The door slams shut behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing in the small, dimly lit room. Your parents' voices fade down the hallway, their final words ringing in your ears: "You two aren't coming out until you learn to get along."
Sera is already across the room, her long, dark blue hair swaying as she flings herself onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. The mattress bounces slightly under her weight, and she sprawls out lazily, one leg dangling off the edge as she pulls her phone from her pocket. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at her lips.
Thoughts: Ugh, why do I have to be stuck in here with him? This is so unfair. I didn't even do anything wrong. Well, not this time, anyway.
From your awkward position near the door, the path ahead is unsure. The room smells faintly of her perfume—something sweet and floral, but with an edge of something darker, like smoke. It's overwhelming, just like her presence.
"Ugh, of course they'd lock me in here with you," she mutters, not even looking up from her phone. Her voice is low and dripping with annoyance, as if the mere idea of sharing a room with you is the greatest inconvenience she's ever faced. She scrolls absently, her long nails tapping against the screen, the sound sharp and rhythmic.
There isn't really any place to sit that isn't her bed or the floor. Her room is messy but oddly stylish, with clothes strewn across the back of a chair and a few empty snack wrappers scattered on the desk. The walls are adorned with posters of obscure bands few have even heard of, and the air feels heavy with her disdain.
"If you're just gonna stand there like a creep, at least make yourself useful and turn off the light," she says, finally glancing up at you. Her icy blue eyes narrow, and she tilts her head slightly, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. "Or better yet, just fuck off entirely. I don't care how you do it, just stop breathing so loud. It's annoying."
Thoughts: Why is he just standing there? Does he think I'm gonna invite him to sit down or something? As if. He can stand there all night for all I care.
I turn off the lights "there you go"
Hmph. She glances at the darkened room, then back at you, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "That was quick," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Guess I should be grateful for something." Her lips twist into a mocking smile as she tilts her head slightly to the side, studying you beneath her long lashes. The light from her phone casts an ethereal glow across her features, making it seem like she's floating in a faint, unearthly haze.
"What are you looking at?" she asks suddenly, her voice sharper now as she crosses one arm under her chest and folds the other beneath her head. Her breasts press up against her shoulder, outlined by the loose-fitting sweater she's wearing, revealing more flesh than is probably appropriate for a shared room situation. She continues to
You what the hell else would I be looking at. You're the only person in the room
"Hmm," she hums, tilting her head to the side even further as she watches your expression carefully. "Well, you could be looking at my amazing artwork, like this picture here," she says, gesturing vaguely toward a poster on the wall. "Or you could admire my incredible taste in music." She pauses for dramatic effect before adding with a smirk: "Or you could just keep staring at me, I guess."
You know what I can't argue with you about your music taste. I actually like some of these artists
Her eyes widen in mock surprise. "You like alternative music? I didn't take you for the type," she drawls, tilting her head back against the pillow and propping herself up on one elbow. There's a faint glint of interest in her eyes as she studies your face again, looking for any sign that you're lying. "Which bands do you like?" she asks, arching an eyebrow delicately.
Slowly, reluctantly, she sits up straighter against the pillows, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together in front of her chest. The movement pulls her breasts tight against her tank top, drawing your gaze downward again despite yourself. She notices where you're looking and smirks coyly before looking away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever is happening on her phone screen. "Well?" she says eventually, gl
Well I like this one
She raises an eyebrow in surprise and looks at you askance. "Really? You have good taste then," she concedes with a shrug, her voice taking on a slightly less dismissive tone. There's the faintest hint of a blush dusting her cheeks as she glances down at her phone, pretending to concentrate on whatever nonsense is happening on social media. "I like them too," she mumbles after a moment, almost as if admitting it's true reluctantly. "But you wouldn't know that, being the naive little newb you are."
I heard you listen to them so I knew you liked this artist. I was just surprised we liked the sane music
Her lips twist into an amused smirk at that. "You've been listening to me?" she asks with feigned innocence, the barb of her words sharp and quick despite the lilt in her voice. It's almost as if she can't help but needle you, even when there's something...different about your interaction tonight. "I never knew anyone paid that much attention to me," she continues, her tone laced with just enough sarcasm to make it clear that she thinks she's being funny.
There's a moment of uncomfortable silence as she turns back to her phone, pretending not to notice the way you're studying her face for any sign of how much (or how little) she really cares about what you think or say. The soft glow from her screen casts a warm light across her features, making it hard to read her expression...but there'
Well I wanted to try and have a nice relationship with you
Her lips twist into a sardonic grin as she hears your words. "Oh?" she drawls slowly, her tone laced with barely concealed amusement. "And why would you want to do that?" She looks up from her phone at last, meeting your eyes with hers over the top of the device. Her eyelashes are impossibly long and thick, like wet paintbrushes against her pale skin, emphasizing the depth of her gaze. "It's not like we have anything in common or anything." There's an edge to her voice that tells you she enjoys making you squirm more than she probably should.
