Close Quarters 1

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The apartment complex is nothing like the listing photos. Sun-warped siding. Cracked walkway. A half-dead potted plant sits by the front steps like it gave up trying. You stand there, gripping a beat-up duffel bag in one hand and the apartment key in the other. This place... it’s yours now. Well, half yours. Some stranger already lives inside. A stranger you’ll be sleeping a few walls away from. The key feels warm from your palm. <<link "Step inside">> <<goto "Step inside">> <</link>>

The door opens with a soft groan, like even it’s tired. The air inside is stale with old coffee and faint vanilla candle, maybe yesterday’s attempt at covering up something worse. The space is small but lived-in. A hoodie is flung over the couch. A ceramic mug rests on the edge of the counter, coffee ring beneath it. Dishes soak in the sink, or maybe they’ve just been abandoned there. There’s a pause in your chest as you take it all in. What’s your first gut reaction?\ \ \ <<link "It's kind of cozy.">> <<goto "Explore or Wait">> <</link>> <<link "It's a mess, honestly.">> <<goto "Explore or Wait">> <</link>> <<link "It's everything I could have hoped for.">> <<goto "Explore or Wait">> <</link>>

You drop your bag just inside the door. The thud echoes louder than expected. Light pours in from a high window, cutting a diagonal across the living room floor. Dust swirls lazily in the beam. There’s a flickering light above the stove and a fan making a soft, steady clicking sound like it’s keeping time. What do you do? [[Check out the space.|Set Entry 1]] [[Call out to see if anyone’s home.|Set Entry 2]] [[Just sit down and wait.|Set Entry 3]]

<<print $entryDetail>> The door creaks open behind you. Footsteps, light and unhurried. You turn. She’s there, brown takeout bag in one hand, keys dangling from the other. Her expression flickers between surprise and recognition. “Oh, hey,” she says, setting the bag on the counter. “You must be the new roommate.” She pauses, then offers a soft smile. “I’m Cam. You?” <<if $playerName is undefined>> What's your name? <<textbox "$playerName" "">> <<button "Introduce Yourself">><<goto "First Impression - Name Given">><</button>> <</if>>

<<set $entryDetail to "You walk the perimeter slowly, a glance at the books on the shelf, the crooked poster half-taped to the wall. A sketchbook sits open on the coffee table, pencil lines mid-thought, half-formed.">> <<goto "First Impression">>

<<set $entryDetail to "“Hello?” Your voice breaks the quiet like a pebble in still water. No answer, just the hum of a fridge and distant traffic.">> <<goto "First Impression">>

<<set $entryDetail to "You ease onto the edge of the couch. The cushions give slightly. You check your phone out of habit, nothing urgent. It’s the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if it’s peace… or loneliness.">> <<goto "First Impression">>

You gesture toward the takeout bag. “If that’s a peace offering, I accept bribes in dumplings.” She laughs, a quiet, surprised sound. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” She leans against the counter, arms folded casually. “It’s Thai, actually. You hungry?” Her tone’s easy now. Friendly. You feel the air lighten between you, like you’ve just passed some silent test. <<link "“Starving, honestly.”">> <<goto "Settling In">> <</link>>

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks again for letting me move in. I know it was kind of last minute.” She waves it off with a shrug. “No big deal. Place needed filling, you needed a roof. Worked out.” She offers a small smile, the kind people give when they’re open, but not pushy. “I grabbed Thai on the way home. You eaten?” <<link "“Not yet. Thai sounds perfect.”">> <<goto "Settling In">> <</link>>

You give a small nod. “Yeah. Just got in.” She studies you for a second, then softens. “Long day?” You just shrug, and she doesn’t push. “Well,” she says, lifting the takeout bag, “I brought extra. If you want some.” Her offer is casual, but kind. You get the sense she’s used to reading the room, and giving people space. <<link "“Sure. Thanks.”">> <<set $playerLine to "Sure. Thanks.">> <<goto "Settling In">> <</link>>

You and Cam settle into the kitchen counter with plates of Thai food and mismatched forks. It’s quiet for a moment, not awkward, just the kind of silence where things are still being figured out. After a few bites, Cam sets her plate down and wipes her hands on a napkin. “Want the five-minute tour?” she asks, already sliding off her stool. You follow her out of the kitchen, trying to keep your composure as you step into the hallway. The soft lighting casts a warm glow, highlighting the curves of Cam's figure as she moves ahead, her confidence radiating from every step. “Bathroom’s down there,” she says, pointing casually toward the end of the hall. You can’t help but notice how her fitted tank top hugs her body as she gestures, but she seems completely unaware of the effect she’s having on you. “Last door on the left,” she continues, her tone light as she glances back at you with a playful smile. “Water pressure’s moody, so if you hear pipes groaning like a dying walrus, don’t panic.” You chuckle at her quirky humor, but your eyes are drawn to the gentle sway of her hips as she walks, the way her jeans follow the curves of her body. She turns slightly, catching your gaze momentarily before launching into her next line of commentary. “Your room’s across from mine,” she says, waving toward two closed doors. “Walls are thin, but I keep headphones on most nights. And I don’t care if you play music or talk to ghosts or whatever, just don’t leave dishes in the sink for three days and we’ll be cool.” As she opens a linen closet, you admire her as she rummages through the shelves, blissfully unaware of the way you’re taking her in. “Towels, sheets, first-aid kit... I think there’s a flashlight in there too in case the power goes out. Which it might, if you so much as breathe wrong during a storm. ”You can’t help but smirk at her dry wit as she goes on, her back still turned to you. The moment feels intimate, yet she remains oblivious to the way you’re captivated by her presence. Finally, she turns to face you again, a bright smile lighting up her features. “This is where I pretend to be productive while actually watching bad TV and sketching half-finished ideas,” she says, motioning toward the living room. The connection between you feels palpable, a current of energy humming in the air, while she remains blissfully unaware of how your gaze lingers. <<link "Offer to do the dishes.">> <<goto "Dishes Scene">> <</link>> <<link "Say goodnight and head to your room.">> <<goto "Late Evening">> <</link>>

Later, you’re in your room. Door shut. Light dim. Still a few boxes untouched in the corner, but you’ll deal with those tomorrow. The apartment settles. Pipes creak. A car passes outside, tires whispering over wet pavement. Through the wall, faint sounds, not voices, but life. A cabinet closing. A floorboard creaking. Cam brushing her teeth, maybe. The closeness is unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. You lie back and let the day fade. > Two strangers. One apartment. > This is going to get interesting. <<link "Next Morning">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

You tell her your name. She repeats it with a small nod, like she’s trying it out on her tongue. “<<print $playerName>>,” she says, then smiles a little wider. “Nice. Feels like it fits.” She slips out of her jacket and tosses her keys into a bowl by the door. “I brought Thai,” she says, lifting the takeout bag. “Hope you’re hungry.” --- What do you do? <<link "Crack a light joke.">> <<set $toneChoice to "joke">> <<goto "First Chat - Joke">> <</link>> <<link "Be polite and friendly.">> <<set $toneChoice to "polite">> <<goto "First Chat - Polite">> <</link>> <<link "Keep it simple. Let her lead.">> <<set $toneChoice to "quiet">> <<goto "First Chat - Quiet">> <</link>>

You gather the empty takeout containers and start rinsing them in the sink. The water’s cold, and the sound of it fills the space, steady, simple. Behind you, Cam leans in the doorway. Arms crossed. Watching, but not in a weird way. More like... curious. “Didn’t peg you as the type to wash dishes on move-in day,” she says. There’s a little smirk in her voice. You shrug, glancing back. “Figured I’d get some goodwill early.” She huffs a short laugh. “Smart.” There’s a beat of quiet. Not awkward, just a pause. The kind that fills a room when people aren’t sure what comes next. You finish up and dry your hands on the dish towel hanging by the stove. She gives you a small nod, like she’s deciding something about you. “Already better than the last roommate,” she adds. You raise a brow. “That bad?” Cam hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nah, just… different situation. Anyway.” She doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t push. For a second, it’s just the two of you standing there in the kitchen. No conversation, just the soft hum of the fridge and the low creak of the floor beneath you. You clear your throat. “Gonna turn in, I think.” She nods. “Yeah. Same.” You head to your room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you. Not because you mean anything by it, just habit, maybe. The apartment settles into its nighttime quiet, both of you tucked into your corners of it, figuring it out one small moment at a time. <<link "Say goodnight and head to your room.">> <<goto "Late Evening">> <</link>>

