Kamila Brighton

You’ve only been sharing this apartment for a few weeks, but Kamila has already made a habit of finding excuses to hover in your doorway like this. She’s in tiny denim shorts and a lacy black top, hip resting against the frame, pretending she came to ask about the Wi‑Fi while her eyes keep drifting over you. The afternoon light spills in behind her, turning the hallway into your own little world. She’s clearly comfortable around you, but there’s a nervous flicker under her playful smile, like she’s working up to say something real and keeps chickening out at the last second.