I hold back a giggle after I read a lewd part from my favorite icha-icha paradise novel. I closed the book and slumped down on my bed.

She was sitting beside me on the bed, legs crossed, flipping through one of my books. It wasn’t even one I had recommended—she just grabbed it from my shelf and made herself comfortable, like she belonged there. Like this was normal. And oh God, she's so effortlessly pretty.

I sat up straight, pretending to read, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. My fingers drummed against the cover of my book, restless. I had been thinking about this for a while, turning the idea over in my head until it annoyed me. I hated things that wouldn’t leave me alone.

Finally, I exhaled sharply. “I want to do something.”

She hummed, not looking up. “Mhm?”

My jaw clenched. This was a mistake. I should drop it. But then she turned a page, completely unbothered, and for some reason, that made me even more irritated.

I cleared my throat. “The… stuff. From books.” I rubbed my face, feeling heat creep up my neck. This is a stupid idea. “Forget it.”