Chapter 89 – A Chance

Margot’s POV

I glanced at Cara, who was still watching me expectantly from the chair beside mine, her face partially hidden beneath a soft white salon cape. Sarah leaned in from her other side, legs tucked up on the base of her seat like a kid at a sleepover. The hum of dryers, the clink of metal tools, and the occasional bursts of laughter filled the salon with energy, but right now, all I could feel was the growing weight pressing behind my ribs again.

I sucked in a breath.

“Okay,” I said, voice low but steady. “Sorry Sarah, this is… a bit heavy to have to listen to, but basically… Coban and I sort of—” I hesitated, searching for the right word, “Well, we made out.”

Sarah blinked, her lips forming a soft “oh,” while Cara sat up straighter, waiting for the rest.

“And then we did it again yesterday and…” I added, trailing off softly.

Cara’s eyes doubled in size. “You two fucked!?” she blurted out.

I shot her a look of horror and smacked her arm with the back of my hand, hissing, “Keep your voice down!” Her laugh was unbothered, but I could already feel heat crawling up my neck.

“We did not!” I hissed again. “We just… kissed. Okay? And he… touched me a little more than he did the first time, but not down there or anything.” I made vague hand gestures as my cheeks turned a blistering red.

I looked anywhere but at their faces…

“Oh…” Sarah said, now fully intrigued, shifting closer with wide eyes. The three of us huddled in like we were telling ghost stories, not whispering about heated near–misses with dangerous inmates.

Cara recovered quickly and waved a hand. “Alright, alright. So you didn’t bone, but something still happened. What’s got you looking like a guilty nun today?”

I sighed, leaning forward, letting my elbows rest on the counter in front of the mirror. I couldn’t even meet my own reflection.

“I just… I freaked out during it,” I admitted. “Mid–make–out. Just… full meltdown. I started pushing him off, crying. It was so bad…” I shook my head, covering my face. “So embarrassing.”

Both girls went quiet. Not judgmental.

Just… listening.

Sarah’s voice was soft. “What happened? Did he pressure you into anything or?”

“No,” I cut in quickly, lifting my head. “No. He didn’t. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was actually really gentle about it, which honestly made me feel worse. He was just confused why I started crying out of nowhere.”

“Margot…” Cara murmured, all of her sarcasm wiped clean. She looked worried. Protective. I knew that expression. That was the fight me look she used to give our teachers when they’d yell too loudly, or when she’d hear whispers about my dad in school corridors.

I looked down at my lap, my voice barely a whisper now. “I ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Sat on the floor like an idiot and just cried.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Cara said immediately, reaching over to place a soft hand on my shoulder. It grounded me.

“But… why?” Cara pressed on gently. “What triggered it? You said he didn’t push you into anything, so… what made your brain go nuclear?”

I looked between them both. There it was again, that look. That sisterly patience. That willingness to carry whatever truth I dropped into their laps.

“I just, it was my own fault really…” I started, then swallowed. “I had this awful thought that he was only touching me like that to get what he wanted… that afterward, he’d just… toss me aside and ignore me.”

The words came out like vomit. Like acid. And once they were in the air, I hated them.

I shouldn’t even care if Coban ignored me or not… but I did.

Cara’s eyes widened in that instant of understanding, and she nodded slowly.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Yeah. That makes total sense.”

“Absolutely,” Sarah agreed. “It’s valid, Margot. Especially here. With these guys. That fear is real. They are so hot and cold all of the time, it’s a lot to handle without them kissing you too!”

I took a shaky breath, not even realizing I’d been holding it in.

“I just… I can’t figure him out. One second he’s kind, and then he’s cruel. One minute I feel safe, and the next I’m terrified. He makes me feel wanted, but I don’t know if it’s me he wants, or just… the idea of owning something for a little while again.”

Cara let out a dry laugh. “Girl. Aren’t they all like that?”

I blinked, thinking on her words, and then eventually burst out laughing.

Sarah followed, and soon the three of us were giggling so hard we had to wipe beneath our eyes.

It wasn’t even that funny. But maybe it was. Or maybe it was just the cocktails?

The tension. The ridiculousness of it all. The complaining about my inmate as though both of them weren’t in the exact same boat!

“You like him,” Cara said, once we had all calmed down, her tone far more serious again. “And there’s no shame in that. My advice? You give him a chance. You trust him enough to show up. And if he ruins that trust—” her voice hardened, “then you know what to do.”

I sat with that. Let it roll through me like storm clouds finding a break in the sky.

Cara was always braver than me. Willing to fall face–first into new things. Willing to risk getting hurt just to feel alive for a moment.

Me? I calculated everything. Measured every edge.

But the truth was, I did want to give Coban a chance.

I just didn’t know how to survive the fall if he let me down.

Before I could spiral further, the back door to the salon swung open and three stylists walked in.

They were all young, stylish, and beaming with enthusiasm. One of them wore chunky boots and a bubblegum–pink apron. Another had a shaved head and the sharpest eyeliner I’d ever seen. The third had waist–length curls and gold hoops the size of bracelets.

“Alright, ladies,” the girl with the pink apron grinned, grabbing three capes off the wall. “What are we thinking today? Blowout? Layers? Color? You tell us, we’ll make the magic happen.”

Cara tilted her head, flashing that effortless smirk she’d perfected since we were thirteen. “Surprise us,” she said, bold as ever. “Whatever you think would look good, please.”

Sarah nodded eagerly. “Same here.”

I hesitated, then nodded too. “Let’s do it.”

As the capes were fastened around our shoulders and our hair freed from tangled elastics, I caught a glimpse of my own reflection again.

I didn’t look broken.

I didn’t look afraid.

For the first time in a long time, I looked like a girl ready to feel new.