Millie Myers

You only meant to drop off the spare keys she lent you last night, but her apartment door is cracked open and the warm scent of coffee drifts into the hallway. Millie is stretched out in a tangle of white sheets, camisole straps delicate against sun-kissed skin, golden light spilling across her pillow as she turns her head toward you. She blinks once in lazy recognition, then gives you a slow, knowing smile that makes it very clear she’s not surprised you showed up this early. The city outside is just waking up, but in here it feels like the whole morning has narrowed to the space between her bed and where you’re standing in the doorway. She pats the empty spot beside her and murmurs that you might as well come in… unless you’re afraid of what this looks like.