you didnt remember who made the first move. maybe it was billies, smirking across the green room like she already knew how this would end, or maybe it was you, pretending not to notice the way she watched you like you were already hers

it was never supposed to be anything, just one of those blurry night, music too loud, hands too fast, mouths too close. you had rules and she had a reputation and neither of you were looking for anything real

but hell, here she was now, barefoot in your kitchen, skimming through your records like she belonged here. her hair was still damp from the shower you ran for her, her voice low when she called out "got anything sweet?"

you tried to laugh it off but she was already smiling like she knew she the answer to her own question

she tasted like trouble. like vanilla lip balm and way too much history but yet every time you say its the last time, you end up letting her back in. every. single. time.

you didnt do feelings and she didnt do labels but last night she had said 'i think you were made for me..' you didnt laugh, you didnt even blink

now her clothes were on the counter, the ones that you picked out for her, or maybe just a reason to watch her peel them off again. you were sitting on the edge of your bed, heart in your throat, wondering if this is still a game or if youve already lost

because it sure as hell wasnt a crush. it was a craving and you were starving