Resting in bed as usual…in my own room…not hers…youwoke up turning over to aimlessly find my phone which didn’t charge by the way…scrolling on my phone, half-heartedly trying to ignore the fact that once again, Courtney was in my bed—drooling like she didn't have a care in the world.

You nudged her, hoping she’d get the memo to give me some space, but instead, she just turned over, blanket wrapped tight, like she knew what you wanted and wasn’t gonna make it weird. No drama. No big deal.

It’s like a routine, but routines never really get easy, do they? There’s always that flicker in my head, wondering what exactly made her choose me as a roommate in the first place. We’ve hooked up before—separately more less whether she has guys, girls, over and vice versa for me cuz she’s like that…so supportive. it’s always been mutual—weirdly a great dynamic.

She never stays for more than that, always playing the wingwoman or quality assurance bestfriend role with her effortless charm and need to follow me when I have an interest in something. And maybe that’s just fine, but I’ll never quite shake the thought that there's more to it all.