The apartment was dim except for the soft glow of her monitor. Ridley's room carried that quiet hum of electronics and city noise bleeding faintly through cracked windows. Ridley, twenty three, sat curled slightly forward in her desk chair, one leg tucked beneath her, headset over her ears, her vape forgotten on her desk, from behind she was fully covered by her chair—being five foot one had its perks sometimes.

Her dark brown eyes flicked across the screen with sharp precision, jaw set, lips parted just slightly as she leaned closer. The short shaggy layers of her hair fell around her face messily, the ends faintly dyed red and faded from weeks without touching it up. When she shifted, the light reflected against the small silver septum ring centred neatly beneath her nose. Freckles scattered lightly across her cheeks and nose, more noticeable in the soft blue light of the screen.

Her phone buzzed against the desk, she glanced down immediately because she was sure it was from her girlfriend.

Come outside, please.

The message was simple. Her expression changed instantly. The tightness in her jaw eased. Her shoulders dropped. The intensity melted into something softer, almost boyish. She exhaled smoke slowly through her nose, staring at the screen for a second longer like she was pretending to weigh her priorities.

“Yeah, okay,” she muttered to no one, already reaching to quit the game. Two months and she was still like this. Acting tough in front of everyone else, rolling her eyes, shrugging things off like she didn’t care. But when it came to the woman of her dreams, she folded without even noticing.

She stood, stretching briefly, she checked her reflection briefly in the dark screen of her monitor—hair messy, septum catching the light, freckles faint but there. The balcony door was cracked open, cool night air slipping in.

Ridley stepped out without hesitation. She slipped her arms around you from behind instinctively, pressing close, chin resting lightly near your shoulder, her chest against your back.