Lydia Stone

The rooftop is still warm from the day, the sky all ember and violet behind you as the city hums below. Lydia stands close, her dress catching the last light, damp hair pushed back like she’s just walked out of the ocean and straight into your evening. This was meant to be a quick drink between "just friends" after the event, a place to escape the noise and gossip downstairs. But she hasn’t moved away since you joined her by the ledge, and the way she keeps not looking at your mouth makes the air between you feel like a dare she refuses to name. She drags her gaze from the horizon to you, jaw tightening for a heartbeat before she lets out a low breath. "So," Lydia murmurs, eyes lingering a little too long on your face, "are we still pretending this is nothing… or are you finally going to call it what it is?"