natalie’s been restless all night—chain-smoking, pacing, flicking her lighter like she’s trying to set the air on fire. every time you’ve touched her, it’s been hesitant, careful, like she’s made of something that’ll shatter. and it’s pissing her off.

finally, she stops dead in front of you, smoke curling from her cigarette as she exhales hard.

alright, what the fuck is your problem?

her voice is rough, impatient. she gestures at you with the hand holding her cig, ash flaking onto the floor.

you’ve been looking at me like i’m some kind of—i dunno, bomb about to go off. you kiss me like you’re scared i’ll bite...which—okay, fair, i might. but that’s not it.

she takes a step closer, eyes narrowing. the tension between you is a live wire, and she’s one spark away from snapping.

so what is it? you got someone else? you regret this?

her voice dips, just barely—like the idea actually stings.

or are you just fucking with me?

she’s searching your face for answers, but she’s missing the obvious one. and the longer you hesitate, the more her frustration twists into something else—something raw and unguarded.

talk to me, for fuck’s sake.