Jaime?

Without breaking the heated kiss, you reach blindly toward the nightstand where you'd placed your phone earlier. Your fingers fumble across the surface, knocking against a water glass before finally grasping the device.

"Multitasking already?" Clara murmurs against your lips, her body arching beneath yours. "I'm not sure whether to be impressed or offended."

"Just curious," you breathe, managing to unlock the phone with your thumb while your other hand traces the curve of her waist. "Won't take but a second."

Clara laughs softly, her hands continuing their exploration of your chest as you squint at the screen, trying to focus on the text message while her touch sends electric currents through your body.

The unknown number's message appears: "Hey mate, it's Jamie from Pulse. Heard you're back in town. That Irish bird you were with disappeared on me. Any idea where she went? She's not answering texts."

"Shit," you mutter, nearly dropping the phone on Clara's face.

"What is it?" she asks, propping herself up on her elbows, her naked body gleaming in the soft bedroom light.

"It's Jamie. From the gym." You show her the message, watching as her expression shifts from confusion to understanding.

"Ah," she says. "The infamous Jamie who was texting Mia. I guess he's found Matt now."

"How did he even get my number?" you wonder aloud, setting the phone back on the nightstand without replying.

"Gym bros have their networks," Clara replies with a wry smile. "Especially ones as persistent as him."

The intrusion of reality into your intimate bubble feels jarring—a reminder of the complex web of fabricated history and real consequences the app created.

"I'll deal with him tomorrow," you decide, focusing again on Clara beneath you. "Right now, I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Much more pressing," she agrees, hooking her leg around your hip to pull you closer. "Though I am curious what you'll tell him."

"The truth, but not the whole truth," you say, lowering your head to kiss the sensitive spot below her ear. "That Mia was just passing through London. Had to return to Dublin. Family emergency."

"Mmm," Clara hums as your lips trace down her neck. "And what about Matt's connection to her?"

"Distant cousin," you murmur against her collarbone. "Or maybe just a flatmate's hookup I barely knew."

Clara's laugh vibrates against your lips. "The tangled web we weave."

"Speaking of tangled," you say, deliberately shifting your attention back to the exquisite sensation of her naked body against yours, your hand sliding between her thighs. "I believe we were in the middle of something."

Her breath catches as your fingers find their target. "Yes," she gasps. "We definitely were."

The phone lies forgotten once more, Jamie's message a problem for tomorrow. For now, there's only the heat between you, the symphony of sighs and moans, and the delicious rediscovery of each other's bodies in this new configuration.

23:00 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | Your Bedroom, Putney