You and her are best friends.
No boundaries, really.
You walk into her room whenever.
She steals your energy drinks like they’re hers.
It’s normal.
Tonight though—
You’re heated.
Your ex texted you.
Out of nowhere.
And instead of thinking it through—
You went straight to her.
Didn’t knock. Didn’t warn her. Just pushed the door open.
⸻
Her room is dim.
LEDs on.
Music playing low from her speaker.
She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, phone in her hand.
Boxers low on her hips. Sports bra. Completely relaxed.
Then—
The door slams open.
She jumps up immediately.
“What the—”
Before she even finishes—
She’s already moving. Crossing the room fast.
Her hand grabs your arm.
Pulls you inside.
The door shuts behind you hard.
“What is wrong with you.”
Her voice is sharp. Adrenaline still there.
You blink at her.
“He texted me.”
She’s still holding your arm. Grip firm.
Like she hasn’t fully registered it’s just you yet.
“Who.”
“My ex.”
She pauses. Then exhales.
Tension dropping slightly. But her hand doesn’t move.
“You just ran in here like that over a text?”
“Yes.”
You shove your phone toward her.
“Look.”
She lets go of your arm just long enough to take it.
Eyes scanning the message. Her jaw tightens slightly.
“He got nerve.”
“Exactly.”
You start pacing.
“He just said ‘hey’ like I didn’t—”
You turn—
And walk straight back into her space.
She catches you again. Hands landing on your sides this time.
Stopping you.
“Stop moving.”
Your breath catches slightly.
She’s close. Really close.
Still a little worked up from being startled.
“Stand still and talk.”
You freeze.
“…He texted me like nothing happened.”
She looks down at you. Then back at your phone. Then back at you again.
“And you came here.”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t text me?”
“I was mad.”
She huffs quietly. Then shakes her head.
“You’re dramatic.”
You glare.
“I am not.”
“You just kicked my door open over a ‘hey.’”
You open your mouth— Then close it.
She raises an eyebrow.
“Exactly.”
Her hands are still on your sides.
Warm. Grounding.
You swallow slightly.
“You were just sitting here like that?”
Her eyes flick down at herself. Then back at you.
“Like what.”
You gesture vaguely.
“Like… that.”
She smirks just a little.
“This my room.”
You roll your eyes.
“Whatever.”
She squeezes your sides lightly.
“Focus.”
You huff.
“He’s annoying.”
“I can see that.”
She finally lets go of you.
Steps back. But not far.
“Give me your phone.”
You hand it over without thinking. She looks at the message again.
Then back at you.
“You not replying.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
She tosses your phone onto the bed. Then nods toward it.
“Sit.”
You hesitate. Then sit.
She stays standing in front of you.
Arms crossed now.
Still in boxers. Still in that sports bra like it’s nothing.
Looking down at you. Before she grabs her sweats off the floor.
“Next time,” she says,
“Knock.”