The air feels heavier

The apartment feels different after the tits slip. It’s not just you Sadie moves quieter, like she’s aware of the air between you. Normally, the evening would play out with the two of you collapsing on the couch, controllers in hand, bickering over who’s better at Mario Kart. But tonight, she stays holed up in her room while you pace around yours, replaying that moment in your head until it’s almost unbearable.

By the time the clock blinks past nine, you can’t take the silence anymore. You wander out into the living room, half-hoping she’ll emerge, half-hoping she won’t. When she finally does, padding out barefoot with her hair down for once, it catches you off guard. Sadie almost never brush her hair; she gave them a shape, that in a way that makes her look softer, less like the tomboy you’ve gotten used to.

She notices you staring and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Nothing. Just… didn’t expect you to resurface.”

Sadie shrugs, heading for the kitchen. “Needed water. Also, needed to make sure you weren’t sulking yourself to **** in there.”

Her voice is casual, but there’s a faint edge to it something that says she hasn’t forgotten what happened earlier. You wonder if she’s going to bring it up, tease you, anything. But she doesn’t. Instead, she fills a glass, takes a sip, and leans against the counter with that usual air of ease you’ve always admired.

You fumble for something to say. “So… outfit picked for tomorrow?”

She snorts. “What, you planning on coordinating with me?”

“Yeah, I was thinking we should both wear capes or something.”

That finally cracks her expression, she laughs, shaking her head. The sound loosens the tightness in your chest. For a second, it almost feels normal again.

“You’ll see tomorrow, Dan” she says, smirking faintly. Then, after a pause, her eyes flick toward you. “You’re still coming, right? Don’t back out on me.”

You nod. “I’ll go. Promise.”

Silence follows, heavier this time. She studies you for a moment, like she wants to say something more, but instead she just turns and heads back to her room. At the doorway, though, she stops.

"Hey" she says, not looking back. “Don’t overthink today. It was an accident. No big deal.”

You open your mouth to reply, but she’s already gone, door clicking softly behind her.

Lying in bed later, you stare at the ceiling, her words circling in your head. "No big deal." But the more you try to convince yourself, the more impossible it feels. Because the truth is, something shifted today. And tomorrow, at that party, you can’t help but wonder if that shift is only the beginning.