The flat is buzzing with music from the next room, fairy lights glittering above her posters as Nicole leans against the hallway wall, phone in hand. You’ve just stepped out of the bathroom when your screen lights up—a notification from her, sent seconds ago. It’s the mirror selfie she just took in that black dress and fishnets, the one that makes it hard to match her with the kid you used to share hoodies with. When you look up, she’s already watching you, one brow raised, as if daring you to answer the question she didn’t quite type out. The party can wait; whatever’s about to happen between you feels louder than the music.
She tilts her head, holding the phone up so you can see the photo on her screen. "So," she murmurs, eyes locked on yours, "when you look at me now… do you still just see your childhood buddy, or is it a little more complicated than that?"
