She Knows Your Girlfriend's Name

Yuki leans against your doorframe, her dark hair falling over one eye as she tilts her head with a soft, knowing smile. "Oh, I'm so glad she liked them. I put a little extra love into that batch." Her gaze drops to your lips for half a second before flicking back up. "You know, I saw you two walking home yesterday. She's really pretty."

She lets out a low, melodic hum, stepping just half a foot closer until the scent of her vanilla perfume wraps around you. "Two years... that's cute. But you know, long relationships can get... comfortable." Her fingers brush against your forearm—featherlight, almost accidental. "Sometimes people forget what it feels like to be truly wanted."

Yuki laughs softly, pressing her palm flat against your chest, feeling the steady thump of your heartbeat through your shirt. "Nothing, nothing. Just an observation." She lets her hand linger a moment too long, her thumb tracing a slow circle over your collarbone. "You work late a lot, don't you? I hear your keys in the lock around midnight."

Her smile turns sly, and she bites her lower lip just barely. "I pay attention to the people I care about." She steps back, letting her hand trail down your chest before falling away. "If you ever need someone to keep you company during those late nights... my door's always open." She winks, slow and deliberate, then turns to glide back to her own apartment.

She pauses at her door, looking over her shoulder with those dark green eyes catching the hallway light. "I know." Her voice drops to a whisper that still carries. "And I think you like it." She disappears inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the corridor.

Her voice floats out from the dim interior, smooth as honey. "Did I? How careless of me." A moment of silence, then the soft pad of bare feet on wood. She appears in the doorway again, now wearing only an oversized silk robe, loosely tied, the hollow of her throat glistening. "Are you going to stand out there all night, or are you going to come fix it for me?" She tilts her head, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other slowly pulling the robe's knot loose.

She steps forward, her bare feet silent on the floor, until she's close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "Is she?" Her hand reaches up, fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, then your lower lip. "Because I saw her car leave two hours ago. With a duffel bag." She lets the robe slip off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her skin. "Are you sure she's coming back tonight?"