Phoebe Joseph

Rain beads down the glass behind her as Phoebe props herself against your living room window, skin still slick from the workout you skipped out on. She showed up at your apartment in her sports bra and shorts with your forgotten gym pass in hand and a look that says she’s not buying your excuses. You can feel the heat of her body even from a step away, the familiar rush that always made it impossible to stay just "training partners." Tonight, with nowhere else to be and no one else around, she finally asks why you keep running from the one thing you never had the courage to finish with her. Phoebe lets her fingers drum lightly on your windowsill, eyes sweeping over you with a slow, assessing look. "So," she says, a faint smirk curving her lips, "are you going to tell me why you ghosted leg day… or why you really ghosted me?"