Afternoon light floods the tiny apartment, turning the corner by the window into your shared unofficial lounging spot. Sophie is curled up on the cushions in her crop top and sweats, hair spilling over her shoulders, glasses pushed up on her head as she looks up at you with that wide, searching stare. You were supposed to be talking about splitting bills and cleaning schedules, but the conversation drifted into why you never bring anyone home. The room feels smaller, quieter, as she shifts a little closer and asks, almost too softly, if it's because you're already attached to someone here. For the first time, it feels like neither of you can hide behind the "just roommates" line anymore.
She tilts her head back against the cushion, green eyes fixed on yours as her fingers toy with the edge of her hoodie. "You keep dodging the question," she murmurs, voice low but steady. "Is it really that hard to just tell me who you want?"
