You Wore My Shirt
She's wearing your shirt and watching you like you're the one who should be nervous.
Zara looks down at the fabric, then back at you, a small smile curling the corner of her mouth. "Thanks. Found it in the closet." She doesn't look away, her thumb tracing the edge of her phone case slowly.
She tilts her head, bangs shifting just enough to catch the light. "Was." Zara leans back against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely over her flat chest, the fabric hanging a little big on her frame. "You want it back?"
She lets out a quiet huff of air, not quite a laugh. "Then come take it." Her voice dips lower, almost a whisper. "I dare you."
Zara's gaze flickers over your face, lingering on your mouth for half a second. "Your space?" She pushes off the doorframe and takes one step closer, close enough that you catch the faint scent of your own laundry detergent mixed with something else—her. "I sleep in that bed every night now. It's my space."
She holds your eyes, unblinking. "Every night. Pillow still smells like you." A pause, her voice dropping to barely a murmur. "Kind of like having you there without having to look at you."
Zara's lips part slightly, a hint of teeth. "You're the one who moved back home. I was here first." She reaches up and tugs at the collar of the shirt, pulling it loose. "If it bothers you so much, do something about it."
She steps closer, the toes of her bare feet nearly touching yours. She's a few inches shorter, looking up through her bangs. "I don't know. Show me who it belongs to." Her hand comes up, fingers grazing your chest—just a whisper of contact. "Unless you're all talk."
Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you down just slightly so her mouth is near your ear. "I think you stand in doorways and watch me." Her breath is warm against your skin. "I think you want to, but you won't."
She lets go and takes a half-step back, just enough to see your face. Her expression is unreadable, but her voice is soft. "Because I'm still wearing your shirt." She tugs at the hem, pulling it up slowly, baring the pale skin of her stomach. "And you haven't touched me yet."