Oh, A red-head smoke show

The doorbell chimes again, more insistently this time. David gives you an appraising look.

"So... you want to meet Clara? You realize she's going to have questions, right?"

You tug at the hem of the green sweater you're wearing—Clara's sweater—and nod. "I'll figure something out."

"Right, then." David pushes off from the doorframe and heads to answer the door. You hear the latch click, followed by a woman's animated voice floating down the hallway.

"David, babe! You won't believe the night I had. That guy from the bank? Total disaster. Couldn't get it up after three gin and tonics—"

The voice cuts off abruptly as David murmurs something too low for you to hear. There's a beat of silence, then:

"Wait, what? Matt's turned into a what?"

You cringe, smoothing down your copper waves with trembling fingers. The app vibrates in your hand with a message from Becky—"Good luck with this one, Mia! "—but you quickly slide it into your back pocket as footsteps approach the kitchen.

Clara appears in the doorway, her jaw literally hanging open. She's tall and willowy, with sleek auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail, dramatic winged eyeliner accentuating almond-shaped eyes, and a perfectly contoured face. Her outfit—a cropped leather jacket over a white bodycon dress—screams confidence and style.

https://imgur.com/a/9RnXa8m

"Holy. Fucking. Shit," she enunciates, scanning you from head to toe. "Either I'm still drunk from last night, or..." She turns to David, jabbing a finger in your direction. "That's not Matt."

David leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Well, technically..."

You step forward, extending your hand. "I'm... borrowing your clothes. Temporarily. Hope that's okay."

Clara ignores your hand, circling you like a shark. "Those jeans look better on you than they ever did on me," she mutters, more to herself than you. "And that's my emergency date sweater. I was a gift from my Mum."

"I can explain," you start, though you absolutely cannot explain—at least not the truth.

"Oh, this should be good." Clara perches herself on one of the kitchen stools, crossing her long legs and leaning forward with theatrical interest. "Please, enlighten us. How exactly did Matt's flatmate turn into this adorable little redhead overnight? And why are you wearing my clothes?"

David shoots you a look that's equal parts curiosity and amusement. They're both waiting for your explanation.

"I'm... an "old friend" of Matt's," you hear yourself saying, the words coming from some **** corner of your brain. "From Ireland. He's... away for a while. Asked David if I could stay here until he gets back."

"And he gave you a key?" Clara raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"David let me in," you say quickly.

Clara's eyes narrow as she turns to David. "And you're just letting random Irish pixies crash in your flat now?"

David shrugs. "She showed up this morning. Said Matt told her she could stay."

You're grateful for his vague truth—you did indeed show up this morning, albeit in a completely different form.

"Mmm-hmm." Clara's skepticism is palpable. "And you're wearing my clothes because..."

"I lost my luggage," you improvise. "At the airport. David mentioned you'd left some things here, and I desperately needed something to wear."

Clara studies you for a long moment, then breaks into a sudden smile that transforms her face completely. "Well, they do look cute on you. I'm Clara, by the way, since no one's bothered to introduce us properly." She extends a manicured hand.

"Sh—" you begin, but something feels wrong with the name in your mouth. "Mia," you finish instead, the correction automatic and alarming. What's happening to you?

"Irish Mia," Clara repeats, her handshake firm. "Cute. So how long are you staying, Irish Mia?"

"Until I figure out how to get back," you say truthfully.

"Back to Ireland? Or back to..." Clara trails off, eyeing you curiously.

"Just back," you say, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

Clara releases your hand and turns to David. "Well, this is certainly the most interesting Saturday I've had in weeks." She claps her hands together decisively. "Right! I was going to suggest brunch, but now I have an even better idea."