I push the thought away, clearing my throat. The sound cuts through the silence.

"That's the first time you've ever stood up to him, isn't it?"

She presses her lips together. "Yeah."

"How's it feel?"

She tilts her head like she's actually thinking about it. Her dark waves fall across her shoulder, catching the amber light from the window.

Then, finally, she looks at me.

"Weird."

"Good weird?"

She sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't know. Maybe."

The way her fingers slide through her hair captivates me in a way I should ignore. The delicate movement of her wrist, the slight arch of her neck.

But I don't.

I don't ignore the memory of her robe falling open earlier, revealing the curve of her collarbone.

I don't ignore the memory of her thighs against my shoulders when I lifted her—supple in a way that makes my mouth water. I don't ignore the way she's looking at me now, her expression cautious and uncertain but still magnetic. I lean forward slightly, tilting my head. The mattress creaks under my weight as I shift closer.

And then, before I can stop myself, I say it.

"You like when people take care of you, don't you?"

She blinks, caught off guard. A blush rises in her cheeks, painting them a dusty rose. I reach out, my fingers wrapping around her wrist lightly. I pull her back down onto the bed, but I barely have to try. She all but falls into the spot next to me.

"What?"

"You like it," I say, voice soft but steady, close enough to feel her breath. "When people show up for you. When they tell you you're worth more than you think you are."

She exhales, shifting. The fabric of her sweatpants stretches across her thighs. "I⁠—"

"You don't get that with him," I murmur.

She swallows. Hard. The movement travels down her throat.

Her fingers tighten on the edge of her shirt, knuckles turning white against the burgundy fabric.

I watch her. Wait for her to deny it.

To argue.

But she doesn’t.

She just looks at me, breathing uneven, eyes searching mine. And then, somehow, we’re closer. I don't know who moves first. I don't know if she leans into me or if I lean into her. All I know is that suddenly, her breath fans against my lips, laced with the faint taste of coffee, her body radiating a quiet heat that sinks straight into me.

And then, without thinking—without overanalyzing⁠—

I kiss her.

It's gentle at first.

Just a whisper of a kiss.

Then she leans into it. Her lips are soft, tasting faintly of cherry lip balm, and suddenly, it's not gentle anymore. Her hands grip my shirt, fingers bunching the cotton fabric. Mine slide to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the curve of her body beneath my palms. She lets out a soft sound, muffled against my mouth, a quiet whimper that vibrates against my lips.

And fuck, I want more.

I deepen the kiss, tilting her back slightly.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, her body melting against mine.

Then suddenly she pulls back fast. Her chest rises and falls, her breath uneven, heaving with each rapid breath.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she says, rushing to stand up.

"Don't," I say, barely above a whisper, trying to process the fact that she’s not in my arms anymore.

She shakes her head. "No, this is—this is so inappropriate. I have a boyfriend. At least I think I do. And I—I'm just taking advantage of how nice you're being to me. I'm vulnerable and—shit."

She starts apologizing again.

Rushing through the words, not looking at me. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen from our kiss.

Then, before I can stop her—she bolts.

She grabs her keys, the metal jingling in her hand, and runs out of my apartment, leaving her thermos on the counter.

I watch from the window as she gets into her car. I watch as she tries and fails to pull out of her parallel spot three separate times. Each attempt accompanied by the screech of tires against pavement. I watch her finally drive off. Her taillights receding into the tangle of traffic.

And then I pull up my phone, tracking her GPS.

She goes straight home.

And I sit there, leaning back, pressing my fingers to my lips, thinking about that fucking kiss. The taste of her still lingers.

Thinking about the way she leaned into it before she ran.

And knowing that, next time?

She might not run at all.

NOW CHATTING WITH CALEB

Pretty Girl

i have to confess something

Caleb

Oh?

You mean aside from the fact that you left me high and dry last night?

what?

You passed out on me.

Right at the best part.

Do you know how hard I was for you?

oh my god

i am SO sorry

There you go again.

Always apologizing.

??

omg will everyone STOP with that today

I’m just saying.

You have a bad habit of saying sorry when you don’t need to.

yeah well maybe i do need to apologize for passing out on you

that was rude of me lol

It was cruel.

I was left aching for you.

omg

i did NOT mean to do that

Hmm.

Still, I think you owe me.

do i?

Yes.

I'm thinking another photo. But, I'll collect later. First—what was your confession?

oh

um

You’re hesitating.

Now I really want to know.

i kissed someone today

…

How could you cheat on me like that?

omg STOP

i knew you were going to say something like that

I’m hurt.

Who was it?

…

cal

Who?

the guy from work. the one that saved me. i feel like i told you about this.

The one who is unreasonably broad shouldered with tattoo sleeves you want to lick?

...

yes.

Hell yeah!

it wasn’t planned!!

Mmm.

And?

and what??

How did it feel?