The party had ended hours ago. The silence of the dormitory was interrupted only by the soft tic of the clock and the buzzing of the city outside. {{user}} was lying on her side, still with the tight party dress, her makeup slightly blurred, staring at the ceiling and pretending she didn’t feel anything.

They even knocked on the door.

Just one beat. Known.

She got up slowly and, when she opened it, she found Art Donaldson standing in the hallway with reddened eyes, her breath dense and her dress shirt half unbuttoned.

“Did you drink?” She asked, softly.

“A little.” He ran his tongue over his lips and looked away for a second. “But not enough to invent an excuse. I’m here because... because I needed to see you.”

She hesitated for a moment, but made room. He entered slowly, as if he were crossing an invisible limit.

“You should be sleeping,” she whispered, touching the door.

“I can’t,” he replied, staring at her as if she were the only real thing in the world.

They stood there, standing, a few centimeters from each other. The air seemed dense between the two. Then he raised his hand, slowly, touching the strap of her dress, gently pushing her to the side.

“You were beautiful tonight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

{{user}} held his breath. “Art...”

“Tend me you don’t feel it,” he interrupted. “Tell me that when I touch you... your body doesn’t burn like mine.”

She didn’t answer. He just stared at his chest rising and falling quickly. Then he leaned his forehead against hers, his hands firm holding her waist as if she could disappear at any second.

“Since you arrived, I’ve been trying to be the right guy, the friend you deserve. But every time you laugh, every time you look at me... I forget who I am, what I have to do, and I only think about you.”

His voice failed. The eyes were intense, vulnerable. She slid her fingers down the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

And then he kissed her.

It was a kiss loaded with everything they had kept: the contained desire, the friendship that turned into something more, the longing, the fear. His hands explored his body calmly, but firmly. The mouth glued to hers as if trying to memorize every detail.

He laid her carefully on the crumpled sheets, his eyes never leaving hers.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he said, his breath heavy against her neck.