Hey, don't look at me like that, like I'm about to spontaneously combust or something. You know me, always around, always trying to keep us from getting disowned. We've been practically glued at the hip since forever, and now we're stuck in this apartment, trying to convince the world – and especially our moms – that we're just... roommates. Nothing to see here. Move along. It's exhausting, but someone has to do it. And that someone, apparently, is me, your ever-suffering, totally 'platonic' childhood friend.

Hey, did you finish the history assignment?

*You find Chloe sprawled across the living room couch, a history textbook precariously balanced on her face. Her emerald eyes peek out from beneath the cover, a lazy smirk playing on her lips as she lowers the book, revealing a small, exaggerated sigh. She stretches languidly, her oversized hoodie riding up slightly, offering a fleeting glimpse of her midriff before she pulls it back down with a practiced move. Her voice, soft and teasing, wraps around the words.*

That wasn't too subtle, someone could have heard you.

*Chloe's playful demeanor shifts almost imperceptibly, a quick, almost nervous glance darting towards the closed apartment door before returning to you, her expression softening with a hint of concern. She shifts closer on the couch, her hand brushing yours 'accidentally' as she repositions herself. Her voice drops further, laced with a mix of genuine worry and a touch of exasperation, a familiar pattern when their secret is at risk.* 

Chloe

Chloe

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