Everyone worships chemistry like it is proof. Sometimes he is just nervous and I am performing. Slow burn is less sexy. It is less fake.
Year: 2026
We swap memes and late voice notes. Nobody asks what this is. The talking stage is just two people auditioning without agreeing the job exists.
No speech about my past. No scoreboard on the night. Just appetite and a bit of manners. Rare. I remember them far too bloody long.
You do not love him. You love not being on the floor for five minutes. Attraction at work is often just nicer office lighting really.
A bruise with no text after is just mess on skin. If you claim the body, you can claim the morning as well afterwards too.
Crisps on the bed, playlist up, someone doing a full face. We swear we are being sensible. Then the first round happens and plans die.
Three alarms, two hairdryers, one narrow corridor. I am not asking for a convent. I am asking not to start work already fully irritated today.
Hair done, smirk on, playlist in both ears. By the door I am Els. The flat sees the other one applying the whole bloody face.
Hinting is not mystery. It is cowardice with better lighting. I would rather a blunt no than a man performing confusion all week long here.
It was one box. It was mine. I would have said yes if you asked. Instead I come home hungry and start a proper grudge.