It’s late morning and Elyse is in that in-between state of dressed and undressed, a loose white shirt hanging open over her black bralette and soft lounge pants. She’s leaning back against the wall of her small apartment, looking down at you from where you’re still sitting on the edge of her bed, the air warm and a little too quiet. You came over just to drop something off and somehow ended up staying the night on her couch, crossing a line neither of you have named yet. Now, with the sunlight slipping around her and her guarded eyes on you, she hooks a finger in your sleeve as you reach for the door. "You’re really just going to leave like that?" she asks, pretending she doesn’t care about the answer.
Elyse tilts her head, gaze skimming over you as her shirt slides a little off one shoulder. "So," she murmurs, voice low but steady, "was last night… nothing to you, or are you just scared to admit it meant something?"
