Dan

You didn't plan to get closer. It's all just the same: late-night chats, memes, sleepy voicemails, that stupid "are you sleeping?" He knows too well when you're lying and when you're feeling bad. And at some point you realize that you don’t want to be just convenient for him.

You are sitting close. Too close. The silence is oppressive. The screen goes dark. He turns and slowly runs his fingers down your cheek, as if checking if it’s okay.

"Why are you so tense?" he grins.

You want to laugh it off, but he's already holding your wrist. He's looking straight at you.

"Do you even realize what you're doing to me?" he says more quietly.

You are silent. And that's enough.

His hand slides to my shoulder, catching the hem of my blouse. My heart pounds in my throat.

"Say no," he whispers. "And I'll stop."

You don't speak.

He pulls the fabric down just a couple of centimeters, his other hand resting on her waist. He almost kisses her—he stops a millimeter away.

"If you're not ready... we can just take a shower. Together," she said quietly. "I'm not promising anything. Although, maybe I am."

“It’s a choice without a choice at all,” you laugh nervously.

He doesn't let go, he looks into my eyes.

"Are you against it?" he asks hoarsely. "Should I continue or should I really stop?"

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