<<newmeter 'IntimacyBar'>> <<animation 500ms>> <<colors 'Pink' 'Red' 'black'>> <<label 'Intimacy' 'white' center>> <</newmeter>> <<set $Int = 0>> <<set $maxInt= 100>> <<newmeter 'DesireBar'>> <<animation 500ms>> <<colors 'Red' 'Orange' 'black'>> <<label 'Desire' 'white' center>> <</newmeter>> <<set $Des = 0>> <<set $maxDes= 100>>

Why does he need to move in with a roommate? Any family issues? Flesh out players personality/ demeanor or keep it vague for player to insert self. <<link "Continue">> <<set $time = "Afternoon">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> <<elseif $Des >= 3>> scenes may be too onesided have player talk more not just cam

Intimacy - <<print $Int>> Desire - <<print $Des>> Day <<print $day>> - <<print $time>> <a href="https://patreon.com/SqrlppGames" target="_blank">Support me on Patreon</a>

<<button "Damage">><<set $hp -= 10>> <<updatemeter 'HealthBar' `$hp / $maxhp`>> <</button>> <<button "Crit">><<set $hp -= 30>> <<updatemeter 'HealthBar' `$hp / $maxhp`>> <</button>> <<button "Romance">><<set $Int += 10>> <<updatemeter 'IntimacyBar' `$Int / $maxInt`>> <</button>> <<button "Woo!">><<set $Int += 30>> <<updatemeter 'IntimacyBar' `$Int / $maxInt`>> <</button>> <<button "Abuse">><<set $Int -= 30>> <<updatemeter 'IntimacyBar' `$Int / $maxInt`>> <</button>> <<button "Watch">><<set $Des += 10>> <<updatemeter 'DesireBar' `$Des / $maxDes`>> <</button>> <<button "Grope">><<set $Des += 30>> <<updatemeter 'DesireBar' `$Des / $maxDes`>> <</button>> <<button "Ignore">><<set $Des -= 30>> <<updatemeter 'DesireBar' `$Des / $maxDes`>> <</button>> <<newmeter 'HealthBar'>> <<animation 500ms>> <<colors 'green' 'red' 'black'>> <<label 'Health' 'black' center>> <</newmeter>> <<set $hp = 100>> <<set $maxhp= 100>>

Welcome to Close Quarters You’ve just moved into a new apartment, ready to start the next chapter of your life. Fresh walls, unfamiliar city, and one stranger you’ll be sharing everything with, space, routines, and the small moments in between. Will you build something real together, or slip into something more complicated? Take your time. Explore. Decide how far you’ll go, and who you’ll become. This is a very small scale game as i learn, i figure i make a condensed game and once i get better at this evolve it into more possibly. Still early and will develop more into each route in the future. <<link "Start the Game">> <<goto "Moving In">> <</link>> <a href="https://patreon.com/SqrlppGames" target="_blank">Support me on Patreon</a>

<<set $day to $day or 1>> <<set $time to $time or "Morning">> <<set $Int to $Int or 0>> <<set $Des to $Des or 0>> <<switch $time>> <<case "Morning">> The light through the blinds is pale and steady, warming the air of the small apartment. Some mornings are quiet and slow, others a little more alive with Cam already in the kitchen. You rub the sleep from your eyes, debating how to start the day. <<link "Join Cam in the kitchen">> <<set $time = "Afternoon">> <<goto "KitchenMorning">> <</link>> \ <<link "Keep to yourself this morning">> <<set $time = "Afternoon">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> <<case "Afternoon">> The sun is higher now, spilling into the apartment through half-open curtains. From down the hall you can sometimes hear Cam’s music or the scratch of a brush on canvas. It’s a time that stretches, easy to waste, or easy to wander into something unexpected. <<link "See what Cam’s up to">> <<set $time = "Evening">> <<goto "AfternoonPainting">> <</link>> \ <<link "Do something on your own">> <<set $time = "Evening">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> <<case "Evening">> As the sky deepens into gold and purple, the apartment feels smaller, more lived-in. The smell of takeout sometimes lingers, and the couch practically asks to be claimed. Cam often winds down here, the low glow of the TV filling the space. <<link "Watch a movie with Cam">> <<set $time = "Night">> <<goto "EveningMovie">> <</link>> \ <<link "Head out for a walk">> <<set $time = "Night">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> <<case "Night">> The apartment settles into that late-night hush where every sound feels sharper, the fridge hums, a floorboard creaks, and beyond the windows the city is more shadow than light. Cam sometimes lingers awake, other times disappears to her room without a word. <<link "Check the kitchen before bed">> <<set $day += 1>> <<set $time = "Morning">> <<goto "NightBase">> <</link>> \ <<link "Head straight to your room">> <<set $day += 1>> <<set $time = "Morning">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> <</switch>>

Cam’s still stirring her coffee when you join her at the counter, steam curling between you. “You’re up early,” she says. “Couldn’t sleep,” you reply. “Thought I’d grab coffee before you took it all.” She smirks. “Dangerous game. I don’t share well.” There’s a pause where neither of you rush to fill the space. It’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that feels like the start of a routine. <<if $Int >= 10>> She slides the sugar jar toward you without being asked. “You take two, right?” You blink at her. “You remember that?” She shrugs, sipping her coffee. “I notice things.” <</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>> While you’re drinking, her hip nudges yours lightly. “You make mornings tolerable,” she says, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. She hides it with another sip, but you catch the faint smile that follows. <</if>> <<link "Finish your coffee and head out to start the day">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

The apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak from upstairs. Cam stands at the counter, stirring coffee in a slow, lazy circle. She glances up when you walk in, hair a little messy from sleep. “Morning,” she says, voice still heavy with it. “You’re up early.” “Couldn’t sleep,” you reply, reaching for a mug from the open shelf. “Figured I’d beat you to the coffee for once.” She smirks faintly. “Bold move. I guard the first cup with my life.” You pour your own, the smell sharp and comforting. “Guess I’ll have to live dangerously, then.” There’s a beat where she’s clearly fighting a smile before she takes a sip and leans on the counter, watching you over the rim of her mug. <<link "Ask how she slept (Intimacy)">> <<set $Int += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> \ <<link "Comment on her shirt (Desire)">> <<set $Des += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>\ \ /% Intimacy Milestones %/ <<if $Int >= 5>><<link "Morning Milestone 5 (Intimacy)">><<goto "MorningMilestone5Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 10>><<link "Morning Milestone 10 (Intimacy)">><<goto "MorningMilestone10Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>><<link "Morning Milestone 15 (Intimacy)">><<goto "MorningMilestone15Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>><<link "Morning Milestone 20 (Intimacy)">><<goto "MorningMilestone20Int">><</link>><</if>> \ /% Desire Milestones %/ <<if $Des >= 5>><<link "Morning Milestone 5 (Desire)">><<goto "MorningMilestone5Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 10>><<link "Morning Milestone 10 (Desire)">><<goto "MorningMilestone10Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>><<link "Morning Milestone 15 (Desire)">><<goto "MorningMilestone15Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>><<link "Morning Milestone 20 (Desire)">><<goto "MorningMilestone20Des">><</link>><</if>>

