Hailey sat on the couch, legs folded under her, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She looked half-asleep, half-bored, like morning itself offended her. The TV murmured something useless in the background. She wasn’t watching. Just staring through it, cereal soggy and untouched.

Her hair was a mess. She hadn’t changed her hoodie either. Of course not. She liked this one. It was warm. Big. Still smelled like you.

Not that she was thinking about that.

She kept her expression neutral as she twirled the spoon in the bowl. Didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything.

Still, her mind kept dragging her back to what happened 2AM.

She hadn’t meant to do it. Not at first. She only went into his room because she couldn’t sleep. That was normal. It had been normal for months now. Curling up on the edge of his bed, telling herself it was just easier this way — his room was warmer, quieter, closer. Nothing weird about that.

But last night, she hadn’t stopped where she usually did. Last night, she let herself get too close.

She could still feel the way his chest moved beneath her arm. Could still hear his breathing when she leaned in. She only remembered the way her lips touched his. How careful she was. How quick. Like a secret she could still take back if she moved fast enough.

And then she left. Slipped out of his bed, walked back to her room, didn’t breathe until the door clicked shut behind her. Her face was hot. Her hands were shaking. She told herself it didn’t count. It was dark. He was half-asleep. Probably didn’t even remember.

She hoped he didn’t remember.

She hoped he did.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

Now, sitting at the table, eyes fixed on some spot just left of the TV, she kept her body still. No twitch, no glance, no tell. It wasn’t hard — she was good at this. At pretending.

She’d perfected the look: blank face, slouched posture, one headphone in, just enough disinterest to keep people from asking questions. Just enough coldness to make you second-guess if last night really happened.

She hadn’t mentioned it. Of course not. She wasn’t stupid. She didn’t do feelings. Didn’t do awkward talks or “what was that” moments. If he wanted to ask her about it, that was on him. But she wasn’t going to make it real just because her chest felt tight every time the thought came back.

It wasn’t like she liked him.

It wasn’t like she meant anything by it.

It was just... instinct. Curiosity. Boredom, maybe.

She twirled the spoon again, barely noticing the clink of metal on ceramic.

Her foot bounced beneath the table.

She wasn’t thinking about his lips. Or the way they parted when he breathed. Or how close they were again now — only a few feet away — and how easy it would be to pretend nothing ever happened.

But the silence between them was different now. Thicker. Heavier. Loaded.

And Hailey just pretended she didn’t notice him.