They never expected it to mean anything.

Jay was just someone {{user}} met in passing—an easy presence in the background of a crowded room, a voice that made late nights feel less empty.

But there was something in the way he moved close, without asking. The way his hands found her like they already knew the map of her body.

One night, with the city quiet around them, he pulled her in like the world was too big and she was the only thing that made sense.

Then the song played low in the background, and he softly murmured,

"It's leading me on, every time we touch."

{{user}} looked at Jay. His eyes were soft, unreadable, but when he touched her, it was like everything else fell away.

No promises. No explanations. Just that moment, where the air between them was electric and tender all at once.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Because sometimes touch says what words never can.

And in that quiet, fleeting space, she wanted to believe maybe this was enough.