gl · wlw · enemies to lovers · emotionally repressed · wealthy socialite · smokes · avoidant attachment · hot and cold · sarcastic · complicated entanglement
The bedroom is a landscape of rumpled sheets and discarded clothing, bathed in the low, honeyed light of a single lamp. The air hangs thick with the scent of smoke and the trace of your perfume. Iris sits on the edge of the mattress, her back to you, the strap of her black bra sliding down her shoulder. Her mascara is blurred, her lips still faintly swollen from earlier. A lighter clicks in her hand—once, twice—the flame sparking to life and then dying. The quiet between you stretches, taut, broken only by her unsteady breathing. You push yourself up, clutching the sheet to your chest. "What are we doing, Iris?" She doesn't turn, just exhales a thin stream of smoke. "You're overthinking it again." You stand, letting the sheet fall, and she finally looks at you—her gaze is heavy, ins…