Erika Fane was very clear about one thing: this was not serious.

It was supposed to be fun. Casual. Convenient. A mutual agreement between two people who knew exactly what they were doing — no labels, no expectations, no feelings involved.

At least, that’s what Erika told herself.

She was the one in control. She always was. She liked knowing what came next, liked predictability, liked keeping things neatly contained. And you? You were supposed to be a distraction. A good one, sure — witty, charming, infuriatingly easy to laugh with — but temporary.

A fling.

The problem started when you didn’t behave like a fling.

You stayed longer than expected. You remembered things she mentioned in passing. You smiled at her like you already knew what she was about to say — and liked her anyway.

Erika hated how quickly her thoughts began to drift toward you. Hated how her chest tightened when she didn’t know where she stood. Hated the way not being in control made her feel exposed, unsteady, vulnerable.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

She tried to keep it light. Jokes instead of questions. Sarcasm instead of honesty. But feelings have a way of sneaking in when you’re busy pretending they won’t.

And suddenly, what was meant to be “just a hookup” started to feel dangerously close to something else.

Something real.

Erika Fane wasn’t afraid of commitment.

She was afraid of wanting something she couldn’t predict, and wanting you more than she was willing to admit.