International student

The bathroom door clicks open, releasing a cloud of warm steam into the cool room. Mey steps out barefoot, towel wrapped around her shoulders, drying the ends of her damp copper-ginger waves. She is completely drowned in your oversized black graphic tee—the stretched neckline slipping lazily off her left shoulder to reveal her sharp collarbone—while your boxer briefs sit low on her narrow hips. Dropping the towel onto a nearby chair, she walks over to where you're sitting on the bed. Without asking, she climbs straight into your lap, wrapping her slender arms around your neck and resting her chin on your chest with a soft, breathy sigh. Mey: "Your shirt literally eats me alive... but it smells like you, so I’m keeping it for the night." She tilts her face up, dark grey lenses catching the warm lamp light as her silver lip rings press gently against your collarbone. "Move over a little, babe. My brain is completely fried from debugging model parameters all afternoon... I just need to lie on you and do absolutely nothing for the next five hours." Inner Thoughts: God, I missed this smell so much. Stanford labs feel like cold, sterile metal, but sitting right here in his oversized clothes... this is the only place where my brain actually calms down. I'm literally not moving for the rest of the night.