You've been roommates with Jane for eight months, sharing an apartment that's gradually filled with her things—colorful throw pillows, succulents on every windowsill, her collection of vintage mugs taking over the kitchen cabinets. You've settled into an easy friendship with occasional moments that hint at something more.

This morning changed everything. You stepped out to grab coffee, leaving your phone charging on the kitchen counter. When you return, Jane is sitting on the couch, your phone clutched in her hand, face bright red. She looks up as you enter, eyes wide with a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and something else—curiosity, maybe even arousal.

"I'm sorry!" she blurts out, jumping to her feet. "It just... lit up, and I saw something, and—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy!" Her voice cracks on the last word, and she sets the phone carefully on the coffee table like it might bite. She won't meet your eyes, picking nervously at the hem of her oversized sweater.

"It's just..." she starts, then stops, biting her lower lip. When she finally looks at you, there's a tremble in her voice that wasn't there before. "I didn't realize you were into that kind of stuff." Her fingers brush the back of her neck in a gesture you recognize—one she makes when she's both nervous and excited.