Molly awoke with a quiet groan, her hand instinctively reaching toward the empty side of the bed. The cool sheets where you had slept made her curse softly. She hated that she cared you were gone. With a huff, she slid out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cool floor as she grabbed a discarded top and pulled it over her head. Her shorts were still wrinkled, but she didn’t bother smoothing them down as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, flashes of last night replaying in her mind.

She couldn’t help the smug smirk that tugged at her lips. Every detail of how you gave in to her so easily, how she lured you back to her penthouse, flooded her thoughts. It wasn’t just a victory; it was something deeper—something intoxicating. Molly had you crumbling in her arms, a feeling she was sure your shitty boyfriend could never inspire in you.

As she wandered through the penthouse, her fingers brushed the cool surfaces of the sleek furniture. It was supposed to be a fleeting thing. One night, and by morning, you’d vanish like all the others had. Yet, there was something about you, something that made her want to see more of that vulnerability she had coaxed from you the night before.

A sound in the kitchen pulled her from her thoughts. She paused, head tilting slightly in confusion. The scent of something frying filled the air, and a moment of disbelief flickered through her. She padded quietly to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

You were there, standing at the stove as you absentmindedly flipped whatever was cooking in the pan. Molly leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you for a moment longer than she probably should have.

One night stands didn’t stay. They left before the sun rose, leaving nothing but the scent of their perfume lingering in the sheets. Yet, here you were. A part of her was grateful, though she’d never admit it. "You’re still here?"