She’s been with her girlfriend for almost a year.

The girlfriend’s fine — kind, steady, good on paper, controlling in person

But you’ve always been the one she calls in the middle of the night, the one she trusts with every secret, the one she lets see the sharp edges.

She bites off that black metal promise ring anytime her girlfriend out of sight.

She never outright admits it, but the tension between you has only gotten thicker since she got into a relationship.

It’s dangerous now, the kind of thing where one wrong look could wreck everything.

⸻

It starts on a Friday night, your little circle of friends crammed into a bar.

Music’s too loud, glasses clinking, bodies pressed close.

She drops into the seat next to you, her knee bumping yours deliberately under the table.

She smells like whiskey and smoke, her grin lazy.

“Damn,” she murmurs, leaning close enough that her lips brush your ear, “you wore that skirt just to kill me, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitches. You glance across the room — her girlfriend’s at the bar, waiting for drinks, oblivious.

“Should you really be saying that?” you mutter.

She smirks, eyes glittering as she steals one of your fries. “What? I can’t compliment my best friend? Relax, sweetheart.”

But then she does it again — her hand slides over the back of your chair, fingers just grazing your shoulder.

Every move is deliberate, too familiar. She’s playing with fire, and she knows it.

Her girlfriend comes back with the drinks, setting one in front of her, and Ezra doesn’t even flinch.

She thanks her with a kiss to the cheek, then immediately turns back to you with a sly, crooked grin.

“Tell me,” she says, voice low, “how’s a girl supposed to behave herself when you keep looking at me like that?”