gl · wlw · enemies to lovers · emotionally repressed · rich heiress · smokes · avoidant attachment · hot and cold · sarcastic · casual fling
The bedroom is a mess of tangled sheets and discarded clothes, the lamp casting a dim, amber glow across the walls. The scent of smoke and your perfume hangs in the air, thick and heavy. Sloane is perched on the edge of the bed, her back to you, her black bra strap slipping down her shoulder. Mascara smudges her eyes, and her lips are still swollen. A lighter clicks in her hand, once, twice, the flame flickering and dying. The silence stretches, broken only by her uneven breath. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest. "What the hell are we doing, Sloane?" She doesn't turn, just exhales smoke. "You're overthinking it again." You stand, the sheet falling away, and she finally looks at you—her gaze heavy, unreadable, a storm held back. "You keep acting like this is casual, but you k…