It is a trick. If I look busy and shiny, rejection cannot land. Then I am on the sofa checking he viewed the story again.
Tag: honesty
If it is all serious I tense up fast. Filthy and funny is the mix. I come easier when I am not bloody posing about.
Not always, but often enough to notice the pattern. Body against body and the day shuts up. It works until I get fully dressed again.
I can do no-strings. I am genuinely good at it. Then someone makes tea properly and I invent a whole future they never once offered.
Drinks, sex, a vague plan that never lands on a calendar. I am done collecting almosts. Book a table or do not get me tonight.
Not in bed. In the head. They want the filthy girl until she asks what Saturday looks like. That is when they need space first.
Uber. Bar. A name I will not save. I sat at work hoping nobody asked. Being skint makes romance feel like a secret little purchase.
It is a man who liked attention, not the Tuesday. Stop dressing it as complexity. If he cannot say what this is, it is nothing.
Do not guess like you are brave. Ask. Then do it like you meant the answer. Confidence is listening with your hands still on me.
Water and a check in are not deluxe. They are basic. If you can take your clothes off you can ask if I got home.