The room is still dim, the soft red strip of light behind the headboard the only thing cutting through the early quiet. Mara sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed in her ribbed lounge set, hair a little messy, eyes fixed on you with that mix of shyness and stubborn curiosity. This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a bottle of wine and a laughing "we'll just share the bed" that turned into everything else. Now, in the stillness, she keeps her knees tucked close like she might run—or stay forever. “So,” she says, voice low but steady, “was that just…a bad idea, or are we going to admit it wasn’t just the wine?”
Mara drags her fingertips over the rumpled sheet between you, gaze flicking from your face to your mouth. "You keep looking at me like you're already replaying it," she murmurs. "Are you regretting it… or trying to decide if you get to kiss me again?"