Cam’s already in the kitchen when you walk in, hair pulled into a messy knot, wearing loose sleep shorts that cling just enough when she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She’s buttering toast, hip resting lightly against the counter. “Coffee’s fresh,” she says, not glancing up. You pour yourself a cup, but when she leans forward to grab the sugar, the soft curve of her ass presses against the counter’s edge. It’s a quick movement, nothing deliberate, but your eyes follow before you remember to speak. “Plans today?” she asks, tapping the knife against her plate. You answer, though it’s hard not to notice the way her shorts ride up slightly when she shifts her stance, revealing just enough to keep your focus. <<if $Des >= 10>> She rinses her knife at the sink, stretching her arms out as the thin fabric pulls tighter across her hips. She doesn’t fix the way it sits when she steps back, letting it hang there as she reaches for her mug. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>> She props one foot on the lower cupboard rail, knee bent. The pose angles her hips in a way that makes the loose hem of her shorts slide higher on one thigh. If she feels your eyes on her, she gives no sign, just takes another slow bite of toast. <</if>> <<link "Finish your coffee and get on with the day">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The faint smell of acrylics drifts down the hall when you pass her door. It’s open just enough to see Cam at her easel, brush in hand, sunlight catching on the edges of the canvas. She’s barefoot, one knee pulled up on the stool as she leans forward to add a stroke of color. The music from her speaker is low and steady, some mellow guitar track you can’t place. “Don’t hover,” she says without looking up. “It’s bad luck.” “Didn’t realize artists were superstitious,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not. I just don’t like people breathing on my neck.” There’s a small pause before she glances over her shoulder, lips quirking like she’s trying not to smile. “You can come in, though. Just… no sudden critiques.” You step inside, careful to stay out of the splash zone where tiny dots of paint freckle the floor. <<link "Ask her what she’s painting (Intimacy)">> <<set $Int += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> \ <<link "Comment more on her than the painting (Desire)">> <<set $Des += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>\ \ /% Intimacy Milestones %/ <<if $Int >= 5>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 5 (Intimacy)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone5Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 10>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 10 (Intimacy)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone10Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 15 (Intimacy)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone15Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 20 (Intimacy)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone20Int">><</link>><</if>> \ /% Desire Milestones %/ <<if $Des >= 5>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 5 (Desire)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone5Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 10>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 10 (Desire)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone10Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 15 (Desire)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone15Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>><<link "Afternoon Milestone 20 (Desire)">><<goto "AfternoonMilestone20Des">><</link>><</if>>

You step into the room, careful not to get too close to the paint-splattered tarp beneath her easel. Cam glances at you, then turns the canvas slightly so you can see it better. “It’s my grandmother’s porch,” she says, her tone lighter than usual. “I used to spend summers there. Thought I’d try to paint it before I forget the details.” The image is still rough, but you can make out the faint outline of rocking chairs, the wide railing, and the slant of late afternoon shadows. “Looks like you remember plenty,” you say. She smiles at that, not her usual smirk, but something softer. She dips her brush in the paint again, adding small strokes with a steady hand. “I don’t usually let people watch me this close,” she says quietly. “You make an exception for me?” Her eyes flick up, just for a moment, before she focuses on the canvas again. “Maybe.” <<if $Int >= 10>> She pauses, brush hovering above the canvas. “It’s weird,” she admits, “but… talking about this place makes me miss it more.” Her voice is softer now, the kind that invites you to lean in without realizing it. “Not weird,” you say. “Means it mattered.” She studies you for a moment like she’s weighing whether to say more, then shakes her head with a faint smile. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>> When she dips her brush into the jar, her arm brushes lightly against yours. Neither of you moves away. The smell of paint lingers between you, mingling with the faint scent of her shampoo, and the air feels just a little warmer than before. She doesn’t comment on it, just keeps painting, but the corner of her mouth curves in a way that tells you she noticed. <</if>> <<link "Stay until she finishes the section she’s working on">> <<set $Int += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

The faint smell of acrylics drifts down the hall when you pass her door. Inside, Cam’s perched on her stool, tank loose and paint smudged on her thigh. One leg is tucked under her, shorts tight around her hips as she leans forward to brush a careful line. She doesn’t look up. “You hovering again?” Her tone’s light, but her posture doesn’t change, which only leaves you more aware of the way her body shifts with every stroke of the brush. She finally glances back, eyebrow raised. “Well? Gonna stand there all day, or are you actually watching me work?” <<if $Des >= 10>> Her brush pauses midair. She twists slightly to reach her water jar, and the tank gapes just enough to flash the swell of her breast. She doesn’t notice, or pretends not to, dipping the brush in and swiping a careless streak of color on the canvas. “Don’t tell me you came in here just to breathe on my neck,” she says, smirking faintly. The way she stretches back into position leaves the hem of her shorts riding higher, bare thigh catching the light. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>> She leans back from the easel, stretching her arms above her head with a sigh. The move pulls her tank higher, revealing the flat of her stomach before it falls back into place. She exhales slowly, eyes half-lidded as if lost in her own rhythm, not sparing you a glance. When she finally does, it’s brief, almost challenging, before she turns back to the canvas and drags her brush with slow intent. “You don’t talk much in here,” she murmurs, not unkindly. “Makes it easy to forget you’re even watching.” The way her legs part slightly as she settles back on the stool makes it hard to believe that’s true. <</if>> <<link "Leave her to it and drift back into the hall">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The living room lights are low, the glow of the TV washing over the couch. Cam’s sprawled at one end, blanket draped over her legs, a bowl of popcorn within arm’s reach. “You took your time,” she says, eyes still on the opening credits. “Had to find the perfect seat,” you reply, dropping onto the other end of the couch. She flicks a piece of popcorn at you without looking. “You’re lucky I started without you.” The movie’s just background noise for a while, the only sounds being the quiet crunch of popcorn and the occasional laugh from her at something on screen. <<link "Make a comment about the movie (Intimacy)">> <<set $Int += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> \ <<link "Make a teasing comment about her hogging the blanket (Desire)">> <<set $Des += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>\ \ /% Intimacy Milestones %/ <<if $Int >= 5>><<link "Evening Milestone 5 (Intimacy)">><<goto "EveningMilestone5Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 10>><<link "Evening Milestone 10 (Intimacy)">><<goto "EveningMilestone10Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>><<link "Evening Milestone 15 (Intimacy)">><<goto "EveningMilestone15Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>><<link "Evening Milestone 20 (Intimacy)">><<goto "EveningMilestone20Int">><</link>><</if>> \ /% Desire Milestones %/ <<if $Des >= 5>><<link "Evening Milestone 5 (Desire)">><<goto "EveningMilestone5Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 10>><<link "Evening Milestone 10 (Desire)">><<goto "EveningMilestone10Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>><<link "Evening Milestone 15 (Desire)">><<goto "EveningMilestone15Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>><<link "Evening Milestone 20 (Desire)">><<goto "EveningMilestone20Des">><</link>><</if>>

You sink deeper into the couch, letting the warmth from the blanket and the smell of popcorn ease the day away. Cam shifts slightly, turning toward you. “So,” she says, voice low over the sound of the movie, “how’s day… what are we on, three? Four?” “Somewhere in there,” you reply. “I think it’s going well.” She smiles faintly. “Not bad, considering I’ve barely scared you off yet.” There’s an easy rhythm to the back-and-forth, little jabs that land soft, the kind that make you realize how quickly comfort can grow. <<if $Int >= 10>> She tugs the blanket so it covers both of you, her arm brushing against yours. “Figured you looked cold,” she says, though her tone makes it sound more like a half-joke. The warmth is immediate, not just from the blanket, and you catch yourself glancing at her profile more than the TV. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>> Cam leans a little closer, resting her head against the back of the couch near your shoulder. Her voice drops even softer. “You’re easier to hang out with than I expected.” There’s a quick glance up, her eyes catching yours before she looks back at the screen. It’s nothing big, but it leaves a quiet, lingering charge in the air. <</if>> <<link "Watch the rest of the movie before calling it a night">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

