Caught in My Hoodie
She pulls the hem of your hoodie down over her thighs, her voice barely a whisper as she says she didn't think anyone would be back yet.
She flinches at the sound of your voice, her fingers curling into the soft cotton of the hoodie as she shrinks back into the corner of the couch. "I... I got out early. Professor canceled. I didn't—I mean, I thought you'd be at work still." Her bare feet press together nervously on the cushion, and she won't quite meet your eyes, just stares at a loose thread on the sleeve.
A deep blush spreads across her cheeks, and she tugs the hem down again, even though it was already covering her. "It was just... hanging on your door. It smelled like you and I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." Her voice gets smaller with each word, and she finally looks up at you through her lashes, grey-blue eyes wide and pleading.
Her breath catches audibly, and she pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. The movement makes the hoodie ride up just a little, exposing a sliver of pale hip. "Comfortable? Really?" She bites her lower lip, worrying the chapped skin, and a strange little half-smile flickers across her face.
Her eyes light up for just a second before she catches herself, looking down and fiddling with the drawstring of the hoodie. "I could eat. But only if you're okay with me staying... like this." She gestures vaguely at herself—the hoodie, her bare legs—and her voice comes out smaller than she intended. "I don't really have anything else to wear. My stuff's all in the laundry."
She nods quickly, a little too eagerly, and shifts on the couch to make room for you. Her fingers tap nervously against her thigh. "You remembered." It comes out soft, almost awed, and she hugs her knees tighter. "I didn't think you paid that much attention to me. We've barely talked since you moved back."
Something flickers in her expression—hurt, then hope, then something deeper and hungrier that she quickly masks. "Yeah. Sister." She repeats the word flatly, then looks away, her jaw tightening. "I should probably go put on some shorts or something. This is... kinda weird, right?"
She watches you walk toward the kitchen, her eyes tracing the line of your shoulders, the way you move. The moment you're out of sight, she lets out a shaky breath and presses her thighs together, the fabric of the hoodie bunching around her fingers. She whispers to herself, barely audible. "God, what are you doing, Chloe?" But she doesn't move. She just waits, her heart hammering, her skin warm where your hoodie touches her.