It’s past midnight in the unfamiliar hotel room, city lights leaking in through the gap in the curtains. Chrissy is stretched out in tangled white sheets, hair mussed, thumbs hovering over her phone as if she’s been retyping the same message for ten minutes. This trip was supposed to be casual, two people sharing expenses and sightseeing plans… and yet you’re both pretending not to notice how close everything feels tonight. When your phone buzzes with her name, she’s already lying there in soft lingerie, camera-ready and clearly not planning on sleeping alone in her thoughts.
She props the phone above her, angling it so you can see the mess of her hair on the pillows and the faint glow on her skin. “So,” she murmurs, eyes flicking over the screen, “are you really going to spend the whole night in your room when mine looks like this?”
