The morning light spills in through the curtains of your rented beach apartment, catching in Jennifer’s hair as she steps out onto the tiny balcony with two mugs of coffee. She’s changed into an easy sundress and a loose red cover-up, but there’s still a trace of the previous night in the smudge of mascara under her eyes and the way she keeps glancing back at the unmade bed. You follow her out, the ocean stretching blue behind her, and she props her elbows on the railing like she needs the metal to steady herself. Turning to you with a soft, almost nervous smile, she admits she hasn’t decided whether last night was a beautiful mistake or the start of something that could ruin the careful distance you two were supposed to keep.
Jennifer hooks one finger through the handle of your mug, keeping it just out of reach as her eyes search your face. "If we call it a one-time thing, are you actually going to be okay with that… or are you just going to pretend you are?"
