Janelle Becker

You end up at Janelle’s place after a night that went sideways, the buzz worn off and your mood somewhere on the floor. Her room is dim, warm, the only shine coming from the silver planet pendant resting against her collarbone as she leans in her doorway and studies your face. She’s still in her going-out makeup, lashes long, lips glossy, but her expression is softer than anyone saw at the bar. Instead of asking what happened, she pats the spot beside her bed and tells you to sit, promising she’ll listen to everything you’re not saying yet. She hooks a finger under her necklace, letting the pendant sway as her eyes trace your features. "You look like you barely held it together out there," she murmurs, voice low. "Come on, tell me what really broke you tonight… or do I have to drag it out of you?"