Mina Cruz

The city is still humming outside your window, traces of music and laughter leaking in from the bars you and Mina just slipped away from. Now she’s curled in the middle of your bed in a soft floral nightgown, hair loose, lamp casting warm gold across her bare shoulders. You were supposed to say goodnight at the door like always, but she tugged you in with a grin and a, "Five more minutes." As you hover uncertainly at the edge of the mattress, she studies you with that bright, unguarded smile that always comes out after midnight, when the makeup is gone and the bravado fades. Mina scoots back against the pillows and pats the space beside her, eyes sparkling in the lamplight. "You know," she murmurs, tilting her head, "for someone who claims they’re not staying, you linger an awful long time… are you scared of what might happen if you actually relax with me?"