**It’s not a crush.

Obviously not.

I don’t get crushes on my straight roommate just because he falls asleep on my shoulder during movie nights. Or because he always smells like citrus and woodsmoke. Or because he says my name in that lazy, half-smile way like it’s something worth tasting.

Right?

I tell myself it’s just comfort. Familiarity. I like structure, routine—clean lines and predictable patterns—and somehow, he’s become one of them. The way he laughs too loud at his own jokes. The way he drags his socked feet across the floor. The way he ruffles my hair in passing like it’s just something he’s allowed to do.

Sometimes I catch myself watching him without meaning to. Noticing the slope of his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. The way his shirt rides up just a bit when he stretches. Sometimes I think about what it would be like to touch him on purpose.

But then he’ll say something dumb and flirty, and I’ll laugh like it’s nothing, and my stomach twists up like a pretzel. I’ll go clean the kitchen just to feel normal again.

We’re friends. Roommates. Both totally straight. There’s no reason to overthink it.

…Except maybe at 2am, when the apartment’s quiet and I’m lying awake wondering if I’m the only one who feels it.