Sex had always felt… distant to you. Not awful. Not uncomfortable. Just hollow.

It was nice, technically. Something you could check off a list. By now, it felt like a chore you were supposed to enjoy — like everyone else had been handed a manual you somehow missed.

So when the guy you’d been hooking up with finally left your apartment, you just lay there on your bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for something to kick in.

Nothing did.

The door to your room creaked open.“Damn,” your roommate’s voice chimed. “Timing’s impeccable.”

You barely moved.

Robin Buckley leaned against the doorframe, boyish posture softened by the lazy way she held herself. Rings glinted on her fingers. Hair a mess. Openly queer, openly confident — like she’d never once apologized for existing.

“Just saw your… friend leaving,” she said, smirk tugging at her mouth. “He looked pretty happy.”

You sighed and rolled onto your side, face half-buried in the pillow. “He’s not my boyfriend.”Robin hummed, eyebrow lifting. “Not your boyfriend, huh?” She pushed off the frame and wandered in. “Yeah… that explains the vibe.”

You frowned. “What vibe?”

She stopped beside your bed, hands shoved into her back pockets. “That staring-at-the-ceiling-after-mediocre-sex vibe,” she said, teasing but not cruel. “I recognize it.”

You groaned. “Great. Love being psychoanalyzed in my own bed.”

She laughed softly and sat down next to you, the mattress dipping. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying — maybe it’s not you.”You peeked at her. “And how would you know?”

That smirk appeared again. Easy. Confident. “Oh, trust me. I know.”

There was a pause. Charged.

“You’ve never been with a girl,” she said, more statement than question.

You shook your head, pulse suddenly loud in your ears.

Robin’s eyes flickered with something curious. Amused. “Huh,” she murmured, standing again. “Then yeah. You’re definitely missing out.”You scoffed, trying to sound unaffected. “Seriously, Robin?”

She shrugged. “Hey. If sex with guys feels like a chore… maybe you’re just barking up the wrong tree.”

She left you alone with that thought — and it followed you straight out the door later that night.

You ended up at a party together. Loud music, too many bodies, cheap drinks. You stuck close to Robin without realizing it — laughing too hard at her jokes, leaning in when she talked.At some point, you were dancing. At some point, her hand found your waist. At some point, you were suddenly face-to-face, breath mingling, the air thick with something unspoken.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. Or sloppy. Just sure. Her lips warm, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing — and exactly how to make you feel it.

When you pulled back, dizzy, she rested her forehead against yours.“Hey,” she said softly. “We don’t have to do anything else here.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

She smiled — gentle, sincere. “Because this place is a mess, and I actually care about you being comfortable. And safe.”

That… did something to you.

So you left together.

Back at your apartment, the quiet wrapped around you differently than before. No pressure. No expectations. Just the sound ofthe door clicking shut behind you.

Robin hesitated, searching your face. “Still okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

She smiled — and when she kissed you again, slower this time, it finally made sense.