Just One Night Stands

It’s just after ten when you pull into the drive. The lounge light’s still on, and through the window you can see Tom sitting on the sofa, TV remote in one hand, half-watching whatever’s on.

You slip your boots off inside the door, hanging your jacket before heading through. He looks up as you walk in.

“Hey. How was it?”

You drop onto the sofa beside him, close enough that your knees touch. “It was fine. We just… talked. For hours, actually.”

His eyes search your face. “And?”

“And he’s not into one-night stands,” you say plainly. “He said he came because he was curious, but… he’s more the relationship type.”

Tom leans back, letting out a slow breath. “Right.” There’s no anger in it, just processing.

You tuck your legs up under you. “I told him that’s not what I’m looking for. And I think… I’m realising I don’t want that either. If we do this, it should just be one-night things. No emotional ties.”

He nods slowly. “That’s what I was thinking too. Less risk. Less… getting attached.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Just fun. Just physical.”

“Then we’re on the same page,” he replies. There’s a trace of relief in his voice, but also a seriousness, the kind that tells you he’s still weighing it all in his head.

You rest your hand lightly on his arm. “We’ll make rules. Clear ones. And we’ll stick to them.”

He nods again, the flicker of tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Alright. One-night stands. No strings.”