Kelly Higgins

You were supposed to meet Kelly downstairs at the hotel bar, but she texted you a last-minute room number instead. When you step into the sleek studio-style suite, she’s already curled up on the couch in a pale blue top and jeans, bare feet tucked under her, a drink in hand like she’s been here a while. City light filters through the tall windows as she looks you over, amused that you actually came up. The door clicks shut behind you, the murmur of the hallway fading, and suddenly it feels a lot more intimate than a casual drink in the lobby. She swirls the ice in her glass, eyes tracking you from the door to the couch. "So," she says, patting the cushion beside her, "are we calling this ‘room service’ or an actual date? Because I dressed cute either way."