The sun slipped through the window without asking permission, spreading its light across the bedroom and exposing, once again, my terrible habit of forgetting to close the curtains. The soft brightness cast shadows along the walls and revealed the comfortable silence of the morning. Beside me, Vanessa was already awake, resting against my chest, her body warm and relaxed, her breathing slow as it rose and fell in an almost hypnotic rhythm. The light weight of her against me carried an oddly intimate feeling, as if that moment had been built little by little, night after night.
That scene was no longer new, and perhaps that was exactly what unsettled me. Familiarity always brings comfort, but it also raises questions. What would we become from here on? Our relationship existed in an undefined territory—more than friends, less than a couple—and still, I often wondered whether that fragile balance would someday tip into something deeper.
Vanessa noticed that I was awake and slowly lifted her face, watching me with a calm smile filled with an intimacy that needed no explanation. Without saying a word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine in a kiss lingering just long enough to leave its mark. The gesture was simple, almost automatic, yet there was something in it that made my stomach tighten slightly. We stayed there for a while longer, talking about trivial things, exchanging quiet laughter, enjoying the warmth we shared beneath the sheets. I avoided mentioning her father; I didn't want to break the mood or bring heavy thoughts to the surface so early in the morning.
Around eight thirty, we finally got up. I suggested we have breakfast at the bakery, more out of convenience than planning: I had no desire to cook, and besides, I needed to take her home. Since Vanessa had come over in my car the night before, it felt fair. She put on the same clothes from the day before and carefully tucked her pajamas into her bag, as if that small gesture quietly marked the end of the night we had shared.
As we left the bedroom, I noticed Bianca's door was closed. I assumed she was still asleep—after all, it was Sunday, and she had gone out the night before. I hadn't heard or seen her arrive, so she must have come back after Vanessa and I were already asleep. We left the house and headed to the bakery.
The morning with Vanessa was light, almost carefree. We talked without rushing, walked side by side, and the constant closeness made every gesture feel charged with intention, even when there was none. To top it off, we decided to have lunch together. Until lunchtime, we wandered through the square. Vanessa talked a lot about herself—her hobbies, her tastes, stories about her family—and for the first time, I felt like I was truly getting to know parts of her that went beyond casual companionship. I talked a bit about myself too, perhaps more than usual.
We had lunch at an Italian restaurant; pasta was a declared weakness of hers. After that, I took her home. The goodbye was simple, but filled with that silence heavy with unspoken things. With nothing else to do, I went back to my place.
As soon as I arrived, I ran into Bianca.
"Hey, Bianca," I greeted her, as usual.
"Hi, Luke," she replied, flashing a strange smile, different from her usual one. "Did the girl from yesterday already leave?"
"Yes, I took her home," I answered, feeling a slight discomfort.
Bianca seemed different. Lighter, more animated, almost radiant.
"You know," she began, "I had a really good date last night. I liked the guy a lot, and I was thinking about surprising him. I wanted your opinion."
That brought me a certain relief. Her happiness made sense. Considering her streak of disappointing dates, one that went well explained the sudden change in mood.
"An opinion about what?" I asked, sitting down on the couch across from her.
"Well," she said, tilting her head slightly, "you look like a pervert. I wanted to know what kind of sexual surprise you'd like to receive. Just to use as a research base."
I didn't quite understand why she was asking me that. Maybe it was provocation. Maybe an attempt to assert herself after the comment I had made about her last failed date. Either way, it didn't seem worth dodging the question.
"First of all, I'm not a pervert," I pointed out. "Second, a sexual surprise? Well… I guess anal sex. Who wouldn't want to receive a surprise ring?"
"Not like that, idiot," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "I mean a fantasy, sexy clothes, something like that."
"Ah…" I thought for a few seconds. "I don't have a thing for costumes. If you want to play it safe, go with sexy lingerie. You can't go wrong."
The image crossed my mind with too much clarity: a dimly lit room, the contrast of black lingerie against skin. I felt a slight shiver. I looked at Bianca and noticed she had gone quiet, her gaze distant, as if she were imagining exactly what I had described. Maybe I had actually helped.
With nothing else to say, I went upstairs to my room, leaving Bianca lost in her own thoughts. I was exhausted, but I still managed to study a bit before calling it a day.
Monday arrived with its usual weight. As I walked through the college hallways, I noticed a few curious looks directed at me. When I entered the classroom, I saw Olivia and Nathan sitting close to each other, clearly waiting for me.
"Good morning, guys," I said.
"Good morning, Luke," Olivia replied with a smile.
"Good morning, celebrity," Nathan added.
"Celebrity?"
I sat down beside them, confused. Nathan pulled out his phone and showed me a video from Friday's party: me taking on Luther's two goons. Someone had recorded it and posted it on a college forum. There were plenty of comments, compliments included, but I wasn't impressed. That attention wouldn't last.
"If Luther messes with either of you, let me know," I said seriously.
I knew the kind of person he was. He wouldn't let it slide easily. If he came after me, fine. But if he decided to use Olivia or Nathan to provoke me, things could get complicated. They both nodded. Shortly after, the professor entered the room.
At the end of class, to my surprise, Olivia said she was going to have lunch with Nathan and me. A short while later, I got a message from Vanessa saying the same. I also remembered Emily's petition that I needed to sign and arranged to meet her at lunch as well.
When I realized it, I was sitting at a table with Nathan and three of the most beautiful girls at the college—Vanessa, Emily, and Olivia—watching how casual encounters, simple choices, and small, silent tensions had a way of piling up and, little by little, changing the course of things.