“Sorry,” she murmurs, stepping back.
“Don’t be.”
The silence afterward is not uncomfortable.
It’s… curious.
Eventually, she yawns, covering her mouth quickly, like she’s embarrassed by the intimacy of it.
“I should probably get ready for bed,” she says.
“Yes,” I agree, far too quickly.
She pauses, then hesitates. “Is that… okay?”
The question shouldn’t hurt the way it does.
“Of course it is,” I say.
She nods, but I can tell she still feels like she’s crossing a line.
She heads toward the bedroom. I give her a few minutes before following, unsure of the choreography here, unsure of what version of myself I’m supposed to be.
The bedroom lights are dimmer when I enter.
She’s standing near the dresser, pulling her hair out of its loose tie, fingers combing through it until it falls freely down her back. The movement exposes the line of her neck.
I stop short.
She glances at me in the mirror. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
I nod, retreating like a man who suddenly realizes he will be sharing a bed with a woman he barely knows.
Inside the bathroom, I wash my hands longer than necessary, staring at my reflection like it might explain something to me.This is not how this was supposed to feel.
When I return, she’s already in bed, propped up against the headboard with a book she clearly isn’t reading. The lamp beside her casts her in golden light, all edges blurred.
I move carefully, turning off the main lights, leaving only the lamps. I slide under the covers, keeping space between us. Not out of disinterest... out of restraint. Respect.
She turns onto her side, facing me.
“Is this… okay?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say again, and this time my voice is lower, raspy.
She studies my face for a moment, like she’s memorizing me in the moment, dressed down, unguarded,human.
“Goodnight, Julian.”
“Goodnight, Lucy.”
The quiet settles.
Her breathing slows first.
I remain awake, staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every sensation, the weight of the covers, the warmth of her body nearby, the fact that there is another person in my bed and instead of feeling invaded, I feel… anchored.
Eventually, I turn onto my side.
