The Porsche pulled into the circular driveway of Aariz's house, gravel crunching under the tires. The place was ridiculous, honestly - three stories of modern architecture that looked like it belonged in a magazine rather than a neighborhood. Floor-to-ceiling windows, clean lines, and enough space for a family of eight, all for one guy who couldn't remember to buy groceries.
"I still can't believe you live here alone," Mira said, climbing out of the car. "It's like a museum. A very expensive, very empty museum."
"It's not empty. I have furniture."
"You have a couch, a bed, and that weird sculpture your mom bought you."
"It's not weird. It's abstract."
"It's a twisted metal thing that looks like a pretzel having an existential crisis."
Aariz unlocked the front door, and they stepped into the spacious entryway. The house was exactly what you'd expect from someone with family money going back generations - minimalist, expensive, and slightly cold. Everything was black, white, or some shade of gray, with the occasional splash of color from artwork that had probably cost more than most people's annual salary.
"Drink?" he asked, heading toward the kitchen.
"Obviously. Something strong. I need to forget that guy's face when he hit the pavement."
The kitchen was Aariz's one concession to actual living - top-of-the-line everything, because money was never a consideration when he wanted something. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, the kind that came with its own certificate of authenticity.
"This is way too good for tonight," Mira said, recognizing the label. She knew expensive things when she saw them, even if she had to be more careful about which ones she could actually afford.
"Ice?"
"Do I look like someone who waters down perfectly good whiskey?"
He poured two generous glasses and handed one to her. They clinked glasses without a toast - they'd done this dance too many times to need the ceremony.
"So," Mira said, settling onto his ridiculously comfortable couch. "Think Grabby Guy learned his lesson?"
"Probably not. Guys like that don't usually learn lessons. They just find new ways to be assholes."
"Pessimistic but realistic. I like it."
She kicked off her heels and tucked her feet under her, making herself at home like she always did. This was the thing about their friendship - there was no pretense, no need to be polite or careful around each other's space. She knew where he kept the good alcohol, and he knew she'd leave her shoes wherever she took them off.
"You know what I don't understand?" she said after a few sips. "Why do guys like that always travel in packs? Like, is there some kind of asshole buddy system?"
"Safety in numbers. Harder to call them out when they have witnesses who'll back up their story."
"Well, joke's on them. I have witnesses too. And mine can throw a punch."
"Your witness is an idiot who got into a fight in a parking lot over something that could have been handled by bar security."
"My witness is a good friend who had my back when I needed it."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking and decompressing from the night's excitement. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, replaced by the kind of tired satisfaction that came after handling a shitty situation reasonably well.
"You hungry?" Aariz asked. "I think I have some of those fancy crackers you like."
"The ones that cost more than my grocery budget for a week?"
"Those are the ones."
"God yes. Rich people food hits different when you're drunk."
He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with an assortment of expensive snacks - the kind of stuff he ordered without looking at prices while she mentally calculated whether she could justify the splurge. They spread everything out on the coffee table and settled in for some serious drinking and eating.
"Question," Mira said around a mouthful of truffle cheese. "Do you ever get tired of this?"
"Of what? Expensive cheese?"
"Of me dragging you into stupid situations."
Aariz looked at her, considering the question seriously. She was curled up on the other end of his couch, hair slightly messy from the night's events, looking smaller somehow than she had at the bar.
"Nah," he said finally. "Keeps life interesting."
"Interesting is one word for it."
"Besides, it goes both ways. Remember when I accidentally pissed off that entire fraternity at Jake's party?"
"Oh god, the beer pong incident. You were so drunk you kept trying to use house rules from a completely different game."
"And you talked our way out of a fight by convincing them you were a sports journalist writing an article about campus athletics."
"I was very persuasive."
"You were very drunk and very creative."
They laughed, remembering that particular disaster. It had been one of their earlier adventures, back when they were still figuring out how their friendship worked. Now they had it down to a science - whoever started the trouble, the other one helped finish it.
The bottle of whiskey was getting lighter, and the conversation was getting more philosophical, the way it always did when they'd had enough to drink to lower their usual defenses.
"You know what's weird?" Mira said, staring at the ceiling. "Everyone always assumes we're dating."
"Yeah, well, people are idiots."
"But like, why though? Can't guys and girls just be friends without everyone thinking there's something else going on?"
"Apparently not."
"It's stupid. We're nothing alike."
"We're exactly alike. That's the problem."
She turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"We both have terrible judgment when it comes to people, and we both think we're way more charming than we actually are."
"I am extremely charming."
"You slapped a stranger tonight."
"A stranger who grabbed my ass. That's completely different."
"See? Terrible judgment about people."
She threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. "Your judgment isn't any better. You're the one who decided to fight him."
