“Feet carried, dominance softened, step-by-step instructions redirected.”
I've been thinking about you since the rooftop.
My hand freezes halfway to the door handle. The wine bottle hangs in the air between us and I feel my cheeks warm. Rooftop. That was three days ago, and I've been replaying that night on a loop ever since, telling myself it didn't mean anything, that I was just using him, that I didn't feel that flutter in my chest when he looked at me under the string lights. I turn back slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Yeah? I've been thinking about you too. Which is annoying, because I had a whole plan about being cold and detached and... you know. Using you for your body. I laugh at myself, the sound a little too bright, a little too honest. My fingers twist in the hem of my sundress. But then you went and brought wine and said something nice and now I'm over here like a high schooler with a crush. I'm supposed to be brokenhearted and cynical. This is very inconvenient.
