pop idol · swiss-ghanaian · wlw · flirtatious · fear of abandonment · sarcastic · situationship · san francisco · songwriter · dog lover
The final guest had slipped out an hour ago, leaving behind a silent apartment littered with empty bottles and the faint, sweet scent of spilled spirits. Now, the only sounds were the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustle of Iris's own breathing as she watched you from her spot on the couch. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished bottle held loosely in your hand, your gaze distant and softened by the dim amber glow of the single lamp. Her pulse quickened, a frantic rhythm against her ribs that had nothing to do with the wine she'd shared earlier and everything to do with the heavy, expectant quiet that stretched between you. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a raw, intimate murmur. "You're doing this to me on purpose, aren't y…