I huff a laugh that sounds steadier than I feel. “Careful. That’s a hot button to press.”
Our eyes meet and the air between us shifts—buzzing, electric.
I’m aware of every inch of space she’s not occupying.
We work in a soft, charged quiet, both silently agreeing to pretend the moment wasn’t intimate while also very much not forgetting it was.
She leans in to add a banner over the drawbridge. “I really did need this. It’s relaxing.”
“Good, I’m glad,” I say, clearing my throat because it comes out rough. “We do another round tomorrow? Banquet hall.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Sure. Maybe.”
Cool.
poppy
. . .
His bedroom door is open and I hesitate, afraid to approach.
Hovering in the hallway like a total creeper, I stare at the golden slice of light spilling from his cracked door—the soft glow of accent lamps casting shadows across the hardwood floor. I can hear the low hum of music drifting through the air.
My palm flattens against the doorframe.
“Breathe. You’ve seen this man’s O-face. You can handle walking into his room.”
I knock lightly—more of a courtesy tap, honestly—because the doorisajar, and if we’re going by roommate code, that’s basically aWelcome Mat. I do not want a repeat performance of last night.
I whisper to myself, “Please don’t be naked. Please don’t be naked,” as I push the door open a tad bit wider.
Turner is very muchnotnaked, thank god.
He’s lounging across his bed, one knee bent, back propped against a pillow, scrolling on his phone with a faint crease between his brows.
His thumb pauses when he hears me.
“Hey, roomie,” I say, trying to like I hadn’t stood and watched this man’s soul leave his body pre-orgasm less than twenty-four hours ago.
His gaze lifts, and his whole face softens. “Hey you.”
No awkwardness. So far, so good…
Just the quiet steadiness he always seems to carry. It’s nice. I’ve noticed Turner isn’t a chaotic person. He’s not all big emotions and drama and loud bellowing like some dudes.
He’s the guy who offers to help carry groceries before you even open the trunk. He’s quiet, but not cold. Chill, but not passive.
A walking exhale.
“You busy?”
“Naw. Not really.” He sets his phone down on the mattress. “I’m just…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, lips pressing together.
“Want to watch a movie?” I blurt out, since that’s the reason I came looking for him. The house is quiet, and I find that I don’t necessarily want to spend the evening alone, even in the living room.
Probably because this saturation is so new. And normally I would FaceTime Nova but now we’re in the same city, and now she has a roommate, too.
They’re probably screwing, that lucky bitch.
