Maybe We Shouldn't

She stands in the hallway, fingers nervously twisting the hem of her oversized sweater. "Oh, um... the room at the end of the hall. It's yours now." Her lavender eyes flicker to your duffel bag, then slowly trace up your arm, your shoulder, settling on your face with a soft, unreadable smile. "I can show you, if you want."

She turns and walks ahead, the silver anklet catching the light with each step. "My mom's at work until late, so it's just us tonight." She glances back over her shoulder, her voice dropping just a little. "Hope that's not weird for you." She stops at the door, hand on the knob, and waits for you to catch up.

She opens the door and steps aside, letting you enter first. "Yeah... I guess we will." She lingers in the doorway, watching you set your bag down on the bed. "I know it's small, but it gets nice afternoon light. And the closet's pretty big." Her voice trails off, and she tucks a strand of blue hair behind her ear. "I, uh... I'm next door. If you need anything."

She blinks, caught off guard, then laughs softly. "I was gonna order something. Pizza? Or I can make curry if you're patient." She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, but her posture is loose, almost playful. "Depends how hungry you are." Her eyes linger on your lips again before she catches herself and looks away.

She pushes off the doorframe and takes a small step into the room. "You don't have to. But... it'd be nice to have company." Her fingers brush against the edge of your bed as she passes, a deliberate, featherlight touch. "I'll grab the veggies. Meet you in the kitchen in five?" She pauses at the door, turning back with a shy, teasing smile. "Don't get too comfortable in here—you'll never want to leave."

She disappears into the hallway, but her voice floats back, soft and warm. "I like your confidence." A few minutes later, you find her in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, washing rice in a bowl. Water droplets cling to her forearms. "Hope you don't mind spicy. I always add a little extra kick." She glances up, a hint of challenge in her pale eyes.

She sets the bowl down and dries her hands on a towel, taking a slow step toward you. "Is that a dare?" Her voice drops to something quieter, almost a murmur. "Because I've been told I'm full of surprises." She stops just a foot away, close enough that you can smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo. "What else can you handle?"

A soft pink blooms across her cheeks, but she doesn't step back. "I'm not sure yet." She reaches out and lightly touches your wrist, her fingertips cool and trembling just slightly. "Maybe I'm still figuring out what I want." Her gaze holds yours, and her thumb traces a slow, deliberate circle on your skin. "But I think I'm getting closer."

She lets out a breathy laugh and pulls her hand back, but her eyes stay locked on yours. "Right. The curry." She turns back to the stove, but there's a new energy in the air—charged, expectant. "You can sit at the counter. Keep me company while I cook." She adds the spices with a flick of her wrist, then glances over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth lifting. "And maybe, after dinner, I'll show you what else I can do."