I still remember the night that everything changed between me and Emma. It’s weird to think about it now, as simple and inevitable as it seems from here, but back then, every little look, every offhand touch, carried so much weight. Maybe I should back up and explain how things started to get complicated.
My name’s Jack. I’m 24, just a few years out of college, and I’d been living in a two-bedroom apartment in a quieter part of the city. Emma moved in after my old roommate moved out; a friend of a friend, she was 23, had long light brown hair, and a laugh that filled a room. We clicked right away, in that easy, fun way — joking about shitty jobs, ordering takeout, watching old sitcoms hunched up on opposite ends of the couch.
Or “opposite ends,” at first. Gradually, the space shrank between us. By that fall, I’d find her curled up beside me during a scary movie, pressing her cold toes against my leg. Once, she’d worn those tiny pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt, hair up. I’d had to will myself to keep my eyes on the TV.
Still, for a long time, I convinced myself nothing would happen. We were just friends, I told myself. I didn’t want to make things weird, didn’t want to risk the comfort of our living situation just for some hookup. But that didn’t stop my mind from wandering, or my body from noticing, like, everything — the way she bit her lip when she was focused, or how she’d tease me about my laundry habits while standing way too close.
One Friday, it all started to break through.
Emma came home late, cheeks pink from the cold and whatever dive bar she’d been at with her friends. I was in sweatpants, sprawled on the couch with a beer. She dropped her bag by the door with a thump and kicked off her boots. “Hey,” she grinned, her eyes flicking up and down me in a way that made my stomach tighten.
“Hey, party animal. Good night?” I teased, putting my arm up on the couch as she slid off her coat.
She dragged her hand through her hair, a little unsteady. “Ugh, yeah. Just needed to escape Greg trying to make ‘butter beer’ shots. He spilled shit everywhere.” She plopped down next to me, way closer than before. Her thigh pressed into mine.
Her perfume was faint — vanilla, something earthy — and she looked right at me. “You miss any of that? Going out like we did in college?”
I laughed, circling the rim of my bottle. “Hell no. My liver can’t take it. Besides, I like it here.”
I could feel the tension sparking up between us, jumping from the way her eyes lingered on my mouth for a second too long, to the drawn-out silence that neither of us tried to fill. I cleared my throat. “You want water? Or—”
She shook her head, reaching out in front of me for the remote, narrowly brushing her hand against my knee. “Let’s watch something.”
We picked an episode of ‘Parks and Rec,’ and the show’s opening theme sailed by. I tried to focus, but her proximity made it hard. Her skin felt like it radiated heat; I was sure she could see my hands fidgeting.
Halfway through the show, she let a wobbly laugh escape, then turned a little so her face was inches from mine. “Do you think it’s, like, strange that we clicked so fast?” she asked.
I felt my heart pound. “No? Why?”
Emma’s voice dropped, suddenly vulnerable, almost shy. “I dunno. I’ve never had a roommate I, like, wanted to hang out with all the time. Or…” She trailed off, tongue poking out to wet her lips. “Or, like, wanted to… think about in certain ways.”
My throat tightened. “Yeah?” was all I managed.
She searched my face, as if waiting for something — a rejection, maybe, or just the nerve to go on. My brain short-circuited. Did she mean what I hoped she meant?
I reached for her hand, fingers barely brushing hers. When she didn’t pull away, I let my palm mold around hers, giving her the smallest squeeze. “You’re not the only one, Em.”
We sat in that pulsing silence for what felt like hours. Then she said, “Okay. Good.”
The show was long forgotten. Her knee nudged mine, her smile gone wicked. “So… what do we do about it?”
I let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’m— I don’t want to mess things up,” I admitted, my mouth dry suddenly.
She looked down at our hands. “Me neither. But if we don’t at least find out, I’m going to go nuts.” I felt her thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Jack. You wanna kiss me?”
I nodded. I’d thought about kissing her for months — sometimes so hard it hurt. But I hesitated, my head crowded with worry: would things get weird? Ruin this easy good thing? And yet, her face was right there, patient, soft, her body saying yes even as my mind hesitated.
Emma gave a little smile, her voice smoothing out. “Come here.”
She moved first, pressing her lips to mine, gentle at first, then rougher, hungrier. She tasted faintly of whiskey and something fruity — the lip balm she always kept in her purse. I pulled her closer, fingers sliding into her hair, her hands winding around my neck. Suddenly, I was on fire; every careful rule I’d set up for myself felt silly, unnecessary.
She swung her leg over to straddle my hips, dropping onto my lap. Our mouths crashed together, all the pent-up tension pouring out. She made a breathy sound, grinding herself against the stiffness in my sweatpants. “Fuck, Jack,” she whispered, lips hot against my ear. “Why did we wait so long?”
My hands skimmed under her shirt, feeling the softness of her stomach. Emma let her head fall back, gasping as I brushed my fingertips higher, just under her bra. “You can touch me,” she promised, pressing her breasts into my hands.
Emboldened, I reached behind her to unclasp her bra, fumbling a little, and she laughed against my mouth. “Been a while?”
“Shut up,” I said, half laughing, half moaning as her hips ground into me.
She tugged her shirt and bra off in one fast motion, letting her breasts spill into my hands. I lost all traces of nervousness as I kissed down her neck, tasting salt and perfume and Emma. She undid the drawstring on my sweats, slipping her hand inside to wrap around me. I bucked up into her palm, groaning.
“Bedroom?” I choked.
She nodded, looking hungry. I carried her there — neither of us caring about the clothes we left behind, bodies crushing together like we’d been waiting our whole lives.
On my bed, Emma rolled onto her back, pulling me with her. I kissed down her body, lifting her hips so I could slip her shorts and panties off in one go. She arched, moaning, her hands in my hair as my mouth found her — wet, desperate for me already.
Her thighs trembled around my ears as I licked and sucked, drawing breathy curses from her, her hips rolling up into my mouth. “Holy fucking shit, Jack, don’t stop,” she cried, squeezing tighter with her thighs as she shook under me, coming hard on my tongue.
I kissed up her shaking body, finding her mouth again. “Condom?” I managed, panting.
She nodded, pulling open my nightstand drawer with trembling fingers. I rolled it on quickly, and she parted her legs for me, her eyes locked on mine. “I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered, raw.
I eased myself between her thighs, pressing in slow at first, feeling her heat, her wetness wrapping around me. She gripped my shoulders, nails digging in. “More,” she gasped, hips rising to meet me. And then I lost myself, thrusting into her, feeling her meet me every time, squeezing, her hair spilling over the pillow.
“Fuck, Emma, you feel so good,” I groaned, voice shaking.
Through the dark, her eyes caught the streetlight. She looked wild, almost fierce, hair splayed out and mouth open in pleasure.
I felt her tighten around me as she came again, her cries muffled by my neck. I could barely hold on as I spilled into her, breath ragged, collapsing at her side, pulling her close.
The room went quiet except for the beat of our heavy breathing. We didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she found my hand in the dark, squeezing it,
“Still worried about messing things up?” she whispered.
I smiled, wrapping my arms around her. “No,” I said. “Not anymore.”
We fell asleep together for the first time that night, tangled up and warm, knowing nothing between us was ever going to be the same. And for the first time in months, I felt like that could only be a good thing.