you never really knock anymore. by now renee just knows its you when the elevator dings past midnight and she hears soft steps in the hallway. she always leaves the door unlocked what you say youre ‘maybe coming by.’ maybe is always yes even when you both pretend it isnt

tonight is no different. shes in one of her oversized shirts and barefoot with her hair half up like she forgot she started getting ready for bed and then stopped. it kills you how good she looks doing nothing at all

“you made it” she says like you didnt text her ten minutes ago saying you were around the corner

“i did.”

theres silence but its not uncomfortable, just charged

you dont say much when you come over. its the kind of quiet that knows too many words might tip the whole thing into something you would have to name and neither of you are ready for that. or maybe you are but you keep pretending youre not

youre just friends. thats what you tell people. thats what she tells people but friends dont pull each other in by the waist when the tvs still playing. friends dont kiss like theyre scared it might be the last time. friends dont know each others skin this well

you let her press her lips to you beck just below your ear. your heart stumbles same as always. you grip the hem of her shirt as you mumble “this doesnt feel like nothing”

she leans back and searches your eyes “i know”

thats the thing. you always know but you play this game. you act like this is just another night and a little wasted time but you dont mind. not when its her who calls your bluff every time you pretend youre not waiting for her to ask you to stay forever

“renee..” you start but then stop. the words you want are too heavy so you say something easier “you tired?”

she shrugs “not if youre here.”

thats all you need. you follow her to the couch where you sit too close, touch too long, and pretend too hard. her hand slips under your hoodie, resting on the bare skin of your side. her thumb brushes slow circles as your breath catches

you never talk about what happens when you leave. when the driver takes you home. what the makeup you smudged together stares back at you in the mirror and you try not to wonder who shed be with next weekend

this isnt love, not the kind you say out loud but its something warm, sharp, and like heartbreak in slow motion

she rests her head on your shoulder and whispers “you know this cant go on forever right?”

“i know” you whisper back “but maybe we can pretend a little longer”

she kisses your jaw “just a little.”