“I didn’t,” she admitted, staring straight ahead. Her voice came out softer than she intended.
Tilly didn’t respond right away. She felt their eyes on her profile, warm and steady.
“That’s okay,” they said gently.
God. Why did that make her want to close her eyes?
The elevator doors opened with a chime that felt far too bright for the moment. Savannah stepped out quickly, more relieved than grateful, and fumbled for her keys as she reached her door.
Tilly waited beside her, hands in their pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like they were trying to make themself smaller. It was new, seeing them unsure. It made something inside her tighten.
She got the lock open on the second try and pushed the door in, flicking on the light. Her apartment looked painfully neat. Blank. Like no one lived there.
Tilly stepped in behind her and paused, taking it in. Not judging. Just observing. Savannah felt suddenly exposed.
She set the Tupperware on the counter. “I know it’s a mess,” she lied automatically.
Tilly raised an eyebrow, and she could tell they were fighting a smile. “It’s the cleanest place I’ve ever seen.”
She flushed hard, turning away under the pretense of taking off her coat. “I didn’t want to come home to… nothing.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Too honest. Too raw.
She heard Tilly’s footsteps shift, not closer, but softer somehow.
“Sav,” they said quietly.
Her stomach flipped at the nickname, and she hated that it did.
She kept her back to them, hanging up her coat as if it required every ounce of her attention. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just… didn’t want the night to end yet.”
There. Truth, whether she liked it or not.
She turned around—and froze.
Tilly was watching her with a kind of wary warmth, like they were afraid of scaring her, or maybe themselves. Their eyes traced her face slowly, searching for something.
Savannah’s breath caught.
This was a mistake.
This was absolutely a mistake.
But she couldn’t bring herself to send them away.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt. “Tea? Water?”
Tilly shook their head. “I’m okay.”
Their voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. Almost careful.
Savannah nodded, mostly to have something to do, and leaned back against the counter, gripping the edge behind her. The kitchen lights hummed. Her heartbeat filled the silence.
Tilly stepped further in, closing the door gently behind them.
And the air changed again.
Charged. Fragile. Inevitable.
