Tangled Strings

Chapter 7: Another Show, Another Cut

Ruka scoffed. “Right. Because she totally looked like she was forced to watch you the entire time.”

That made Chiquita pause.

Because the truth was, she had felt Ahyeon’s gaze on her. Even from the stage.

And it had done something to her.

But that didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Ahyeon had made her stance clear. Over and over again.

And Chiquita was done waiting for something that was never going to happen.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, grabbing a bottle of water. “She doesn’t care.”

Rora studied her for a long moment before saying, “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

And Chiquita hated that she was right.

---

The after-party was loud, suffocating, and exactly what Chiquita needed.

She threw back another drink, feeling the burn slide down her throat.

The music pounded through the air, bodies pressed together on the makeshift dance floor.

And when a girl—someone she vaguely recognized from the debate team—slid up beside her, leaning in close, Chiquita didn’t stop her.

Didn’t stop her when she whispered something in her ear.

Didn’t stop her when their lips met, hungry and reckless.

Didn’t stop herself from pretending that it wasn’t a mistake.

She let the girl pull her closer, hands tangling in Chiquita’s hair, lips trailing down her jaw.

She let herself get lost in it.

Because if she was kissing someone else, then maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t think about Ahyeon.

Wouldn’t think about the way she had looked at her during the performance.

Wouldn’t think about the fact that, no matter how many people wanted her, there was only one person she wanted.

And she sure as hell wasn’t going to get her.

So she kissed harder. Let hands roam. Let herself be wanted.

And for a moment, it almost worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because just as she was about to pull the girl into something deeper, something to make her forget—

A voice cut through the noise.

Cold. Sharp.

“Having fun?”

Chiquita’s breath caught in her throat.

She pulled back slightly, turning her head just enough to see—

Ahyeon.

Standing there. Watching.

Expression unreadable.

But her eyes—her eyes—

Chiquita smirked, forcing herself to look unaffected. “Didn’t know you came to parties, Vice President.”

Ahyeon didn’t respond.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

The girl beside Chiquita shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension. “Uh… I’ll be right back.”

She slipped away, leaving just the two of them.

Chiquita exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “What, you here to scold me for PDA or something?”

Ahyeon’s jaw clenched. “You really don’t care, do you?”

Chiquita’s smirk faltered.

Because that—the way Ahyeon said it—was different.

Not cold. Not dismissive.

Just… quiet.

Almost like she was hurt.

Chiquita swallowed. “Why should I care?” she shot back. “You sure as hell don’t.”

Ahyeon didn’t say anything.

Didn’t argue.

And that made something crack inside Chiquita.

She let out a bitter laugh. “Wow. Nothing? No snarky comeback? No ‘you’re being annoying, Chiquita’?”

Ahyeon’s fingers curled into fists. “I never said you were annoying.”

Chiquita scoffed. “You didn’t have to.”

Ahyeon took a step closer.

And Chiquita hated that her heart reacted.

“You think I don’t care?” Ahyeon asked, voice lower now.

Chiquita didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know anymore.

Ahyeon inhaled sharply. “You—” She stopped. Shook her head. “Forget it.”

She turned to leave.

And Chiquita—who had chased and chased and chased—

Didn’t stop her this time.

Didn’t run after her.

Didn’t say, Don’t go.

Because she was tired.

Tired of fighting for someone who only ever walked away.

So she watched her go.

And this time, she was the one who turned her back first.