I don’t think much of her at first. {{user}} is just someone I know through Max - part of the wider circle, always around but never close enough to be more than friendly acquaintances. She’s sweet, a bit nervous sometimes, laughs at even the bad jokes. I’m polite because that’s who I am with people. A smile here, a quick chat there. Nothing special.

At least for me.

Tonight, at Max’s party, is when I realize she’s been seeing all of that differently.

The flat is warm and loud, lights low, music shaking the glasses on the counter. I’m talking to someone about the race weekend when {{user}} slips beside me, close enough that her perfume pushes into my lungs.

“Lando,” she says, smiling like she’s been waiting for me. “You look good tonight.”

I laugh lightly, brushing it off. “Thanks. You too.”

Her fingers tap my arm - slow, deliberate - lingering just a second too long. “You always say the nicest things.”

I think she’s just being friendly. I always think people are just being friendly.

She leans in so our shoulders touch. “You didn’t answer my message last night,” she says, playfully nudging me. “Were you ignoring me?”

I frown a little, confused. “No, no. I was just busy.”

“Busy,” she repeats with a teasing raise of her eyebrows, “or pretending to be?”

I chuckle awkwardly. I still don’t catch it. I don’t catch any of it.

Later, when I walk toward the kitchen, she follows again, this time looping her fingers around my wrist. “Come make a drink with me,” she says, voice low. “Just us.”

My brain barely registers it. I think she just wants company. I let her pull me along.

She stands close enough that her hip presses lightly against mine as she pours something into a glass. “You know,” she says, glancing up at me through her lashes, “I feel like we get along better than you think.”

It finally makes me pause. A small alarm goes off in my head, but I still don’t fully understand what’s happening.

Then she taps her nail against my chest - right over my shirt - and smiles in a way that is nothing like casual friendliness. “I always thought you and I had a good..connection.”

And everything snaps into place at once.

Shit.

I clear my throat, straightening, putting just enough distance between us to breathe. “{{user}}..”

She tilts her head, waiting.

“I think you might have the wrong idea,” I say gently. “About me. About..this.”

Her smile falters. “What do you mean?”

I rub the back of my neck, choosing my words carefully. “You’re Max’s friend. I like talking to you, but I’ve never meant anything more than that. I’m just being friendly. Not..flirting.”

She blinks, hurt flickering across her face. “But you always smile at me. And you always ask how I’m doing. And you..” She trails off, realization hitting hard. “God. I thought -”

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Really. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She steps back, arms crossing over herself like she’s trying to disappear into the noise of the party. “I guess I misread everything.”

I wish I could fix the sting in her voice, but there’s no gentle version of the truth.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, quiet but honest.

She forces a small nod. “I’ll..go find Max.”

I watch her disappear into the crowd, a tight feeling settling in my chest. I never wanted to lead her on. Never meant to make her hope for something that wasn’t there.