Chapter 3

Kris watched Monica, her doubt a tangible barrier between them. With an eye roll and a dismissive glance, Monica retreated into the jazz club, leaving Kris standing alone. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Kris, instinctively, sought out Maddie, who was indulging in a slice of dark chocolate cake.

"Hey," Kris greeted, sliding into the chair opposite Maddie.

"Oh, hi!" Maddie replied, pausing her culinary exploration to acknowledge Kris. "Don't mind me asking, but what did you two talk about?" she asked, her tone friendly.

"I..." Kris hesitated, searching for a palatable lie. She wasn't ready to delve into the complexities of her conversation with Monica. "It's nothing, just work stuff," she finally offered, a carefully constructed facade.

Maddie nodded, returning to her cake with evident delight, savoring each decadent bite. Her focused attention on the dessert was almost comical.

"Easy there, you'll scare the cake," Kris joked.

Maddie looked up, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I don't mind. I'm cruel," she retorted playfully, continuing her gastronomic assault.

Kris watched her, a small smile playing on her lips. Monica's words echoed in her mind, a nagging curiosity she tried to suppress.

Hours later, Kris's shift ended, and she walked Maddie out of the club.

"I had a great time," Maddie said, her smile genuine.

"Me too. Oh, and um, I, uh, I don't know if it's too soon or something, but can I follow you on socials?" Kris asked, a hint of shyness in her voice.

Maddie considered for a moment before nodding casually. "Of course, I don't mind."

"But, oh, I just realized I don't have my phone on me... Maybe just give me your username?" Maddie suggested, a light chuckle escaping her lips.

"Sure, sure, uhh. Wait a minute... I'll go back inside to grab a pen and paper," Kris said, darting back into the club, leaving Maddie waiting outside.

As Maddie waited, Monica emerged, Scott by her side, their hands intertwined. Monica's demeanor shifted instantly, a friendly smile replacing her earlier indifference.

"Hi!" Monica greeted.

Maddie offered a polite smile in return. "Hi..."

"Scott, you should go on ahead. Wait for me in the parking area," Monica said to Scott.

"Alright," Scott replied, nodding to Maddie before heading towards the parking lot.

"He's a good man," Maddie remarked, her tone friendly.

"Oh?" Monica replied. "Yeah, especially now that he's a father," she added, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

"Congratulations," Maddie said, her smile widening as she looked at Monica's stomach.

"Thank you," Monica replied, her tone appreciative. "Well, I know this might seem a bit out of the blue, but it's been so long since I saw you again..." she began, changing the subject.

Maddie tilted her head, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. "What?"

Monica paused, her gaze intense. "Seriously? Well, it makes sense since we weren't really that close," she chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "But, for some reason, even after all these years—damn, I can't even tell you how long—I still remember you..." she mused, her words laced with intention.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..." Maddie stammered, her voice laced with confusion. Her expression turned serious.

"Maddie Lopez. The infamous playgirl at St. Aurora University. Rings any bells?" Monica pressed, her eyes fixed on Maddie's.

Maddie froze, a wave of memories washing over her.

College had been a stage, and I, the effortless star. Attention was a given, a constant hum of adoration that followed me like a shadow. Others craved it, stumbled in their pursuit, lacking some essential spark. But not me. I was a master of the human script, able to read people with an almost unsettling ease. My school years were a smooth, predictable performance. People, enamored, were easily swayed, their judgment clouded by the spectacle I presented. It was almost too simple.

Boys, however, were a puzzle I couldn't solve. Throughout my teens, I'd chased the phantom of a fulfilling relationship, each encounter leaving me more hollow than the last. Kisses, hugs, fleeting connections—they were all empty promises. Frustration simmered, finally boiling over, and I swore off the charade. My reputation, earned through a string of brief, often overlapping romances, preceded me. Whispers followed me down the hallways, names hurled in my wake. But even then, there was a strange, almost pathetic, adoration lurking beneath the surface.

Then came St. Aurora University. College was never part of the plan. Graduation was supposed to be a launchpad to a life of adoration, a career where I could bask in the glow of public approval. Acting, perhaps, or something equally… captivating. But those aspirations had faded, replaced by a vague sense of restlessness.