You notice her blanket has slipped enough to bare the curve of her thigh, catching the glow from the TV. Cam tosses another piece of popcorn in her mouth, eyes never leaving the screen. “You’re quiet over there.” “Just watching the movie,” you say, though your gaze lingers a second too long. Her lips twitch, like maybe she caught it, but she just pulls the blanket up again without comment, whether that’s to hide or tease, you can’t tell. <<if $Des >= 10>> She shifts under the blanket, and this time her knee nudges against yours, staying there. The warmth of the contact isn’t accidental, you’re sure, but she doesn’t say a word about it, just keeps watching, a faint smirk barely visible in the flickering light. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>> Cam leans forward to grab the popcorn bowl, and for a moment the blanket slips again, more than before. If she notices your gaze, she doesn’t let on, but she takes her time settling back in, like she’s daring you to look again. <</if>> <<link "Return to DayHub">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

The apartment is quiet in that late-night way where every sound carries, the hum of the fridge, the faint creak of floorboards. Cam’s in the kitchen in loose sleep shorts and a tank top, leaning over the counter with a glass of water in hand. She glances at you as you step in. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not yet,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Figured I’d grab something before bed.” She nods toward the cabinet. “Cups are on the left. Don’t wake me up with a blender or anything.” You grab a glass, the two of you sharing the quiet. It’s not awkward, just a moment that could go anywhere. <<link "Ask how her day really went (Intimacy)">> <<set $Int += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>> \ <<link "Make a teasing remark about her late-night look (Desire)">> <<set $Des += 1>> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>\ \ /% Intimacy Milestones %/ <<if $Int >= 5>><<link "Night Milestone 5 (Intimacy)">><<goto "NightMilestone5Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 10>><<link "Night Milestone 10 (Intimacy)">><<goto "NightMilestone10Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>><<link "Night Milestone 15 (Intimacy)">><<goto "NightMilestone15Int">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>><<link "Night Milestone 20 (Intimacy)">><<goto "NightMilestone20Int">><</link>><</if>> \ /% Desire Milestones %/ <<if $Des >= 5>><<link "Night Milestone 5 (Desire)">><<goto "NightMilestone5Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 10>><<link "Night Milestone 10 (Desire)">><<goto "NightMilestone10Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>><<link "Night Milestone 15 (Desire)">><<goto "NightMilestone15Des">><</link>><</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>><<link "Night Milestone 20 (Desire)">><<goto "NightMilestone20Des">><</link>><</if>>

Cam leans against the counter, glass of water in hand, the soft kitchen light making her look more relaxed than you’ve seen all day. “So,” she says, “did today live up to expectations?” You shrug with a faint smile. “It was… interesting. In a good way.” She tips her head, studying you. “That sounds like someone holding back details.” “Maybe I am,” you say, meeting her gaze. She smiles, not pressing further, but the look lingers, curious, warm. <<if $Int >= 10>> She sets her glass down and crosses her arms loosely. “You’re easy to talk to, you know. Not everyone’s like that.” You chuckle. “Guess we got lucky, then.” Her smile widens just a bit, but she doesn’t disagree. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 15>> Cam steps past you toward the sink, brushing your shoulder lightly. “Alright,” she says softly, “I’ll give you the full review of the day tomorrow.” The tone is playful, but there’s an edge of familiarity there, like she’s quietly inviting more moments like this. <</if>> <<link "Finish your drink and head to bed">> <<goto "DayHub">> <</link>>

