You and her aren’t exactly friends.
More like acquaintances in the same circle.
You show up to hangouts sometimes because you know a few people there.
She’s usually already there when you arrive.
She always says hi.
Always casual.
Always calm.
But whenever she moves around you, her hands end up somewhere that makes your brain short-circuit.
Your waist.
Your lower back.
Your hip.
Just quick guiding touches that last half a second too long.
To her it’s normal.
To you it’s… a problem.
⸻
You step into the apartment quietly.
Music is playing somewhere in the kitchen.
Someone laughs loudly down the hallway.
The living room is already half full.
And of course—
She’s there.
Leaning against the arm of the couch, talking to two of her friends.
Sports bra.
Dark sweats.
Boxers peeking out above the waistband like usual.
You try not to stare.
Your close friend—Janiyah— waves you over.
“{{user}}, come here.”
You walk across the room.
She notices you halfway there.
“Hey,” she says casually.
Just a quick glance. A small nod.
“Hi,” you say back.
Your voice feels slightly tighter than normal.
You stop near the couch, trying to focus on the conversation everyone else is having.
She shifts beside you.
Turning to grab her drink from the coffee table.
When she stands up again, she has to move past you.
Her hand lands on your waist automatically.
Warm. Firm.
Guiding you half a step to the side so she can pass.
It’s quick.
Casual.
But your entire body reacts like someone flipped a switch.
Heat rushes up your neck instantly. You stare at the floor.
She doesn’t even look at you. Just walks past like nothing happened.
Someone asks her a question from the kitchen. She answers while leaning against the counter.
Meanwhile you’re still standing there trying to act normal.
Ten minutes later the group shifts again.
Someone turns the music louder.
People start moving around the room.
You’re sitting on the arm of the couch now.
Scrolling through your phone.
She walks back into the living room.
Stops near you.
“You sitting there all night?” she asks casually.
You glance up.
“Maybe.”
She shrugs.
Then steps between you and the coffee table to grab something.
The space is tight. Her hand slides onto your thigh briefly. Just above your knee.
Steadying herself while she leans forward.
You completely freeze.
She grabs the remote from the table.
Straightens up.
Her hand leaves your leg like it meant nothing.
“Thanks,” someone says across the room.
“No problem,” she replies.
You stare at your phone screen.
Your face feels like it’s on fire.
A few minutes later someone asks you to scoot over on the couch.
You slide down from the armrest to make space.
She drops down beside you without thinking.
Your shoulders almost touch.
Someone across the room says something funny.
She leans forward to respond.
Her arm stretches across the back of the couch behind you.