destroying everything. I was one moan away from ripping her clothes off.

But fuck—It was so close. No matter how good that felt, we had to stop.

We're friends.

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

She cleared her throat—too loud, too forced—before shifting away completely. "I should, uh... clean up," she mumbled, voice slightly uneven. "You know, before I go."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, sitting there for a second too long before finally forcing myself to move. "Yeah," I said, voice lower than I meant for it to be. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Neither of us acknowledged the way my fingers twitched like they missed her.

The room suddenly felt too small. Too quiet.

The TV was still playing, the background noise the only thing keeping this from being unbearable.

I stood up, stretching my arms slightly like I wasn't completely wound tight, like I wasn't still reeling from the way she had felt beneath my fingertips, the way she had let me touch her.

Madelyn rubbed the back of her neck before standing up as well, pulling at the hem of her hoodie as she turned toward the kitchen. "I'll grab the glasses."

I nodded again, following behind her, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between us. It was like a living, breathing thing. We were both pretending not to feel it.

I walked to the sink, turning on the water, letting the sound fill the silence as I washed my hands. I needed to cool down. To snap myself out of whatever daze she had put me in.

The seconds stretched on as I scrubbed my hands, as if that would erase the memory of how she had felt, how she had sounded, how she had let me pull her right to the edge before stopping ourselves.

Like that was going to do anything.

Madelyn was beside me now, setting the glasses in the sink, her movements precise, almost too careful, like she was hyper-aware of what had just happened. Her breathing had evened out, but I wasn't convinced.

She felt it, too.

I let the water run over my fingers for a second longer than necessary before finally turning it off, shaking off the excess before grabbing a towel. "You sure you don't wanna stay?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, casual but not casual enough.

She paused. "I should go."

It was the right answer.

I nodded, drying my hands, setting the towel down on the counter a little too slowly. "Alright."

The silence was suffocating.

Madelyn was still standing in my kitchen, fingers idly tracing the edge of the counter, her gaze fixed on something that wasn't really there.

I was still drying my hands, hyperaware of every movement she made, of the way her breath was just the slightest bit uneven, the way mine was too.

Neither of us had said anything about it since we pulled away. Since we stopped. Since we let the moment get too close to something we couldn't take back.

I wasn't sure who was going to speak first, but I knew it needed to happen.

Madelyn exhaled through her nose, rubbing the back of her neck, still not looking at me. "That..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "That shouldn't have happened."

I should've agreed. It was the logical thing to do. The right thing to say. But I didn't. Instead, I just watched her, waiting. She finally lifted her gaze, eyes meeting mine for the first time since she pulled away. "I mean... we were just—"

"Caught up in the moment," I finished for her, my voice quieter than I intended.

She nodded slowly, her fingers flexing against the counter like she wanted something to hold onto. I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to breathe. "It doesn't mean anything."

Madelyn's lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself. Then, finally, she nodded again. "Right."

But it did mean something. We both knew that. The problem was that neither of us was willing to admit it. I exhaled sharply, leaning against the counter. "It won't happen again."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for me to catch it. Then she nodded. "Yeah. Right. It won't."

Another beat of silence. The kind that made my stomach twist. Madelyn cleared her throat, stepping back, putting a deliberate amount of space between us. "I should go."

I swallowed the words sitting on my tongue, the ones I wasn't sure I wanted to say out loud. Instead, I nodded. "Yeah."

She grabbed her keys, walking toward the door, but before she stepped outside, she turned slightly, her expression unreadable. "Text me when you get home," I said before she could.

A small, barely-there smile tugged at her lips. "I will."

She hesitated again, just for a second. Then she was gone.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the door, still feeling the warmth of her against me, still hearing the way she had gasped my name, still replaying every single second we had let ourselves forget the line we weren't supposed to cross.

It wouldn't happen again. At least, that's what we were telling ourselves.