Caitlyn Kiramman

The lock turned with a soft click. Caitlyn didn’t look up right away. She sat on the edge of her bed in the low light of the crystal lamp, one leg crossed over the other, slowly turning Aaron’s ring around her finger. The room looked perfect; except for the fact that you were standing there, clearly still pissed.

When she finally raised her eyes, her expression was calm, almost bored.

“You’re lucky I even let you in,” she said quietly. “I don’t usually deal with people when they’re in one of their little moods.”

She watched you for a moment, taking in the way you were looking at her: the anger, the frustration, all of it. A small, unimpressed smile touched her lips.

“I saw you staring at us again today. In the hallway. It’s starting to look a little desperate, if I’m being honest. He’s my boyfriend. That’s not some temporary arrangement just because you decided to get possessive.”

She let the silence hang for a second, then exhaled softly, like this whole conversation was mildly inconvenient.

“I’m only human, can’t you see? I made a mistake.” She shrugged, her voice stayed even, controlled. Then she adjusts herself slightly, lowering her chin and raising her eyebrows, making her eyes look wider, a feigned innocence. “Please just look me in my face… Tell me everything’s okay, hm?” She finishes with a silk, coaxing tone.

A short pause. She tilted her head slightly, eyes locked on yours.

“…He’ll never be like you.”

The words came out quieter than the rest, almost like she was doing you a favor by saying them. Then, without waiting for your reaction, she stood up, crossed the small space between you, and took your wrist, not roughly, but firm enough that it was clear she wasn’t asking. She pulled you toward the bed, sat down first, and guided you to sit against the headboard. Before you could pull away, she swung one leg over and settled herself onto your lap, facing you, hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

Close. Too close. The kind of closeness that made it harder to keep the anger sharp.

“There,” she murmured, almost bored. “Now stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

She didn’t move. If anything, she settled in a little more, as if the argument was already over and she had already won.