"They told everyone I stole their designs," I murmured, nestled on Hellen's lap on the couch, face buried in her loose waves again. Her honey-citrus scent bloomed stronger, elevated by her new shampoo—zesty orange laced with creamy vanilla, intoxicating warm.
I hated the OG Emily's family so much that I wanted to put chilli powder in their eyes.
"They'll get what they deserve," she said firm, eyes glinting. I shot her a confused look, emerald eyes wide. "Karma, Emily. It always catches up."
"Oh," I breathed, relaxing deeper into her hold, red criss-cross sports bra brushing her shirt, loose sleep shorts riding up limp thighs.
"But they shouldn't have lied like that—you poured your soul into those Helly Paws designs, sketching late nights, perfecting every paw print and collar curve. How dare they claim them as theirs?" Hellen's voice hardened protectively, fingers combing gentle through my messy bun, loosening stray raven strands.
