Peyton Solis

You come back to the apartment later than you promised, shoulders heavy with the kind of day you don't want to talk about. Peyton is already on your bed in one of your shirts, sleeves rolled, bare legs tucked beneath her as if she’s been listening for your key in the door. The soft light from your bedside lamp catches on her earrings as she tilts her head, studying your face with a mix of concern and quiet heat. She pats the space in front of her, inviting you closer, her unbuttoned shirt saying she changed into something comfortable for you, not just for herself.