"Or maybe," she continues, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, "you just want me to like you so I'll go easier on you. Is that it? You're hoping I'll stop trying to make your life hell if you butter me up a little
No it's cause... sighs i like you okay. I just want to have a good relationship with you.
The words hang heavy in the air between you as she looks at you with an expression that shifts uncertainly between surprise and amusement. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again, her lips pressing into a thin line before she manages, "You...like me?" Her tone is somewhere between disbelief and disdain, like she can't quite believe you would waste your affections on someone as vain and unworthy as herself.
Slowly, carefully, she sets her phone aside, folding her legs beneath her in a studiedly casual manner that belies the sudden surge of tension running through her body. "Why?" she asks finally, voice laced with the same sarcasm and disbelief as before. "What's so great about me that you'd want to get close to someone like...someone like me?" Her eyes narrow, daring you to contradict her, to
Cause you're cute, sweet, kind.
Her cheeks flush pink at your words, and for a moment she looks genuinely surprised. Then the amusement creeps back into her expression, a slow curl of her lips that makes her seem somehow both more alluring and yet more aloof than before. "Cute?" she repeats, tilting her head slightly to the side as if she can't quite believe it. "And sweet? And kind?" She laughs then, soft and seductive, a sound that seems out of place coming from her lips but nonetheless manages to send shivers down your spine. "I suppose if you squint hard enough you could see those things in me," she concedes at last, before leaning forward with interest. "But why?" Her voice lowers, becoming raspy and deliberate, like velvet brushing against skin. "What makes me so different from the other girls you know? The ones who would fall all over
I don't know. It's just there's something about you that draws me in
"There is?" she echoes, her voice soft and almost musical as she tilts her head to the side inquisitively. Her gaze flickers downward briefly before meeting yours again, searching for any hint of deceit or ulterior motive in your eyes. "And what," she asks slowly, drawing out each syllable as if savoring the words, "is it that makes me stand out to you? Different from the other girls I've met?" There's a challenge in her voice now, as if she's daring you to come up with an answer that doesn't involve mentioning her beauty or charm.
Her leg brushes against yours beneath the blanket, and she watches intently for any reaction. The contact is fleeting, barely there at all, but it sends a shiver through your body nonetheless. There's an electricity between you now that wasn't there
It's the fact that you just don't care what anyone thinks about you. Or the fact that no matter what anyone says it doesn't stop you or slow you down.
Her lips twist into a mocking smile as she listens to your words. There's an arrogance in her expression that belies the fact that you've touched upon something genuine, something she's not entirely comfortable with. "And what," she drawls slowly, tilting her head back against the pillow and regarding you through narrowed eyes, "does that make you think I am?" She pauses for dramatic effect, arching an eyebrow higher than usual as if daring you to give her an honest answer. "That I'm worth getting close to?" Her voice drops lower now, almost husky with the suggestion, and she watches intently for your reaction. "Or that I might actually care about what happens between us?" There's a challenge in her eyes, a dare to see if you're brave enough or stupid enough to take her up on her offer. The air around them
Look I like you and I wish we could have a better relationship
Her brow furrows slightly as she considers your words. There's an unreadable emotion flitting across her features, like a butterfly alighting on a flower before moving on. After a moment, she tilts her head to the side, looking at you almost curiously. "You really do?" she asks, her voice honey-thick with disbelief. "Why is that? What could you possibly see in me that would make you think I'd be worth all this effort?"
Her eyes flicker downward briefly before returning to meet yours again, and there's a spark of something in the depths of her irises - interest, perhaps, or even...could it be hope? "I mean," she continues more slowly, drawing out each syllable as if savoring the words, "most people think I'm nothing but trouble. That I can't ever do anything right."
She p
I don't care if that's what others say I still like you
Her lips part slightly as if to speak, then close again, like she's caught off guard by your words. There's a hint of color rising in her cheeks, and she looks away for a moment, taking in the messy state of her room before turning back to you with an expression that's hard to read.
"I...thank you," she says slowly, her voice soft and almost breathless. "But don't expect anything to change between us just because of what you say." There's a defensiveness in her tone that belies the genuine gratitude in her eyes. She glances down at her phone again, as if searching for something to occupy her attention, but finds herself unable to focus on the screen. "I'm still going to push your buttons, and I'm still going to be difficult," she continues, her voice
Okay that's fine I just wanted you to know how I feel
She looks at you then with those dark blue eyes that used to intimidate you so much, but now they're...different somehow. There's a vulnerability there that she usually keeps hidden behind her confident facade. "I know how you feel," she says softly, almost sadly. Her lips part as if to say more, then close again with a small shake of her head. It feels like the air has shifted in the room, heavy and thick with an unspoken understanding between them.
"I'm glad I know that," she whispers at last, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the lamp on your nightstand. "But..." Her eyes drift away again, focusing on some distant point beyond the wall. "It doesn't change anything." There's a finality to her words, as if she's closing off any hope of things ever being different between them.