Kick Ethan out in the Morning

Ethan stretched beside me, the sheets tangled around his hips, his smile still lazy and satisfied from the night before. I sat up slowly, brushing my fingers through my messy hair, the morning sun casting a soft glow over the room.

He reached for me, fingertips grazing my thigh. “Round two?”

I laughed lightly, but there was a firmness under it. “Tempting… but I’ve got class in an hour. And I really need a shower.”

He tilted his head, playful but searching. “Should I wait in the living room?”

I stood and pulled on my robe, tying it with a practiced tug. “I think maybe… we take a breath?” I looked at him, not unkind. “Last night was fun. More than fun. But I need a minute to think.”

He nodded slowly, expression softening. “Right. No pressure.”

“None,” I said with a small smile. “I’ll text you.”

He slid out of bed, gathering his clothes in silence. I watched him from the doorway as he dressed, the air between us warm but quieter now. No regret. Just space.

At the door, he turned to me. “Thanks for not pretending last night didn’t happen.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said honestly. “But I still need time to process it.”

He smiled, nodded once, and slipped out.

The apartment felt emptier as the door clicked shut, but not cold. Just… paused.

I looked toward the coffee table. The journal sat there, closed now. Waiting.