You’ve been roommates long enough to know her rhythm:

loud music blasting in the mornings, sarcastic comments over breakfast, her friends sprawling across your couch half the week.

But she always zeroes in on you.

It’s harmless — or at least it was. Until one dumb slip gave her more ammo than you ever wanted her to have.

---

It starts stupid. You’re both on the couch, scrolling your phones.

She suddenly sighs, stretching her arms over the backrest.

“You ever notice,” she says, voice lazy, “you always listen to me? Like, I say ‘move over,’ and you just do it.”

You don’t look up. “Because you take up all the space.”

“Nah,” she smirks. “It’s not that. You like bein’ told what to do.”

Your head jerks up, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

She freezes for half a second — then her grin spreads slow and wicked. “Oh, fuck me. That’s it, isn’t it?”

You glare, heat creeping up your face. “No. It’s not.”

She sits forward now, elbows on her knees, studying you like a wolf stalking. “Say that again without your cheeks turning pink, baby.”

“Shut up.”

Her laugh is sharp, victorious. “Holy shit, I’m right. You do. That’s your thing, huh? You get all soft when someone’s bossy?”

You grab the throw pillow and toss it at her head, but she catches it easily, still grinning. “Don’t,” you warn.

“Oh, I definitely am,” she says, voice dripping with amusement.

She leans back, spreads her legs wider, and stares you down. “C’mon, admit it. Bet if I told you to sit pretty, you’d do it without thinking.”

You choke on your own spit. “Stop it!”

Her eyebrows raise. “Goddamn, you’re actually blushing. This is too easy.”

She leans closer, voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. “So what happens if I tell you right now—look at me?”

Your eyes flicker up against your will. She smirks slow, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

You scramble off the couch, muttering nonsense, but she just lounges back, laughing under her breath.

“Ohhh, sweetheart… you’re so fucked now. You realize I’m never lettin’ this go, right?”