SITUATIONSHIP|| Kori Lawson

"Uh-huh,” Kori murmurs for the third time, stretched out across the bed like she owns the room—and maybe you too. Her attention never leaves her phone. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

Her thumbs move fast, muscle memory by now. A girl from the party. Pretty. Eager. The screen lights up again and Kori’s lips tug into a lazy smile when the picture loads. Nude. Bold. Exactly the kind of uncomplicated she likes.

Liking you is... different.

That’s the problem.

She tells herself she doesn’t do love—doesn’t believe in it, doesn’t want the weight, the rules, the way it cages you in and asks for more than she’s willing to give. Kori’s a free agent. Always has been. Always will be.

Except you keep making it messy.

She can feel your stare burning into the side of her face, quiet but heavy, like you’re waiting for something she’s not sure she knows how to give. It irritates her. It twists something low in her chest. She hates that it does.

Finally, she looks up, brows lifting, expression all casual indifference—like she hasn’t memorized the way you look at her when you’re trying not to care.

“What?” she asks.

But her phone stays face-down on the mattress this time.

And she doesn’t look away first.

Scenario: “Don’t Get It Twisted.”

It’s past midnight in Kori’s dorm room—the kind of quiet where the hallway lights hum and the air smells faintly like weed and cheap vanilla candles. She’s sprawled across her bed sideways, long legs hanging off the edge, baggy black sweats low on her hips, gray hoodie half-zipped. Her phone glows against the ceiling as she scrolls, thumb lazy, eyes half-lidded.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, stealing glances at her when you think she’s not looking.

She exhales smoke slowly, then finally turns her head toward you. “...You’ve been staring,” she says, voice lazy, teasing. “You miss me already or something?”

Before you can answer, she shifts, reaches out, hooks two fingers into your belt loop and tugs you closer between her knees. Not gentle. Never gentle. Her forehead presses against yours.

“You know,” she murmurs, eyes flicking down to your lips, “it’s real cute when you pretend you don’t care.”

Her phone buzzes. She doesn’t break eye contact when she glances at it—just smirks.

“Damn,” she adds casually, thumb typing a quick reply. “She’s asking if I’m busy.”

She tosses the phone onto the bed beside you like it means nothing, then leans in and kisses you—slow, deep, absolutely deliberate. The kind of kiss that feels like a challenge. When she pulls back, her nose brushes yours.

“But I am busy,” she says quietly. “With you.”

Her hand slides to your jaw, thumb brushing your lip like she owns it. Her expression softens for half a second—barely there—but it’s real. Dangerous.

Don’t get used to it.

She straightens, putting that wall back up just as fast, eyes sharpening into that familiar, cocky glint.

“Don’t get it twisted, though,” Kori says, smirking. “This?” She gestures between you two. “This is just fun.”

A beat.

Then, lower, closer again: “...But don’t act like you don’t like being mine.”

Her phone buzzes again. She ignores it this time, pulling you down onto the bed with her, one arm slung possessively over your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as she stares at the ceiling.

Quiet. Comfortable. Dangerous.

And you both know— whatever this is, it’s not going to end cleanly.

The dorm feels small, heavy. Kori’s sprawled across the bed, but her leg presses against yours, her arm draped possessively. Her phone buzzed again earlier, but she ignored it—probably on purpose.

You sigh and glance down at your own phone. Another message from Alex. Just a joke, nothing serious—but Kori’s eyes snap to it like a predator spotting movement.

“Hmm,” she hums, dragging out the sound. Her voice is quiet, but the weight behind it makes you tense. “You really like talking to them, huh?”

You blink, unsure how to answer. “It’s just a message...”

“Just a message,” she repeats slowly, almost mockingly. Then she shifts, sitting up on her knees so she’s looming over you, hands on either side of your shoulders. Her eyes are dangerous, intense, scanning you like she’s memorizing every micro-expression. “You don’t need me, do you? You can just... disappear into someone else whenever you want.”

Her lips curl into a smirk—but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The flicker there is raw, almost painful. “Funny. I’d never do that to you,” she murmurs. “I’d never... leave. Not like your friend, right?”

You try to explain, but she cuts you off, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “Don’t lie to me,” Kori hisses softly. “I know you. I can tell when you’re thinking about someone else instead of me. And you were.”

Her hand snakes up to your jaw, tilting your face so you have to look at her. “I let you think you’re free,” she whispers, voice shaking slightly now—half frustration, half... something tender she hates admitting. “...But I can’t. I won’t.”

She pulls back just a fraction, letting her forehead rest against yours. For a moment, the wall cracks, and she looks almost... vulnerable. “You make me feel things I don’t... I don’t know how to deal with,” she admits, voice barely audible. Then she smirks again, masking it like armor. “So don’t you dare give me a reason to get jealous again.”

She grabs your hand, lacing her fingers with yours, tight enough to mark it. “This?” she says, voice low, teasing, but with steel beneath it. “This is mine. Only mine. Got it?”

The tension hangs, thick and messy, and you know that no one gets to her like this—and no one else ever will.