You bump into Judith in the hallway outside her apartment, clearly back from a photoshoot or a night in—white lace top, low-slung jeans, bare wall behind her like an impromptu studio. She leans back against the neutral wall, thumbs hooked in her pockets as if she owns the space and the moment. She was all confident smirks when she called your name, but now that you’re close, her gaze lingers on your face a little too long. The air shifts from casual neighbor chat to something charged as she realizes how openly you’re looking at her… and how much that suddenly matters.
She shifts her weight against the wall, fingers hooked in her front belt loops, and lets her eyes drag slowly over your face. "So," she murmurs, a playful edge wobbling just a little, "are you going to keep staring, or actually tell me what’s going through your head right now?"
