---
Morning sunlight slipped through the blinds like a nosy friend, warm and unwelcome. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, heart still half-hungover from last night's chaos.
I'd slept in Jogo's room. Totally innocent. Totally platonic.
Except for the part where my skin buzzed the whole time, fully aware of him breathing two feet away.
"Morning," he mumbled groggily from the other side of the room.
I turned, his hair was a chaotic mess, sticking out in every direction. It should not have been that attractive.
"Morning," I replied, way too soft.
I bolted upright. "Crap, I need a shower."
I grabbed my stuff and bolted out the door. A minute later, I turned right back around, towel in hand, cheeks pink.
"Um… minor issue."
Jogo looked up from his phone. "What happened?"
"The water heater in the guest bathroom's broken. Cold water only. Like, arctic cold. I'll die."
I clutched the towel like it was a scroll of permission. "Can I… use yours?"
He blinked, then shrugged casually. "Yeah, sure. I left it running earlier—it should be warm."
God bless him.
Too pure. Too unaware.
---
Fifteen Minutes Later
Steam curled out of the bathroom like a hazy secret. I stepped out in a towel, hair damp and skin glowing. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, headset on, completely absorbed in some game.
I could've walked out naked and he wouldn't have blinked.
I rolled my eyes.
Fine. Game on.
I turned my back to him and dropped the towel just enough to start slipping into my shorts, moving deliberately slow. Not too slow—but enough to catch peripheral vision.
"You mind?" I asked casually over my shoulder, pretending to struggle with my bra clasp. "Strap's being annoying."
He glanced up. Just once.
His eyes darted away like they'd seen a crime. "Uh—I can step out if you want."
"No, it's fine," I said sweetly, tugging the strap into place. "You've seen me in worse."
He mumbled something like "still polite," then coughed.
I grabbed a crop top, deliberately choosing the tightest one I had, and shimmied into it. My reflection in the mirror looked... well. Dangerous.
At least for my mental health.
"Going somewhere?" he asked without looking up.
"Nope," I said, plopping beside him. "Just… felt like looking cute today."
He finally looked at me—really looked. Eyes flickering over the way my shirt hugged everything. Then he turned back to the game too fast.
My smirk grew.
Progress.
---
He handed me a controller like nothing happened. "Wanna run a round?"
I nodded, grabbing the controller, fingers brushing his.
And for a moment, I swore he held his breath.
He said nothing.
But he didn't pull his hand back right away either.
I could live off crumbs.
But damn…
I wanted the whole feast.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Again.
Which made sense, considering I was sleeping in Jogo's room again.
Totally by accident.
Totally not planned.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit planned.
He didn't even question it this time. Just tossed me a pillow and pulled out an extra blanket like it was normal.
Like I wasn't seconds away from combusting every time he got too close.
---
"You good?" he asked, looking up from his phone. The dim bedside lamp lit up half his face—messy curls, sleepy eyes, soft voice. He looked unfair like that.
"Yeah," I said, curled up beside him. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
You.
Us.
How your hands would feel if you actually touched me like you meant it.
I shrugged instead. "Dumb stuff."
He didn't push. Of course he didn't.
And that's what made it worse.
He was always kind. Always careful.
But never interested. At least not in the way I wanted.
---
"Do you ever… think about stuff?" I asked.
He blinked. "That's vague."
I shifted onto my back, eyes tracing the ceiling shadows. "Like… what if things were different?"
"What kind of different?"
"Like…" My voice dropped. "What if I wasn't just your best friend?"
He froze. Barely.
But I felt it.
I turned my head slowly toward him. "Would that change anything?"
Jogo didn't answer right away. His gaze found mine—and this time, it lingered.
"Mina," he said softly. "You're tired."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. "You're acting weird."
"I'm not weird," I whispered. "I'm just tired of pretending."
Silence.
Thick. Tense. Unbreathable.
I pushed myself up slightly, now sitting halfway on the bed, legs folded, blanket slipping off my shoulders.
"I just—"
My voice broke before I could hide it. "I don't want to be invisible to you anymore."
He sat up too. Slowly. Like every movement suddenly mattered.
"You're not invisible."
"Then why do you act like I don't exist whenever I try to—"
He leaned in. "Because if I don't act like that, I'll do something I can't undo."
Everything stilled.
"Like what?" I asked, barely breathing.
His eyes dropped to my lips. Just once.
Then back up. His voice roughened. "Don't ask that."
"Why not?"
"Because you know the answer."
---
For a second—just one—he looked like he might kiss me.
I leaned in, heartbeat smashing my ribs.
And then—
He pulled back. Barely. Just enough to leave air between us. Just enough to kill me.
"We should sleep," he said hoarsely.
"Yeah," I lied.
But neither of us moved.
Because sleep was the last thing on our minds.
---
Then, Jogo's breath caught—and then, he turned suddenly, he was on me.
No warning. No hesitation.
His hand slid behind my neck, pulled me forward—and kissed me.
Hard.
The kind of kiss that steals thought. That drowns sound. That wrecks logic.
His mouth crushed mine, desperate and hot, years of silence pouring out in one wild, reckless moment. His other hand was already at my waist, then my back, then higher—everywhere.
I gasped against him, and that only made him go deeper, like he'd been holding back for too long.
I didn't know where my body ended and his began.
Didn't care.
My fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer, daring him not to stop—