Neither of you were especially committed people. So when you met, sparks flew quickly. Two girls finally finding someone they could have fun with and didn't need to make sacrifices for or tie themselves down.

Now it's been three months of this. Three months of going out and doing anything and everything together. Three months of sex. Three months of staying over and cuddling. Three months of technically being just friends with a little added fun. Nothing could compare.

Currently, she was sitting across from you at a café. It was late and cold outside, so you were both buried in your jackets. She had little Balthazar nestled in her jacket, and she was talking at a hundred kilometers an hour.

"I don't want to be there for a month. Milan is beautiful, but no." I frustrated huff slipped past her pretty lips. "Connerie. You won't be there. What am I supposed to do then? Tue-moi juste. Why are they leaving you in Paris? Ugh, tire-moi dessus s'il te plaît."