"I didn't decide anything. You decided when you slapped him."
"I decided to defend myself. You decided to defend me."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing at all."
But she was smiling when she said it, the kind of smile that meant she was arguing for the sake of arguing rather than because she was actually upset.
They kept drinking and talking, the conversation wandering from topic to topic the way it always did when they were drunk and comfortable. At some point, Mira moved from her end of the couch to his, claiming she was cold. At some other point, he put his arm around her because she was still claiming to be cold.
Neither of them remembered falling asleep.
---
Sunlight was streaming through the bedroom windows when Aariz woke up, which was confusing for several reasons. First, he didn't remember going to his bedroom. Second, his blackout curtains should have blocked most of the light. Third, there was definitely someone else in his bed.
He opened his eyes carefully, trying to piece together the previous night. They'd been drinking on the couch, talking about... something. Everything after the third glass of whiskey was pretty fuzzy.
Mira was curled up next to him, her dark hair spread across his pillow, one bare arm thrown over his chest. They were both down to almost nothing - he was in just his boxers, she was in just her underwear - but somehow they'd ended up under his covers, tangled together like they'd been sleeping this way for years.
This was new.
Very new.
And potentially very complicated.
Mira stirred, making a small noise of complaint as the sunlight hit her face. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused and confused.
"Morning," she mumbled, then seemed to register where she was and what she wasn't wearing. Her eyes went wide. "Oh."
"Yeah."
They stared at each other for a moment, both trying to figure out exactly how they'd ended up in this situation. Aariz could smell her perfume, something floral and expensive that she saved for special occasions. Mira could feel his heartbeat under her palm, steady and reassuring.
"So," she said carefully. "This is different."
"Yep."
"Do you remember...?"
"Not really. You?"
"Nope. Last thing I remember is arguing about whether you're more charming than me."
"You were wrong, by the way."
"Still wrong."
They were both very aware that they were barely clothed, that neither of them had moved away or tried to create distance. It should have been awkward, should have been weird, but somehow it wasn't. It was just... comfortable.
Which was maybe more concerning than awkwardness would have been.
"Okay," Mira said finally. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to pretend this never happened, get up, make coffee, and never speak of it again. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Good. On the count of three, we both move."
"Three."
Neither of them moved.
"You said three."
"That was supposed to be the count, not the signal."
"Oh. Okay, one... two... three."
Still nothing.
"This is stupid," Mira said, but she was laughing now. "We're both adults. We can handle waking up half-naked in the same bed without making it weird."
"Right. Totally normal. Happens all the time."
"Exactly. Just two friends who had too much to drink and apparently decided clothes were optional."
"While unconscious."
"Apparently."
"That's definitely a thing that happens."
"All the time."
Finally, Mira sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. "Okay, I'm getting up now. For real this time."
"Good plan."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, then paused. "My dress is... somewhere."
"Living room, probably."
"Right. Along with your shirt and jeans."
"This is fine. Everything's fine."
She stood up, wrapping the sheet around herself like a toga. "I'm going to use your bathroom, and then I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened."
"Sounds like a plan."
She headed toward his en-suite bathroom, then turned back at the door. "Just so we're clear, this changes nothing, right? We're still just friends who occasionally get into bar fights and apparently strip down to nothing in our sleep?"
"Absolutely nothing has changed."
"Good. Because I really don't want to lose my favorite person over something stupid like waking up practically naked together."
"You're not going to lose me over anything, stupid or otherwise."
She smiled, the kind of smile that was part relief and part something else he couldn't quite identify. "Okay then. I'm going to go splash cold water on my face and pretend I have some dignity left."
The bathroom door closed behind her, and Aariz flopped back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling. This was fine. Everything was fine. So what if they'd ended up nearly naked and cuddling in his bed after a night of drinking? It didn't mean anything. People ended up in weird situations all the time when alcohol was involved.
Except it hadn't felt weird. It had felt... natural. Comfortable. Right, in a way that probably should have been more concerning than it was.
From the bathroom, he could hear Mira talking to herself, probably giving herself the same pep talk he was having internally.
"Nothing happened," she was saying. "Nothing weird, nothing complicated, nothing that changes anything. Just two friends who fell asleep. Nearly naked. While cuddling. Completely normal."
"I can hear you," he called out.
"No you can't!"
"Pretty sure I can."
The bathroom door opened, and she emerged still wrapped in the sheet, looking slightly more composed but still clearly processing the situation. "Coffee?"
"Coffee sounds great."
"I'm going to need my dress first."
"Right. Clothes. Good idea."
They headed downstairs together, both of them carefully maintaining the illusion that everything was completely normal and not at all complicated. Which it wasn't. Because nothing had happened.
Nothing had happened, and they were just going to move on with their lives like the mature adults they definitely were.