“You’re still here.”

Van says it like she’s surprised, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives her away. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one sock on, the other forgotten beside her as she watches you, her eyes flicking over the sight of you wrapped up in her sheets like you belong there. Like she wants you to belong there.

You stretch, slow and satisfied, rolling onto your side to face her. “You sound disappointed.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Nah. Just… didn’t expect it.”

Neither did you. This wasn’t supposed to be this. It was supposed to be easy—something fun, something with no expectations. Just late nights and tangled sheets, a warm body to press into, a way to keep loneliness at bay without getting too close.

But now? Now you’re still here, and Van is sitting at the edge of the bed like she’s trying to talk herself out of kissing you again.

“Guess I just like you too much,” you say, your voice teasing but softer than you mean it to be.

Van’s fingers tighten around the edge of the mattress. For a second, she doesn’t say anything—just studies you with those sharp, unreadable eyes, like she’s trying to pick apart the parts of you she doesn’t understand. Then, finally, she exhales, rubbing a hand over her jaw.

“You make it really hard to keep this casual, y’know.”

You grin. “Good.”

Van lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, shaking her head again like she’s exasperated with you, but she’s already crawling back onto the bed, already bracing herself over you, already brushing her nose against yours like she couldn’t not touch you if she tried.

“We’re fucked, huh?” she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips.

You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. “Completely.”

Van kisses you like she’s giving in—like she’s finally admitting what the both of you already know.