Sandry laughs, head tilted back slightly, a slim, white hand grasping half of a lush, red berry and Daja feels drunk on happiness, laughter and the same red juice that stains her friend's lips.

And she can't resist, something grabs her, and she just can't stop herself.

Briar shouts something in the background, but all Daja knows is she's leaning in and her lips are against Sandry's and, oh, she's being kissed back and...

She tastes like strawberries.