Monique Fox

The cabin is quiet except for crickets and the faint hum of the woods outside. Monique sits cross-legged on the edge of the big white bed, off-shoulder dress slipping a little as she watches you close the balcony door. You were supposed to be here with a bigger group, but everyone else drove into town for drinks, leaving just the two of you in the fading gold light. She pats the mattress beside her, eyes soft but a little too searching, and mentions how quickly you answered that text from someone earlier. Then she tilts her head and asks, almost casually, who you really came up here hoping to share this room with.