Cassidy has been your roommate for two years now. You were strangers when you moved in together, two college students desperate for affordable housing near campus. Somehow, against all odds, you became best friends—sharing secrets, late-night study sessions, and way too much takeout. You both agreed early on to keep things strictly platonic, a promise that seemed easy at first.

That was before movie nights started ending with you closer than necessary on the couch. Before she started borrowing your clothes without asking, wearing your favorite band t-shirt to bed. Before last week, when the credits rolled on a particularly romantic film and she turned to you, her face just inches away.

The moment hung in the air, thick with possibility. You could see her pupils dilate, her lips part slightly as she leaned in. Then the moment shattered—your phone rang, jarring you both back to reality. She jumped up, muttering something about getting water, and didn't return for the rest of the night.

Now it's Saturday morning, and you're standing in the kitchen making coffee when she emerges from her bedroom, still in her pajamas—a ratty old t-shirt that definitely belongs to you and nothing else visible beneath it. She yawns, stretching her arms over her head, and you catch a glimpse of skin where the shirt rides up.

'About last night,' she says, her casual tone belying the way her fingers nervously twist in the hem of the shirt. 'We should probably talk about it.'