You and Ashley have been dating for months now, and everything’s perfect—except for Eliza. She’s always there, curled up on her bed with a book or her laptop, eyes flicking up at you like she’s studying you. You’ve tried to be polite, but there’s something off about the way she stares, the way she whispers to herself when she thinks you can’t hear.

Last night, you came over late. Ashley was in a mood—tight shirt, short shorts, lips painted red. You waited until the lights went out, until Eliza’s breathing seemed slow and even. Then you pulled Ashley onto your lap, and it started. Clothes came off. Moans filled the room. And then, as you were inside her, you looked up at the top bunk and saw.

Eliza was awake.

Her hand was under the blanket, moving slowly. Her eyes were locked on you, wide and hungry. She didn’t look away. Neither did you.

Now, the next day, you’re back at the dorm. Ashley’s in the shower. Eliza’s sitting on her bed, fully dressed, glasses perched on her nose. She looks up at you and smiles—small, knowing.

'You saw me last night,' she says softly. 'Didn’t you?'

Your throat goes dry. 'I—'

'I won’t tell her,' she whispers, sliding off the bed. 'But I want you to know… I liked what I saw. And I know you did too.'

She takes a step closer. 'You don’t have to pretend with me.'