Monday morning, the university buzzed with the energy of a welcoming party. I wandered through the crowd, a bored observer in a sea of enthusiasm. "Now what?" I muttered, my gaze sweeping over the scene. Students milled about, each with their own agenda.

"Uh, excuse me?"

A voice broke through my detachment. I turned, a flicker of curiosity in my eyes.

A young woman stood beside me, her presence a quiet contrast to the surrounding chaos. Short, dark hair framed a face made intriguing by square glasses. She was conventionally attractive, but it was something else that caught my attention.

"Oh, sorry to disturb you, but I'm a member of an organization called 'Nature and History of Art.' We do a lot of fun activities," she said, her tone warm and inviting.

Something shifted within me. My gaze locked onto hers, an inexplicable pull drawing me in. The words she spoke faded into background noise; all that mattered was the woman before me.

"We also do outside activities and research, if you're interested, I'd gladly appreciate it," she continued, oblivious to my intense scrutiny.

A jolt of awareness snapped me back to the present. I offered a practiced smile.

 "Sure, count me in." The words were out before I could fully comprehend their meaning. I didn't know why I agreed, but the thought of losing sight of her was unbearable. It was as if an invisible thread had connected us, a force pulling me towards her, something beyond mere physical attraction.

"Maddie? Monica?" Kris called out, emerging from the club, a pen and paper in hand. She looked at the two women, her brow furrowed in confusion at the tense silence.

"Oh, hey, Kris. Well, gotta go..." Monica said, her voice strained. She turned and walked away, leaving Maddie and Kris alone.

Kris raised an eyebrow, approaching Maddie. "Uh, is everything alright?" she asked, noticing Maddie's dazed expression.

Maddie slowly looked at Kris, a small, forced smile on her lips. "Is that the pen and paper...?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah..." Kris replied, handing her the items.

Maddie took them, writing her social media handle on the paper.

"So, uh, what happened back there?" Kris asked casually.

Maddie paused, but continued writing. She finished, handing the paper to Kris without a word.

"It's nothing... She just told me she's pregnant," Maddie said, her tone deliberately casual.

Kris nodded, accepting the paper. "She told you? Well, you know, I still have to talk to her about something..." she chuckled.

"I think I should go... I, well, my apartment has a curfew... the landlord's pretty strict..." Maddie said, her tone rushed.

Kris nodded awkwardly. "Of course, uh, I'll accompany you."

"No, I'm fine..." Maddie declined quickly. "Bye. Nice meeting you, and thank you again," she said, turning and walking away without hesitation.

Kris watched Maddie's retreating figure, a knot of confusion tightening in her stomach. A barrage of questions clamored for attention, some demanding immediate answers, others begging to be ignored. She opted for dismissal, pushing the unsettling encounter to the back of her mind.

Maddie, meanwhile, walked with a determined stride, her pace quickening unconsciously. The neon glow of the clubs and storefronts blurred as she passed, her mind consumed by the resurfaced memories, memories she'd painstakingly buried. A wave of unease washed over her, a tangible shift in her mood.

"Why now?" she muttered to herself, the question echoing in the silent corridors of her mind. "I buried those memories for a reason."

A frown creased her brow. "Who was she, anyway? What does she want from me?"

"I'm not that person anymore," she thought, her pace quickening with each step. "I was wrong, I know that."

She stopped abruptly, her head bowed, her fists clenched in frustration. The past, once a distant echo, now roared in her ears.

"How dare she?" she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and anxiety. "Is she here to threaten me?"

A flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes. "Am I scared of her? Absolutely not."

But a darker thought followed, a chilling realization. "If she's going to tell Kris... I have to do something."

Kris fished her phone out of her pocket, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I forgot I had this on me," she muttered, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. "Dumbass."

She unfolded the paper Maddie had given her, her eyes scanning the name scribbled on it. "Maddie Lopez..." she murmured, a soft smile forming as she pictured Maddie's face in her mind.

But then, Monica's words echoed in her thoughts, a discordant note disrupting the pleasant reverie. Kris's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of unease. "There's no way," she thought, her brow furrowing. "Monica's wrong... about something like that. But... is it really true?"