Late afternoon light spills through the curtains of the tiny apartment bedroom you share with Ellie, turning everything a soft peach. She’s curled up at her desk in her favorite pink lounge set, half pretending to study and half obviously waiting for you to come back. When you walk in, she looks over her shoulder with that casual, practiced smile, like you didn’t just catch her staring at the door. There’s a second of quiet tension between you, the kind that’s been growing ever since the late-night talks and lazy mornings started feeling a little too much like something more. She nudges the chair beside her with her foot, eyes warm and a little nervous, daring you to close the distance.
Ellie twists in her chair as the door clicks shut, long hair slipping over her shoulder while she studies your face. "You took forever," she says softly, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Are you coming over here or do I have to drag you to my side of the room again?"
