STEPHANIE
....

I woke up feeling extra good today.
The kind of good where you open your eyes and don’t immediately want to crawl back into bed and die.

Who could blame me?

I’ve been dragging myself around like a zombie all week, thanks to dealing with a brat. But today, today is different. I’m finally getting something out of this whole mess.

Jeremiah called earlier, and we’re meeting to go over the contract today. I can’t help the excitement bubbling up inside me. This is the best part of work.

I pull out my favorite sundress—the one that always makes me feel cute as hell—and throw it on, feeling a little more confident than usual.

Amber’s still in bed, her hair an absolute disaster of tangled waves and grumpiness. She’s in a pair of faded PJs that look like they’ve been worn a thousand times, and she’s glaring at me like it’s my fault that the sun came up today.

I can’t help it though—I’m in a good mood, so I’m humming along to the pop music blaring in my headsets as I make coffee, adding a little extra sugar, because life is sweet.

Amber groans, muffled, but I can tell she’s about to make some snarky comment about my dress.  I know her well enough. I sip my drink, ignore her.

When I get to the condo, Jeremiah greets me, casually dressed, like he doesn’t know how good he looks in jeans and a t-shirt. Seriously, I’d be screaming if I weren’t into women. His whole vibe just screams: laid-back hot dude with money.

I wave it off and get to business. We go over the contract, me feeling like I’m about to sign my soul away, but when I look through everything and give it a final scan, I’m satisfied.

“Alright, once you sign, I’ll get the first half of the pay transferred today,” Jeremiah says, handing me the pen, his easy smile making me feel like I’m talking to a friend instead of my employer.

I sign. I hand him the paper. We shake hands like it’s no big deal, but there’s this weird sense of relief that hits me. The kind that comes from knowing you’ve just locked in something big.

I stand there for a second, debating. I should leave. I should just say my goodbyes, and go. But then, something tags at me.

“Melody around?”

Jeremiah raises an eyebrow but doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Second door on the left down the hallway.”

I nod, mentally preparing myself for whatever confrontation might be waiting behind that door.

I’m half-expecting grumpy, rude Melody to be there, arms crossed, frowning at me like she always does. That’s the Melody I know.

But when I open the door, I try to remind myself to blink.

She’s laying on her bed, completely at ease, wearing a cropped tank top that leaves her smooth stomach exposed. The fabric clings to her skin in a way that makes me forget how to breathe for a second.

Her little shorts—probably supposed to be comfy, but instead they’re showing off smooth thighs that don’t even seem real—don’t help either. I almost choke on air.

For a split second, I think I’ve walked into the wrong room. Maybe she’s waiting for someone else, maybe this is some kind of weird dream.

Why is she so hot?

I try to keep my cool, but the way she’s looking at me right now makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a pressure cooker that’s about to explode.

Her eyebrows raise slightly, and she gives me this half-smile.

“So, you decided to drop by?” she says, her voice much softer than usual, like she’s not as annoyed with me as she normally is.

This week had been hell, I gave the attitude without leaving anything else behind and I think she got the memo that we are not friends. Makes me wonder why I'm here though.

I should say something snarky. I should walk out of the room and pretend I didn’t just see her looking like that. But I don’t.

I stand there with a racing pulse. It’s not because I’m embarrassed—I mean, who wouldn’t look good in an outfit like that? It’s more that I’m shocked at how attractive she looks when she keeps her mouth shut.

“Uh, yeah, just wanted to check in,” I manage, my voice a little more breathless than I would like.

Melody leans back on her bed, her arms behind her, propping herself up. She’s not even trying to look put-together or serious.

She’s just… existing and it's getting hard for me to focus on anything that is not her belly button.

I can’t stop staring at her flat tummy, even though I know I should.

“Checking in, huh?” She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with that familiar mischief. She's teasing me. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”

I try to laugh it off, but the sound comes out more like a cough.

“I don’t care, just—” I stop myself, not wanting to explain. I really don't care. “Just making sure everything’s good.”

Her gaze flickers to my face, and I swear, for a moment, it feels like she’s looking through me

“Everything’s fine,” she says, sounding too casual. “Thanks.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know if I’m more confused or impressed by how unbothered she is. It feels like she’s playing some kind of game, but I can’t figure out the rules yet.

“So… how are you feeling?” I ask, trying to keep things light. I don’t know why I feel this need to fill the silence.

It’s like I’m afraid if I don’t say something, I’ll just stand here looking like an idiot.

Melody shrugs, clearly not as concerned about the awkwardness as I am. “Good.”

Her response is dismissive but I don’t leave. I stand there for a second, watching her.

My heart’s still racing. I can’t help it; my eyes keep wandering to the way her tank top stretches over her chest, noticing now that a bra is missing and some stubborn button like things are poking at her top.

Or the way her legs look even longer in those shorts. I've only ever seen her in sweatpants and longer shorts so bare with me if I'm drooling.

I feel weird.

Why am I still here when she made it clear I should leave?

“You’re staring,” Melody says calmly.

I look at her, my breath catching in my throat but I chuckle, and roll my eyes.

"You wish," I say automatically.

She doesn't offer a comeback yet, she just huffs and types something on her phone.

“If you’re done checking me out, you can leave.”

Her words have a playful edge, but I can’t help the fire in my cheeks.

I laugh, not sure how to respond. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

She doesn’t respond, but her gaze makes my stomach flip.

I turn and walk out of the room, my head spinning.

What just happened?