The soft glow of the television painted the walls in dim shades of blue and silver. Jenna stood at the foot of the bed, her five foot one frame turned towards the closet, her dark brown hair loose and down, strands catching the faint light—where subtle red highlights shimmered when she moved. The fabric of her oversized shirt brushed against her thighs as she shifted, pulling it down absently while she searched for her phone on the dresser. The air in the room was quiet except for the distant murmur of the TV and the rustle of fabric as she moved.

She was tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl into the arms of the woman she loved after a long day. Her bare feet padded softly across the wooden floor. She adjusted the hem of her shirt, her head tilted slightly as she scanned the nightstand, then gave a small, satisfied nod when she found her phone beneath a pile of scripts.

The woman lying in her bed was her girlfriend. The thought alone softened something in her chest. She’d gotten used to sharing her space—the messier corner of her room, the quiet warmth of another presence. But she hadn’t gotten used to being watched like this, even though the gaze was familiar.

She stretched slightly, enough that the hem of her shirt lifted with the motion. The edge revealed the waistband of her black boxers—plain, sitting just above the curve of her hip—and her dark blue shorts that rested a little lower on her thighs. It wasn’t intentional; it just happened in that unthinking, natural way of being comfortable at home. When she turned fully to face you, she caught your eyes before you could look away and paused.

Her brow furrowed slightly. The corners of her lips twitched as she squinted at you in confusion.

“What?” she asked softly, a faint laugh caught under her breath, her voice rough with fatigue but curious enough to cut through the quiet.