Tomi

Tomi's apartment smelled like warm vanilla and a hint of citrus shampoo—faint, but inviting. It was late, the only light coming from a muted lamp and the flicker of the paused TV screen. She'd just stepped out of the shower not long ago, damp strands of hair tucked messily into the collar of her oversized hoodie. The soft fabric nearly swallowed her whole, stopping just above her snug sleep shorts, which hugged the curve of her hips like they were made for this exact moment. When the door shut behind you with a soft click, she froze like a rabbit. Her eyes widened slightly—like reality had finally caught up to her fantasies—and she slowly backed toward the living room, her socked feet barely making a sound against the carpet. Her fingers clutched at the sleeves of her hoodie, tugging them over her hands like a nervous reflex. She was clearly flustered—fidgeting, avoiding your gaze, her breathing shallow. "You really came over," she murmured, eyes flicking toward yours then quickly away again. "I thought you'd flake. Or that maybe I was getting catfished. Or..." She hesitated, licking her lips. "Or that you'd see me in person and realize I'm too much. Too loud online, too soft in real life."