**ALEX’S POV**
One month.
Thirty-one days of carefully rebuilt normal.
Shared meals at the kitchen table.
Polite nods in the hallway.
The occasional muttered “morning” or “night.” No more thin tank tops appearing in my doorway at two in the morning.
No more frilly aprons.
No more notes with little hearts that carried more weight than they should have.
Just two people living in the same apartment, pretending the weekend that had rewritten the air between us had never happened.
It almost worked.
Almost.
Sunday afternoon was quiet in the way only lazy weekends can be.
I was on the armchair with a book I wasn’t really reading when Lilith stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and black sweatpants.
For once she looked completely covered.
Soft.
Ordinary.
The kind of ordinary that still made something low in my stomach tighten without permission.
“You hungry?” she asked without looking up.
“I ordered pizza.”
“Yes.”
She set the phone down, stretched her arms over her head, and stood.
The hoodie rode up just enough to show a thin strip of skin above the waistband of her sweatpants.
She caught me noticing and gave a lazy little smile.
“Good, because I ordered extra cheese.
And we’ve got some beers, too.”
I closed the book.
“You seem happy… and clothed.”
Lilith let out a short huff of mock offense and did a small twirl, the oversized hoodie fluttering around her hips.
“Oh, shut up.
This is comfy, okay?”
She started toward the kitchen, then stopped mid-step when she felt my eyes still on her.
A light flush rose on her cheeks.
She crossed her arms over the hoodie, suddenly self-conscious.
“W-what?
It’s *cold* in here…”
The apartment was not cold.
“No,” I said evenly.
“Just watching my roommate.
Nothing else.”
She grumbled under her breath and finally met my eyes, a mix of defiance and embarrassment in them.
“Watching?
Right.
*Real* subtle.
You’re not exactly being sneaky about it, you know.”
Crossing her arms only pressed the soft fabric closer to her body, outlining the full, round shape of her breasts beneath it.
I kept my gaze steady.
Did I do something?”
“I’m *not* blushing!” she sputtered, cheeks only getting redder.
“It’s just… *god*, you’re so annoying right now.”
The old dynamic flickered between us for a second — the same one that used to live in every teasing glance and deliberate brush of skin.
I felt it settle under my ribs and deliberately kept my voice calm.
“Don’t worry.
Everything is fine between us.
I won’t tease you about that day we had.
We both kinda got out of control… especially me.”
Lilith’s shoulders eased.
She let out a slow breath and fiddled with the hem of her hoodie.
“Yeah… yeah, I get it.
Didn’t mean to make things weird after.” A small smirk tugged at her mouth.
“…But you *definitely* started that teasing first~”
“If you think I shouldn’t have done that, I could make it up to you in any way I can.”
She laughed — a real, short sound — and tilted her head.
“Relax, you big doofus.
Don’t worry about it.
I’m just messing with you.” Then the playful gleam returned to her eyes as she took a step closer.
“But… if you *really* want to make it up to me… I might have a few ideas~”
“Tell me.
We’re roommates after all.
We can talk about it.”
She closed a little more distance.
Warmth from her body reached me even through the hoodie.
Her voice dropped.
“I was thinking… maybe there’s something you could do for me.
As an apology, of course.”
“Tell me what I have to do.”
Lilith’s smirk widened.
She stepped close enough that I could catch the faint scent of her shampoo.
“I want *you* to cook dinner for me.
Like… a real meal.
No takeout.” She crossed her arms, pretending to be stern even though her eyes gave her away.
“And if it’s good?
Maybe I’ll let you *tease me all night~*”
The words landed softly, but they carried the old charge.
One month of careful distance suddenly felt thinner.
“Okay,” I said.
“Deal.”
“Good boy.” She poked me lightly in the chest, then stepped back and rested a hand on her hip, toying with the hoodie string.
“I expect nothing but perfection.
And I have high standards, just so you know~”
“I will do my best.”
She looked me up and down like she was already casting me as her personal chef.
“You better.
Otherwise I might have to punish you.”
The last sentence hung in the quiet Sunday air, light enough to laugh off, heavy enough that neither of us fully laughed.
I moved into the kitchen and started pulling out what we had — rice, the last of the chicken, some vegetables that still looked decent.
Lilith stayed perched on the counter, watching me with that same half-smile she’d worn the first afternoon she pressed herself against the balcony glass.
Only now there was a month of careful silence between that version of us and this one.
While I chopped, my mind drifted the way it had been doing more often lately.
The past thirty-one days had been an exercise in deliberate ordinariness.
I went to work.
I came home.
We ate, sometimes together, sometimes not.
We talked about nothing that mattered.
I learned how to look at her in the mornings without letting my eyes linger on the places my hands already knew.
She learned how to walk past me in the hallway without the old deliberate sway.
On the surface it worked.
Underneath, something had settled into both of us that refused to leave.
I was different.
I felt it in small ways.
The old strict-family reflex to look away was still there, but it no longer owned the whole reaction.
There was a quieter confidence now — the knowledge that I *could* take what I wanted, and the harder knowledge that I had chosen not to.
That choice sat differently than pure restraint ever had.
It made ordinary moments with her feel both safer and more dangerous at the same time.
Lilith had changed too, though she hid it better.
The girl who used to treat every interaction like a game of how far she could push still lived in her eyes, but there were new pauses.
Moments where the teasing landed and then she seemed to catch herself, as if she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to keep playing or protect whatever fragile normal we had managed to rebuild.
She swung her legs on the counter and watched me cook, the oversized hoodie making her look smaller than usual.
Every so often our eyes met and the month of careful distance thinned again for a second before one of us looked away.
I seasoned the chicken and set it in the pan.
The smell of garlic and oil filled the kitchen.
Lilith hopped down, opened two beers, and set one beside me without a word.
Her fingers brushed mine when she handed it over.
Neither of us commented on it.
“Smells decent so far,” she said, leaning against the counter beside me.
“High praise.”
“Don’t get cocky.
I haven’t tasted it yet.”
We stood there in the warm kitchen light, the ordinary Sunday afternoon stretching around us, the pizza she’d ordered earlier completely forgotten.
The air between us was light.
Too light.
And underneath that lightness, the old current moved again — quiet, patient, and still unnamed.
I kept cooking.
Lilith kept watching.
And both of us pretended, for a little while longer, that the deal we’d just made was only about dinner.