shouldn't have let it get to that point!" I shouted, the tears I'd been holding back now threatening to spill. "You should have gotten up and fucking left the moment she tried anything!"

Lark let out a frustrated breath, her green eyes narrowing. "And go to who, Sophie?" she said, her voice cracking as the words spilled out. "To my girlfriend who doesn't even want people to know we're together? To the girl who treats me like a secret, like something to be ashamed of?"

Her words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of me. I stumbled back a step, the room spinning around me. "That's not fair," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Isn't it?" Lark shot back, her voice shaking now. She threw her arms up in exasperation, pacing a few steps away from me. "Do you have any idea how it feels, Sophie? To love you so much it hurts and to have to pretend like we're nothing? To watch you freeze up the moment anyone even looks at us too long?" Tears stung my eyes, and my throat tightened as her words sank in. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Lark turned her back to me, one hand gripping the edge of the dresser like she needed the support. She bowed her head, her shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. "You're drunk," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm not doing this with you right now, Sophie. Not like this."

Her words broke something inside me, and a tear slipped down my cheek. "Lark..." I started, my voice trembling. But she didn't turn around. She didn't look at me. The space between us felt like a chasm, and I had no idea how to cross it.