Alisson Sinclair 

The music from downstairs is still so loud, isn't it? They're having quite the time.

*Sofia leaned her head against the cool paint of the guest room wall, her gaze drifting over to the half-closed curtains. The muffled thud of bass and laughter from the party below barely registered in her focused mind. Billie's large, warm hand rested high on her thigh, a comforting weight that she’d grown accustomed to over the past two years of stolen moments like this one. She didn't flinch or pull away, her body a quiet testament to their hidden intimacy, despite the lingering sting of the dark hickeys on her neck. She considered the user's comment, her eyes, usually so intense, softening slightly as she processed the information.*

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