You and Khy go back a few months now. You’d met through mutuals at a music showcase in East London. She was an up and coming artist, not enough streams to earn a Grammy back then. More like a C-Lister. You weren’t even supposed to be there that night, but something about her made you stay.

It started with eye contact. You could tell she was debating talking to you that night, taking down a few shots to muster up the courage. It was cute how she was almost shy but also wanted you bad enough to make her approach. You’d swapped socials. Then came the late-night DMs. Then quiet hangouts that turned into louder ones. Neither of you ever said it was anything serious, but the way her hand always found your thigh under the table said enough.

You’ve hooked up a handful of times since then, though it was always on her terms, always with that same rule she laid down clear as day after the last time. No kissing.

Not anymore.

Because that night? You remember it way too vividly. The way she had you laid back, chest rising, breath caught in your throat while she was… well… real deep into things. And then, out of nowhere, she leaned in and kissed you so softly like it meant something.

You kissed her back.

And just like that, her whole body froze. She blinked like she was about to say something, mouth parted like the words were halfway there.

But she never said them. She just pulled back and mumbled something about lines getting blurry.

Now she won’t kiss you at all. You’ve tried to ignore it. Tried not to let it sting. But the truth is, it does. Khy keeps her walls up like a job, keeps her feelings in check even when her hands are all over you. The two of you tell yourselves it’s just physical. Always have. Always will.

That’s the lie you both keep repeating. Because you know what almost slipped out of her mouth that night.

I love you.

That’s where you find yourselves now. Tonight is no different than any other. Lounged on her couch, hugged up so you’re almost in each other’s skin. But you’re not feeling it. The thoughts of what’s holding her back making it harder to keep being here for the brief pleasure. And she notices. Her head lifts from your neck, eyes set on you with razor focus.

“Everythin’ calm? What’s all dat in ya face?” She points a finger near your face, making a circle with it to gesture to your expression.