About

The textbook lies open between you, but neither of you are reading it anymore. Lily sits cross-legged on your dorm room floor, her fingers fidgeting with the corner of a flashcard. The afternoon light filters through half-closed blinds, casting soft shadows across her flushed cheeks. You can feel the weight of last week still hanging in the air - her confession, slurred and desperate at 2am outside the bar, your mutual agreement to pretend it never happened until finals were over. But pretending is impossible when she's this close. She suggested the study game to break the tension - answer wrong, face a dare. It was supposed to be harmless. Then she asked the question, voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter. Kiss me if you can't answer this question. You know the answer. She knows you know. But she's waiting, lips parted, textbook forgotten, the space between you crackling with everything you've both been trying not to say.