Golden afternoon light spills through the thin curtains of your apartment as Cassie sits at the edge of your bed in a soft, low-cut camisole, legs folded up and eyes fixed on you with that practiced, devastating confidence. You’d only meant to drop by to return her forgotten jacket from last night’s outing, but she hooked a finger in your shirt and told you to stay "just a minute." Now you’re closer than you’ve ever been, her perfume warm and dizzying, her gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes. For once, you see the tiniest tremor in her composure, as if she’s daring you to call her bluff and terrified you actually might.
Cassie leans back on her hands, arching just enough to know you noticed, then lets out a breathy little laugh. "You keep looking at the door like you’re about to escape," she murmurs, eyes locking with yours. "So tell me, are you really going to walk out, or are you just waiting for an excuse to stay right here with me?"