The apartment is dark except for the faint glow of the hall light. On your way to get water, you catch sight of Cam in the living room. She’s stretched out on the couch, legs curled under a thin blanket that’s slipped down to her waist. Her tank top hangs loose, riding up enough to expose a line of skin along her stomach. One arm drapes over her eyes, hair spilling across the pillow. She shifts slightly, the blanket sliding further, and you catch the edge of her shorts riding high on her thigh. Her breathing is steady, slow, she might even be asleep. You linger in the doorway longer than you should, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound between you. <<if $Des >= 10>> Her arm slips away from her face as she stirs, not fully awake, just turning over. The motion makes her shirt slide, a curve of her breast briefly outlined before she settles again. She doesn’t notice you there, her chest rising slow and even as she drifts deeper into rest. The fabric clings more than it should in the faint light, hinting at every line. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 15>> She rolls onto her side, back to you now, the blanket bunched at her waist. The shorts are tugged tight against the shape of her ass, one leg bent just enough to leave a subtle gap at the hem. Her shirt has ridden up, bare skin showing where it meets her hip. She exhales softly, a sound so faint it nearly blends with the hum of the fridge. It feels too private, too intimate, yet you don’t move, caught in the quiet pull of the moment. <</if>> <<link "Step away quietly">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The kitchen is bathed in pale morning light, soft streaks coming through the blinds and stretching across the counter. Cam stands with her mug cradled in both hands, hair messy and one sleeve of her shirt slipping down her shoulder. She looks more undone than usual, less of the smirk, more of the sleepy realness. “You’re up early again,” she says, her voice still rough with sleep. You shrug, pouring coffee into your own mug. “Guess I’m trying to keep up with you.” She smirks faintly, shaking her head. “Good luck. I’m a menace before breakfast.” The two of you linger in the small kitchen, sipping from your mugs. There’s a kind of ease in it, like you’ve already slipped into a rhythm together, even if you can’t quite name it yet. Her gaze drifts toward you, longer this time. Not just the casual glance of a roommate, but something with weight behind it. “You’re easy to talk to in the mornings,” she admits quietly. “Is that a compliment?” you ask, raising a brow. She shrugs, lips twitching in a half-smile. “Don’t get used to it.” <<if $Int >= 15>> Her hand brushes yours when she takes the sugar jar, the contact deliberate enough to register but casual enough to deny. She doesn’t apologize, and when you glance up, her eyes hold yours for a second too long. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>> She leans against the counter beside you, shoulder just barely touching yours. “You know,” she says softly, “I don’t usually let people into my mornings. It’s… weirdly nice.” The admission lingers in the quiet, weighty and vulnerable. <</if>> <<link "Sip your coffee and let the moment linger">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The coffee is still steaming when you join Cam at the counter. She’s perched on a stool this time, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling lazily through her phone. She glances up when you sit down, her expression softer than usual, like she hasn’t fully built her guard back up yet. “Morning,” she says, and her voice is gentle in a way that feels like it’s meant just for you. “Morning,” you echo. You settle in beside her, the space between you narrow enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her bare leg brushing close to yours. She sets her phone aside, fingers curling around her mug. “You know what’s weird?” she says. “I didn’t think I’d like having someone around this much. But you don’t feel like… noise.” You glance at her, surprised by the honesty. “Noise?” “Yeah,” she says, shrugging a little. “Like most people take up space. Too much. But with you… it’s different. Feels easy.” The words hang there, warm and intimate. You catch her watching you, her lips parted slightly like she wants to say more but doesn’t. <<if $Int >= 20>> She leans forward, her arm brushing against yours as she pretends to reach for the coffee pot she doesn’t need. She lingers in the closeness before pulling back with a small smile, eyes locked on yours. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 25>> Her hand comes down lightly on your forearm, a soft touch that seems more instinct than choice. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she teases faintly, though the way her thumb lingers makes the joke fall thin. <</if>> <<link "Finish breakfast together">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The kitchen smells faintly of coffee and toast when Cam steps in, hair damp from the shower, shirt clinging slightly at the shoulders where the water hasn’t dried. She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe doesn’t care, as she drops into the stool across from you with her mug. “You’re becoming a fixture in my mornings,” she says, her voice light but edged with something more. “Fixture?” you ask, raising a brow. She smirks faintly, swirling her spoon in her mug. “Like part of the furniture. But… better looking.” The flirtation is subtle, but the way her eyes hold yours makes it clear it’s not just a throwaway line. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say. “You should,” she replies, and for once, there’s no sarcasm trailing after the words. Just honesty. The silence that follows feels charged, humming beneath the casual surface of mugs and spoons. She leans forward on her elbows, chin resting in her hand, her gaze steady on you. <<if $Int >= 25>> Her foot brushes yours under the table, not by accident. She doesn’t move it right away, letting the contact linger like a wordless choice. Her smile is soft, private, the kind that makes it hard to look anywhere else. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 30>> She reaches across the counter, fingers lightly tracing your wrist as if testing a boundary. “You know,” she says, almost in a whisper, “I kind of like this routine.” The warmth of her touch makes it clear she means more than just coffee. <</if>> <<link "Share breakfast before the day moves on">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam’s at the counter when you step in, shorts slung low on her hips, tank top loose from sleep. She stirs her coffee lazily, leaning forward just enough that the thin fabric of her top shifts and hints at the curve of her chest beneath. “Morning,” she says, her voice still scratchy. She doesn’t turn when you grab a mug, just tilts her head slightly in acknowledgment. You steal a glance, the way the tank dips when she leans, the way her shorts stretch when she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She grabs her mug, brushing past you to the fridge, her hip grazing yours before she opens the door. “You’ve been up long?” she asks, pulling out the milk. “Not really,” you answer. “You?” She shrugs, pouring a little into her cup. “Couldn’t get comfortable. Too warm, maybe.” She leans against the counter to sip her coffee, one ankle crossed over the other. The position makes her tank hang looser, the neckline slipping just enough to tease another glance before she adjusts her cup and drinks. <<if $Des >= 15>> She yawns, stretching both arms overhead, the hem of her tank lifting to bare a line of stomach while her chest presses against the thin fabric. Her shorts tug higher as she rises on her toes, the move unhurried, like she’s in no rush to settle back down. When she finally lowers her arms, she meets your eye briefly, calm, unreadable, before going back to her coffee. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>> When she settles into a chair at the table, she tucks one leg up beneath her, the hem of her shorts riding higher across her thigh. Her tank dips as she leans forward to check something on her phone, loose fabric draping just enough to give you another view. She scrolls absently, hair falling in her face, completely at ease, like she knows exactly how she looks without acknowledging it. <</if>> <<link "Finish your coffee and get on with the day">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam’s at the counter again, this time pouring cereal straight from the box into a bowl. Her tank has slipped off one shoulder, loose fabric barely clinging as she leans forward over the counter. The angle makes the neckline dip lower, giving you a clear view of the curve beneath. “Breakfast of champions,” she mutters, shaking the box until too much spills. She laughs under her breath, brushing stray flakes off the counter with the flat of her hand. The motion makes the hem of her shorts ride higher, the fabric stretched tight across her ass as she bends. You answer with a wry, “Looks gourmet,” though your attention keeps sliding back to her posture, her bare legs shifting against the stool as she sits. She props her elbow on the table and digs into the cereal, hair falling forward. The way the neckline hangs, the way her knee angles outward, it all feels a little careless. Or maybe it isn’t. <<if $Des >= 20>> She pushes her bowl aside halfway through, leaning back in the chair. The motion makes her chest arch against the thin cotton, nipples faintly visible in the soft morning light. Her leg hooks lazily over the opposite chair rung, shorts tugging tight. She doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that you’re across from her watching. Her eyes flick up just once, steady but unreadable, before she goes back to idly stirring her spoon in the milk. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 25>> She sets the empty bowl in the sink and stretches long, arms overhead, the loose neckline gaping wide with the motion. When she drops her arms, she yawns and rubs the back of her neck, her tank slipping lower against her chest. She doesn’t fix it, leaving the curve of her breast caught in your peripheral. She leans one hip against the counter, shorts snug as she shifts her weight, sipping slowly from her coffee like she’s in no rush to move. The silence feels heavier now, not uncomfortable, but full of something unspoken. <</if>> <<link "Finish breakfast and get on with the day">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam’s already at the counter when you step in, hair tied up messily, tank loose on her frame. She’s bent slightly as she pours coffee, shorts clinging higher across her ass with the way she leans. The faint light through the blinds sketches along her legs, bare and unhurried. “Morning,” she says, casual as ever, blowing on her mug before sipping. She doesn’t move from where she’s standing, letting the tank shift loosely against her chest as she turns to glance your way. You reach for your own cup, trying to keep your focus on the coffee, though your eyes trace the long lines of her thighs when she crosses one over the other, weight sinking into her hip. “You always this quiet before caffeine?” she teases, leaning her back to the counter, the tank slipping lower against her chest. She doesn’t fix it, sipping again like it doesn’t matter. <<if $Des >= 25>> She sets her mug down and stretches out her arms behind her, bracing her palms against the counter edge. The move arches her chest forward, neckline falling dangerously low. Her shorts tighten as she tilts her hips just slightly, one leg sliding lazily over the other. “Long night,” she adds with a small shrug, eyes half-lidded as if the morning is moving slower for her than for you. The ease of it all makes the silence heavy, every detail daring you to look longer. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 30>> When she finally moves, it’s slower than usual, deliberate. She turns to rinse her mug, back arched slightly, fabric riding up and giving you a full view of her ass under the hem of her shorts. Her hair falls forward as she leans over the sink, tank hanging low enough to show the curve of her breasts when she tilts. She hums to herself, not acknowledging you, but the casual exposure feels anything but accidental. When she finally straightens, she only says, “You want the rest of the coffee?” as if the moment never happened. <</if>> <<link "Finish your coffee and let the day move on">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam’s in the same spot when you step in, paint flecked on her hand, the canvas already layered in color. Her shorts ride up as she shifts on the stool, thigh pressing against the edge, bare skin catching the sunlight. “You again,” she says without turning, voice almost amused. “Starting to think you’re my shadow.” Her brush glides slow across the canvas, wrist flicking with practiced ease. The tank hangs loose, swaying just enough when she leans in. You stand just inside the room, the faint hum of her music underlining the silence. It’s easy to forget the painting’s supposed to be the point, when everything about her posture keeps pulling your eyes back. <<if $Des >= 15>> She sets the brush down to swap for another, leaning forward as she does. The neckline dips, exposing a soft curve before the fabric falls back into place. Without comment, she drags the stool an inch closer to the canvas, one leg stretching out long and bare, toes curling against the paint-flecked floor. “You know,” she says lazily, “most people would get bored watching this.” The smirk in her voice suggests she knows you aren’t. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>> After a while, she leans back, exhaling as she studies the canvas. The tank clings faintly with the motion, tracing the shape of her chest before loosening again. She props her elbow on the stool’s back, twisting slightly so her hips angle toward you. The shift leaves the line of her shorts higher than before, skimming just below the curve of her ass. “I should kick you out,” she says lightly, lips quirking. “Feels like I’m on display.” But she doesn’t move to shut the door, only dips the brush back into the jar, turning back with an easy shrug that makes it hard to believe she minds at all. <</if>> <<link "Step back out into the hall">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam’s painting when you step inside, her focus sharp on the canvas. The brush moves in long, deliberate strokes, but it’s her posture that draws your eye. She’s perched on the stool, back arched slightly as she leans in, the loose tank sliding against her chest. One strap slips lower than the other, hanging carelessly on her shoulder. “You’re quiet,” she says after a moment, not looking back. Her voice is calm, unhurried. “Guess that’s better than hovering in the doorway.” The air feels warm, filled with the smell of paint and the low strum of her music. She shifts to rinse her brush, the hem of her shorts riding higher on her thigh with the movement. <<if $Des >= 20>> She props one leg up on the stool rung, resting her arm casually across her knee. The motion pulls her shorts tight, shaping the curve of her hip and ass where the light hits. When she leans forward again, the tank gapes wide at the neckline, the faintest outline of her breast visible in the angle. She hums softly to herself, still painting, as though the reveal is nothing at all. “You ever get tired of standing there?” she asks absently. “I’d think your legs would give out by now.” The tease lands lightly, but she never looks back to see your answer. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 25>> She pauses to study the canvas, lips pursed in thought, and stretches back with a slow roll of her shoulders. The tank rides high enough to bare her stomach, ribs shifting with the inhale. Her hand brushes absently at her chest where the strap slipped low, but she doesn’t fix it, letting the fabric hang loose as she lifts her brush again. When her eyes flick briefly toward you, they don’t linger, but the smallest curve at the corner of her mouth suggests she knows exactly where your focus has been. Still, she only turns back to the painting, dragging a slow, deliberate stroke of color down the canvas. “You’re not distracting me,” she says finally, almost a whisper, though the smirk in her voice betrays her. <</if>> <<link "Slip back out of her room">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Her room smells faintly of acrylic and turpentine, the air warm from the afternoon sun. Cam sits cross-legged on the stool this time, balanced effortlessly as she layers another wash of color onto the canvas. The tank she’s wearing is loose, the neckline dipping low enough that each lean forward shifts it a little more. She doesn’t glance back when you step inside, though her voice is steady. “Thought you’d wander in eventually. You always do.” Her brush moves slow and deliberate, but her body seems to hold just as much rhythm as her work, the stretch of her back, the casual curve of her leg, the subtle way her shorts cling when she adjusts her seat. <<if $Des >= 25>> She stretches her arm above her head, tugging her tank down in the process, though not quite enough to fix how it already hangs loose. The fabric pools at one side, exposing the curve of her breast where the strap’s slipped further down. She yawns softly, unbothered, before leaning forward again, ass tightening against the edge of the stool as she steadies herself. “Gonna say something, or just watch?” she asks absently, though her tone makes it sound less like irritation and more like amusement. Her eyes stay on the canvas, never once breaking focus, as though you’re nothing more than background noise… yet the way she sits feels almost staged. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 30>> She twists to grab a new brush from the shelf behind her, moving slowly, giving you the clean line of her profile and the sway of her chest under the thin fabric. When she bends slightly to rummage in a drawer, her shorts ride high, clinging to the curve of her ass before she settles back on the stool. For a heartbeat, her gaze flicks toward you, not long, not enough to call it out, but just enough to let the silence stretch. Then she looks back to the canvas, lips tugging upward at the corner. “Don’t hover too close. I’ll start charging rent for the view.” Her brush returns to the canvas with a deliberate slowness, as if she’s savoring the weight of your attention. <</if>> <<link "Step quietly back into the hall">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie drones on, background noise more than anything else. Cam has the blanket pulled up, but it doesn’t stay in place, every shift, every stretch pulls it lower until it’s just a heap over her knees. She curls one leg up onto the couch, resting her arm lazily across it. The motion tilts her hips slightly, the fabric of her shorts riding tight against the curve of her ass. She doesn’t glance at you, doesn’t say a word, just keeps her eyes on the screen as though she hasn’t noticed a thing. When she leans forward to grab her drink, the neckline of her shirt dips with her, loose enough that the faint swell of her breast presses forward. She sits back again without adjusting, sipping slowly. <<if $Des >= 15>> She exhales softly, shifting again until she’s lying across the couch with her legs stretched out, toes brushing near your thigh. The movement pulls her shirt higher, baring a sliver of stomach. Her voice is low, almost lazy. “This movie’s not exactly keeping me awake.” She doesn’t sound bored so much as comfortable, her tone carrying that same easy casualness that makes every careless reveal feel intentional. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>> She props herself on one elbow now, half-turned toward you. The shirt slips down her shoulder completely, leaving her collarbone bare, the thin strap hanging uselessly at her arm. She doesn’t pull it back up. Instead, she holds your gaze for just a second before looking away, smirking faintly at nothing in particular. “Relax,” she says softly, as if she’s caught you tense. “It’s just a movie.” But the way she settles again, the rise of her chest outlined in the glow, the drape of her shorts along her thighs, makes it anything but. <</if>> <<link "Let the movie play on">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie flickers across the screen, but Cam has shifted again, this time sliding closer, until her leg brushes lightly against yours. She doesn’t move away, just stays there like it’s the most natural thing. She pulls the blanket higher, though only over her lap, leaving most of her legs bare. Her thigh presses firmer to yours when she adjusts, eyes still glued to the TV. “Not bad for background noise,” she murmurs, sipping her drink, her voice calm and unconcerned. The hem of her shorts rides up with the angle of her seat, the curve of her hip visible in the dim light. She stretches her arms overhead before settling back, tank shifting loose enough to frame the faint outline of her chest. <<if $Des >= 20>> Her head tips slightly toward you, hair brushing your arm as she leans back against the cushion. “You’re quiet,” she says, though there’s no weight behind it. More like an observation than a complaint. Her thigh shifts against yours again, not pulling away this time, her warmth staying pressed against you as if by design. The glow of the TV flickers across her chest, each rise and fall of her breath exaggerated by the thin fabric of her tank. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 25>> She tucks her feet up onto the couch, turning her body more toward yours. The movement brings her knee over your leg, the rest of her settling half across the cushions. Her shirt slides with her, collar sagging enough that the swell of one breast is clear in the dim light. She doesn’t fix it, just pulls the blanket loosely around her waist. “Hope you don’t mind sharing space,” she mutters, almost amused, though she makes no effort to shift back. Her chest rises close with each breath, and the weight of her thigh across yours is unmistakable. <</if>> <<link "Stay still and watch">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie might as well not even be playing. Cam has taken over most of the couch, leaning into your side with her head resting loosely against your shoulder. Her shirt has slipped low again, hanging off one shoulder entirely, and the way she curls against you makes the shape of her chest press faintly through the fabric. She doesn’t comment, doesn’t move to fix it. Instead, she reaches for the blanket, tugging it carelessly over both of you. Her bare thigh brushes along yours with each subtle shift. “Comfy,” she murmurs, almost to herself, eyes never leaving the screen. <<if $Des >= 25>> Her hand drapes on the couch cushion near yours, fingers brushing against the back of your knuckles now and then. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t acknowledge the contact. Just lets her touch linger there, feather-light, as if it’s accidental. But when you glance at her, the faintest smirk plays at the corner of her lips. Her breathing slows, chest rising steady against the thin fabric of her tank, the soft outline of her body visible with every subtle shift. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 30>> By now she’s half against you, half sprawled across the cushions, one knee brushing over your thigh. The blanket has slipped again, baring the length of her legs all the way up to where the shorts cling tight against her hips. Her head tips just enough that her lips hover near your shoulder, her hair brushing your cheek. She exhales, low and steady. “You’re warm,” she mutters softly, almost teasing, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she stays pressed close, every line of her body molded to yours, as if she’s long since decided this is her space too. <</if>> <<link "Stay close under the blanket">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The kitchen is dark, lit only by the glow of the fridge. You stop short when you see Cam already there, barefoot, rummaging lazily for something to drink. She’s in a loose tank and shorts, her hair messy from sleep. When she bends forward into the fridge, the shirt gapes slightly, the curve of her breast just visible in the cold light. She pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the fridge with her hip, and leans against the counter to take a sip. Her shorts cling to the line of her thighs, the hem creeping up as she shifts her weight. She doesn’t notice you watching from the hall. The casual, unthinking way she moves makes the moment feel sharper, more private. <<if $Des >= 15>> She reaches up for a top shelf glass. The tank lifts at the side, teasing a softer line beneath before it falls back. Her toes curl against the tile like she is grounding herself, and the motion tightens the seat of her shorts across the curve of her ass. She scratches absently at her hip under the shirt, not fixing the way it hangs low after. The fridge light paints a pale edge along her chest as she tilts the bottle again. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 20>> She sets the bottle down and turns the tap for a moment, bracing her palms on the counter. The posture arches her back slightly, the loose fabric of her tank draping forward as water runs. When she shuts the fridge, the light dies and the room slips back to dim. She drifts past the doorway without looking, shoulder nearly grazing the frame, the hem of her shorts riding high on her thigh. A faint note of soap follows in her wake as she pads down the hall. <</if>> <<link "Slip back toward your room">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

