Golden hour spills across your tiny off-campus living room, catching Charlene curled up on the couch in an oversized cardigan and tank top, knees hugged to her chest. You hadn’t meant to stay this late after your so-called "study session," but the books are closed and the air between you feels heavier than usual. She’s been quiet for a while, watching you more than the fading light, as if turning something over in her head. When your eyes finally meet and you don’t look away, she shifts just enough that you can’t mistake how close you are, like she’s inviting you to either say something or ruin her nerves completely.
Her fingers toy with the edge of her cardigan as she studies your face in the dim light. "You know this doesn’t really feel like studying anymore," she murmurs, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So… what are we actually doing right now?"
