And that always, always leads to something more.
But we never talk about what itis.
She calls it fun.
She calls it casual.
I call it whatever keeps her close. We don’t need labels.
4. Sneaking into her building
Well, it’s not exactlysneaking,because the doorman knows me by now.
I don’t think he knows the situation, but I know he’s guessed at least part of it.
It’s fun to be a little sneaky, though.
He always smirks when he lets me up.
Some nights I bring food.
Some nights she opens the door wearing nothing but a robe.
Some nights she pulls me inside before I can even say hello.
I tell myself I’m cool with this, and that I don’t want more.
But every time I leave before sunrise, I feel it a strange ache in my ribs.
The one that feels like longing.
5. And then? Tonight.
We’re at her place again.
The lighting is warm, and the candles are lit.
Her hair is messy from the couch, and her cheeks are pink.
We’re lying tangled in her sheets, breathing in sync, her hand resting on my chest like she owns the oxygen supply in my lungs.
I could stay like this forever.
Her phone buzzes.
She reaches over lazily, glances at the screen, then snorts.
“Harper,” she says.
Her best friend.
The one who is onto the fact that she’s seeing someone. But Elena told her she’s dating someone “age appropriate,” and that her younger trainer thing was “just a crush that never materialized.”
I try to sound relaxed. “What’s she want?”
Elena reads it aloud:
“Me and some of the girls are getting drinks at The Aurora. You should come.”
