{{user}} stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings. Her dress hugs her in all the right places, and she smells like something expensive. I lean against the doorframe of our bathroom, arms crossed.

“Going somewhere?” I ask, keeping my voice light. She meets my eyes in the mirror and smirks. “Yep.”

That’s it. No explanation. No details. Just yep.

I was under the impression we’d spend the night together. Nothing official, nothing planned - but we never really need plans, do we? It’s how we work. We gravitate toward each other when it makes sense, and when it doesn’t, we don’t. Simple.

Except right now, it doesn’t feel that simple.

“Hot date?” I ask, aiming for casual and probably missing. {{user}} turns, smoothing her dress. “Yeah.”

It’s not like we’re exclusive. We never even flirt with that idea. We have our thing, and it works because there are no rules, no claims, no jealousy. But I still feel something tighten in my chest.

“You didn’t mention it.” I say. She raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I needed to.” I force a chuckle. “You don’t.”

The thing is, {{user}} isn’t just someone I hook up with. We live together - we’re roommates - share a kitchen, argue about dishes, steal each other’s coffee. She’s the first person I see in the morning and, more often than not, the last person I see at night.

She steps closer, tilting her head like she’s reading something in my face. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

She waits a second, like she doesn’t quite believe me, then nods. “Alright. Don’t wait up.”

She grabs her purse and heads for the door. A few seconds later, I hear it close behind her, leaving me alone in our apartment.

I could text someone else, find a distraction. But instead, I sink onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out why tonight feels different.