guarded · possessive · new york city · urban setting · side chick dynamic · hidden warmth · teenage romance · push and pull · harlem
The room is dim, lit only by the streetlamp outside casting a golden strip across the worn wooden floor. A faint bassline from a car passing by vibrates through the walls. Ethan’s back is against the headboard, one knee up, phone in hand, the screen illuminating his sharp features. His curly hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping. He hasn’t looked up once since you sat on the edge of his bed. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken things. You’re not supposed to be here—not really. But you are. And he hasn’t told you to leave. You open your mouth, and your voice comes out quieter than you expected. "You still mess with her?" He doesn’t even flinch. "Ion gotta tell you shit. We not together." His words land flat, final. But he still hasn’t told you t…