You wake in the middle of the night, thirsty, and pad quietly toward the kitchen. Halfway down the hall, you freeze. Cam’s door is open wider than usual. She’s curled on her side on the bed, one leg bent, the blanket tangled low at her hips. Her shirt has ridden up, baring a stretch of her stomach and the curve of her waist. Her shorts are loose, tugged high on one side from the way she’s twisted in sleep, exposing the soft outline of her ass in the lamplight. Her breathing is steady, deep. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t shift, unaware of the view the open door gives the hall. <<if $Des >= 20>> Her phone buzzes once against the nightstand and she turns in her sleep, rolling onto her back. The motion carries the blanket another inch down, her shirt sliding higher so the fabric frames the line of her ribs. She exhales and drifts sideways again, the leg that was bent extending long before tucking back. The loose shorts settle low on her hip, the top seam tracing the lift of her rear before she goes still. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 25>> She drifts onto her other side with a soft sigh. One strap slips off her shoulder and stays there, the neckline dipping just enough to suggest more in the warm lamp glow. The blanket bunches at her knees, leaving the length of her legs bare. When she draws her knee higher, the shorts hitch again, baring more of the lower curve where they cling. Her hand finds the pillow without waking, fingers relaxed, and the door remains open to the quiet hall. <</if>> <<link "Move on before the floor creaks">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The apartment is quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the clock. On your way back from the bathroom, you notice Cam’s door open a crack. The lamplight spills into the hallway in a warm strip, catching your eye. She’s sprawled on her bed, clearly not expecting anyone to pass by. A loose shirt clings to her chest, no bra underneath, the fabric outlining her curves as she stretches her arms above her head. The hem has ridden up her stomach, exposing the band of her boyshorts where they hug her hips. She sighs, shifting lazily, one leg bent, the shape of her ass pressed tight against the fabric. She scrolls on her phone, completely absorbed, oblivious to the open door. <<if $Des >= 25>> She rolls onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. The shirt droops low, loose enough that you catch a glimpse of the swell of her breasts as the fabric hangs forward. Her legs kick idly at the air, shorts riding higher with each lazy motion until nearly half her ass is bare in the lamplight. She doesn’t close the door, doesn’t adjust her clothes, she just stays there, lost in whatever’s on her screen. <</if>> <<if $Des >= 30>> She shifts again, rolling halfway onto her side, the motion careless in its exposure. The shirt slips further, baring one breast almost entirely in the glow of the lamp before she tugs it half-heartedly back into place. Not enough to really cover, just enough to tease. Her eyes flick toward the door once, briefly, like she knows it’s open, but she doesn’t move to close it. Instead, she sets her phone aside, curling back onto her side, the line of her body framed in quiet invitation. <</if>> <<link "Step away before she notices">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam is bent slightly over her canvas, brush dragging in careful, fluid strokes. Her hair falls forward, a stray strand brushing her cheek until she tucks it back with paint-smudged fingers. “You can sit, you know,” she says without looking, nodding at the stool nearby. “Less weird than you hovering in the doorway.” You take the seat, and for a moment, the silence is comfortable, the faint scratch of brush against canvas, the lazy rhythm of her music. She glances sideways at you, the corner of her mouth pulling up. “I don’t usually let people in here when I’m painting. Feels like… showing too much.” You lean an elbow on your knee. “And yet here I am.” That earns a soft laugh, light and genuine. “Guess you’re the exception. Don’t make me regret it.” When she shifts back to check her progress, her shoulder brushes yours briefly, unintentional, but she doesn’t move away right away. You catch the warmth, the faint smell of paint and her shampoo mingling. <<if $Int >= 15>> She leans back, studying the canvas, but her voice drops softer. “You’re easy to have around. Not distracting in the wrong ways.” Her eyes flick to you and linger a beat too long before she looks away again. “It’s… nice.” <</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>> Her brush pauses midair. This time when she looks at you, she doesn’t try to cover it with a smirk. “You know… I keep catching myself watching you instead of the canvas.” She laughs under her breath, shaking her head. “Don’t read too much into it.” But the faint color rising on her cheeks betrays more than she says. <</if>> <<link "Let her get back to painting">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam steps back from her canvas, brush tucked behind her ear as she studies her work. A streak of blue smears across her temple, and she doesn’t notice. “You’ve been quiet,” she says, finally turning toward you. “What’s going on in that head?” You shrug lightly. “Mostly wondering if I should tell you you’ve got paint on your face.” She blinks, then huffs out a laugh. “Of course I do.” She goes to wipe it with the back of her hand, only making it worse. “Here,” you say, reaching without thinking. Your thumb brushes her skin as you wipe away the streak. Her breath catches faintly, and when your eyes meet, the air in the room feels heavier. Cam clears her throat, suddenly fidgeting with the brush. “Thanks. Guess I needed that.” She moves back toward her canvas, but not before giving you a glance that lingers, a silent acknowledgment that the moment meant something. <<if $Int >= 20>> She sets her brush down completely, leaning against the easel instead of painting. “You’re not like most people who hang around me. They either act impressed or get bored. You just… sit. Watch. Listen.” Her gaze dips to your hand for the briefest moment before finding your eyes again. “It’s… steadying. Like I can breathe.” <</if>> <<if $Int >= 25>> Her hand lingers on the easel, but her focus is entirely on you now. “You ever realize you’re letting someone closer than you meant to?” she asks softly. Before you can answer, she steps just close enough that you feel the brush of her knee against yours. Her voice drops. “And you’re not sure if you should stop them.” Her eyes flicker down to your mouth for a split second before she turns back to the canvas, cheeks warm, pretending to busy herself again. But the line has been crossed. <</if>> <<link "Give her space to return to painting">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

