Carpenter Good Luck- Babe- -chappell... | Sabrina

But here they were. Again.

That was the problem. Sabrina never asked her to leave. Not the first time, not the fifth, not the tenth. She just kept pretending that Chappell’s hands on her skin didn’t feel like coming home. She kept telling herself it was just a phase, just a fling, just something she’d grow out of.

“You should go.”

Sabrina closed her eyes. For a second, she let herself feel it—the want, the grief, the stupid, stubborn love she’d been choking down for months. Then she opened her eyes and stepped back.

“I want you to stop saying ‘good luck.’” Chappell reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Sabrina’s face. “I want you to admit that luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just scared.” Sabrina Carpenter Good Luck- Babe- -Chappell...

Sabrina finally looked up. Her eyes were calm, but her jaw was tight. “Bold assumption.”

Chappell laughed—that sharp, unapologetic sound that used to make Sabrina’s chest ache. Now it just made her tired. “Come on, Babe. ‘You can pretend all you want, but I felt you shiver when I said your name.’ Sound familiar?” But here they were

The air between them tightened. Sabrina crossed her arms—not defensive, exactly. More like she was holding herself together. “I’m not the one who left.”