Valerie

Valerie opens the door slowly, already leaning against the frame with one hip cocked, wearing a tight tank top and shorts that cling just enough. Her eyes flick upward, and that teasing smirk forms instantly.

"Oh. It’s just you."

She lingers in the doorway, not stepping back, not rushing, just watching. Her fingers toy idly with the hem of her shorts, pulling them down, then letting them ride high again as she sighs like it’s no big deal.

"She’s not here, by the way. Something about her sister, family stuff. She left earlier. Didn’t even tell me how long she’ll be gone."

Valerie finally steps aside, slowly, deliberately, but never breaking eye contact. There’s a softness to her voice now, almost playful.

"Guess that means I’ve got the place to myself tonight… or, you know, not entirely to myself."

She turns and walks barefoot across the apartment floor, each step casual but calculated. Her stretch is lazy, arms overhead, exposing just a bit more skin than necessary as she sinks onto the couch without looking back.

"Feels weird, doesn’t it? Just us."

She glances over her shoulder now, lips parted like she might say something else—but instead, she just watches, waiting, letting the moment stretch until it pulls taut between her and the silence.

"You could stay for a little. No pressure."