Cam leans back from her canvas, setting the brush in the jar of cloudy water. She rolls her shoulders, the tension easing as she exhales. “Alright,” she says, tilting her head at you. “I’ve been painting for hours, and you’ve just been… sitting there. Patient. Quiet. You’re not making this easy.” You arch a brow. “Easy how?” She hesitates, lips pressing together like she’s debating whether to say it. Finally, she sighs, a laugh tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Like forgetting you’re right there. I keep… noticing you. And I hate how much that throws me off.” The words hang between you, heavier than the paint fumes. You shift slightly closer, not breaking eye contact. “Noticed, huh?” Cam’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t look away. “Don’t let it go to your head.” The silence after is charged, not awkward, but expectant. For the first time, she doesn’t move to her canvas. She stays there, facing you. <<if $Int >= 25>> Her voice softens, almost a whisper. “You ever wonder if this was supposed to feel different? Roommates, I mean.” She lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Because it doesn’t feel like just that.” Her hand brushes your arm, feather-light, like she’s testing how far she can go without breaking something fragile. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 30>> Her hand lingers this time. She meets your eyes with a mix of caution and something braver, something wanting. “You make this harder than it should be,” she admits. And before doubt can cut in, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours in a brief, tentative kiss. When she pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, and she mutters, “Don’t make it weird,” before pretending to fuss with her brushes. But the way her fingers tremble gives her away. <</if>> <<link "Let the moment settle and leave her to her painting">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie flickers in the dim living room, shadows crawling across the walls while the hum of dialogue fills the silence. Cam is curled into the couch, legs folded beneath her, balancing the popcorn bowl on one knee. Every time she reaches for a handful, a few kernels threaten to spill, but she doesn’t seem bothered. You find yourself glancing at her more than the screen. Something about the way she’s sitting, so comfortable, makes her feel less like a stranger and more like someone you’ve known longer. “You’re not even watching,” she says suddenly, catching your wandering eyes. There’s a smirk tugging at her lips, sharp enough to cut but softened by the warmth in her tone. “Neither are you,” you shoot back, without hesitation. Her grin widens, and she flicks a kernel of popcorn at your chest. It bounces off harmlessly, and she lets out a laugh, not loud, but genuine, the kind that makes you feel like you’ve won something small but important. For a moment, the tension shifts. You’re not just two people thrown together by circumstance. The couch feels smaller, the room quieter, as if the rest of the world has slipped outside the walls. “You know,” she says, nudging the bowl onto the table, “I didn’t think you’d be this easy to get along with.” You raise an eyebrow. “Easy?” She shrugs one shoulder, leaning back against the cushion. “Yeah. Most people either talk too much, or they don’t talk at all. You’re… balanced. Surprising.” You chuckle, unsure how else to respond, but the warmth in her voice lingers. She doesn’t look at you directly, but there’s something in the way she tilts her body, angled slightly your way, that feels like an invitation, even if she hasn’t realized it herself yet. <<if $Int >= 15>> Her knee brushes yours as she shifts again, not moving away this time. The contact is brief but deliberate enough that you notice the choice behind it. She steals another look at you, less guarded now, and the playfulness in her eyes softens into something steadier. “You’re alright, you know that?” she says, and though it’s delivered casually, the sincerity in her tone lands heavier than she intends. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>> She leans forward, closer to the glow of the TV, her hair falling across her shoulder until it brushes lightly against yours. The touch is feather-soft, almost accidental, but she doesn’t pull back. “You’re making this too easy,” she mutters, so quiet you almost miss it. Her eyes stay on the screen, but the slight curl at the corner of her lips betrays her. <</if>> <<link "Settle back and keep watching">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie pushes on, though neither of you are really invested. Cam sets the popcorn bowl aside, brushing crumbs from her fingers before curling sideways against the couch. She tucks her legs beneath herself, elbow resting on the back cushion, and shoots you a look that’s equal parts amused and challenging. “You sit like a soldier,” she teases, her eyes flicking down to how straight your posture is. “Relax before you sprain something.” You roll your eyes but adjust, letting your shoulders sink into the cushions. “Better?” “Barely,” she says with a laugh, though her expression softens when your frame loosens beside her. The teasing fades into something gentler, and she doesn’t pull back when her shoulder brushes yours. The contact lingers, as natural as the rhythm of your breathing. “You see?” she murmurs after a pause, her voice quiet, the kind people use when they don’t want to admit they’re saying something real. “Not so hard.” The silence that follows feels heavier, but not uncomfortable. It’s charged, like both of you are waiting for the other to move first. The glow of the TV paints faint lines across her face, and you catch yourself staring, not just at her, but at the way she’s allowing the closeness without question. <<if $Int >= 20>> Her head tilts slowly until it rests against your shoulder. At first, it seems casual, like she’s only shifting for comfort, but the way she exhales when she settles makes it feel more deliberate. Her cheek rests lightly against you, and though she keeps her gaze forward, the quiet between you deepens into something more personal. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 25>> Her voice comes softer, almost carried away by the hum of the movie. “This doesn’t really feel like just watching a movie anymore.” Her cheek presses into your shoulder with more certainty, as if admitting the thought out loud requires her to ground herself against you. She doesn’t meet your eyes, but the warmth of her leaning closer says more than her words do. <</if>> <<link "Stay close and let the moment stretch">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The movie has blurred into background noise, forgotten as the minutes tick by. Cam shifts again, this time decisively, her body leaning closer until her thigh brushes against yours. The contact isn’t subtle. It lingers, sending a small current through the quiet space between you. “You know,” she says, voice low but tinged with humor, “this is the part where roommates are supposed to keep a polite distance.” You smirk. “Guess we’re not doing so hot at following the rules.” She huffs out a laugh, though it’s more breath than sound. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” For a moment, she doesn’t look at the screen at all. Her attention is on you, her gaze steady, thoughtful, almost searching. The glow of the TV softens her features, painting her in warmth you know isn’t just the lighting. “I didn’t expect this,” she admits quietly, her words more to herself than to you. “Not this soon.” You want to ask what she means, but the weight of her eyes holds you in place, and it feels like any answer would be unnecessary. <<if $Int >= 25>> She leans in closer, her shoulder brushing yours again, hair falling forward until you catch the faint scent of her shampoo. For the briefest moment, her gaze flickers downward, to your mouth, before she pulls it back up. The pause feels like it lasts forever, though it’s only a heartbeat. She doesn’t say anything, but the unspoken is loud. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 30>> Her hand drifts across the couch cushion, brushing against yours. At first, it seems accidental, but then her fingers lace between yours, squeezing gently as if anchoring herself to the choice. “Don’t make me regret this,” she whispers, her voice fragile but firm. And before you can reply, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours, slow, hesitant, but unmistakably real. <</if>> <<link "Stay in the warmth of the moment">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The apartment has gone quiet for the night, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional car passing outside. Cam lingers by the hallway, leaning against the wall in a loose T-shirt that hangs just past her hips. “You turning in?” she asks, her voice low, softer than usual, the kind of tone people use when the world outside feels far away. “Yeah,” you say. “Long day.” She nods, but doesn’t move right away. Instead, she tugs idly at her sleeve, eyes drifting to you and back again like she’s weighing something unspoken. “You settling in okay?” she asks, quieter this time. “Yeah,” you reply, and then, because it feels right, “better than I expected.” That earns you the faintest curve of her lips, almost shy, and for a moment you see a side of her that isn’t wrapped in smirks or sarcasm. Just Cam, stripped down to the edges of tired honesty. “You’re… easy to have around,” she admits, her eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away. <<if $Int >= 15>> Her hand grazes your arm as she passes by, a brief, deliberate touch before she heads toward her room. “Goodnight,” she murmurs, and though the word is ordinary, the weight behind it makes it feel like something else entirely. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 20>> She lingers a step longer, turning back over her shoulder. “Hey,” she says, almost like she doesn’t want the night to end. Her gaze meets yours in the dim light, steady and searching. “Thanks. For… I don’t know. Just being here.” <</if>> <<link "Head to bed">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

