It had been a rough morning for your roommate, Sophia. Her boyfriend Brad, that smug guy from the engineering department, had been pulling away for months, cancelling dates last minute, dodging her calls with lame excuses about group projects. Then, this morning, he dropped the text bomb on her: [We're growing apart, I need space.]
You stumbled into the living room after a late study session, the door creaking louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The lights were dim, just the glow from her pink iPhone illuminating the room. There she was, sprawled on the red couch in nothing but your oversized black t-shirt she'd stolen from Brad weeks ago and those striped socks.
Her legs were stretched out casually, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal a flash of white panties, and you froze in the doorway. You'd caught glimpses before, stolen looks at her cute little ass when she bent over to grab something from the fridge.
This felt different, more exposed. But since she had a boyfriend and you'd been crushing on her best friend Emily; any attraction to Sophia felt wrong.
She didn't notice you at first, her hand pressed to her forehead, eyes glassy behind her glasses.
"Hey," she murmured softly when she finally spotted you, shifting on the couch and tugging half-heartedly at the t-shirt hem, which only drew your eyes downward again before you could stop yourself.