You’re both in the kitchen, rinsing glasses after brushing teeth. The light above hums faintly, casting everything in a soft yellow glow. Cam leans against the counter, arms folded loosely, watching you without much disguise. “You’re quieter at night,” she says after a pause. “Not that you’re chatty during the day, but… it’s different.” You set the glass down and glance her way. “That a complaint?” “No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. Her hair falls forward with the motion, shadowing her face. “Just an observation. I kind of like it. Feels… I don’t know. Honest.” The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s gentle, the kind that leaves room for things unsaid. She shifts, brushing her hip against the counter, eyes meeting yours with a softness you haven’t seen before. “It’s weird,” she adds, her voice dropping a notch. “Usually I hate sharing space with people. But with you, it’s… different.” <<if $Int >= 20>> She steps closer, enough that you can feel the faint warmth of her body in the still air. Her shoulder brushes yours as she leans against the counter beside you, staying there instead of pulling away. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she teases lightly, but the smile that follows is real. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 25>> She tilts her head back, looking up at you in the low light. “You know, sometimes I forget we haven’t known each other that long.” Her voice carries the weight of someone realizing the line between stranger and something more is already fading. <</if>> <<link "Say goodnight and head to your room">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>

The apartment feels smaller at night, the air between you charged with a kind of quiet that demands attention. Cam is by the doorway to her room, one hand resting on the frame, her body turned toward you like she hasn’t decided whether to leave or stay. “You know,” she says softly, “this is the part where I’m supposed to just say ‘goodnight’ and disappear.” You step closer, not enough to crowd her, but enough that the distance feels intentional. “And yet, you’re still here.” Her lips twitch at that, fighting a smile she doesn’t quite manage to hide. “Guess I am.” For a long moment, the two of you stand in that in-between, not quite roommates, not quite something else, but teetering on the edge of both. Her eyes meet yours, steady and unguarded, and you feel the weight of the choice hanging between you. <<if $Int >= 25>> Her hand falls from the doorway, brushing against yours. She doesn’t pull back. “This is reckless,” she says, but her voice isn’t convincing. It’s softer than that, full of something closer to hope. <</if>> <<if $Int >= 30>> She steps closer, so close you catch the faint warmth of her breath. “Don’t say anything,” she whispers, and before you can, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours. It’s slow, tentative, but real, the kind of kiss that unravels the distance you’ve both been carrying. <</if>> <<link "Slip into your room, the night heavier now">><<goto "DayHub">><</link>>