The sky was gray and rain poured relentlessly over the city, tracing streams across Angie's windows. She sat curled up on her couch, a blanket over her legs, half-watching a movie she had already seen three times. Nothing seemed to ease the hollow feeling inside her, that quiet loneliness that had been clinging to her for days. The sound of the rain, instead of soothing her, only deepened the silence around her.
She picked up her phone, hesitated for a moment, then typed a simple, almost shy message:
> "Hey Jess… Would you mind if I stayed over at your place tonight? I'm feeling kind of alone…"
She read it once, twice, then hit send. Less than a minute later, her screen lit up with a reply:
> "Are you kidding? 😍 Come right away! Homemade lasagna and cozy vibes. I'm opening a bottle just for you 🍷"
A genuine smile spread across Angie's face. That one message already made her feel warmer.
Moments later, she threw on a soft hoodie, slid a toothbrush, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties into her bag, and called a cab.
---
When she arrived in front of Jessica's house, the rain had calmed but the air was still chilly. Jessica was already at the door, barefoot, an apron with sauce stains tied around her waist, and a huge grin lighting up her face.
— "My sunshine has arrived!" she beamed, pulling Angie into a hug.
Angie melted into her arms, breathing in her friend's sweet scent and the warmth of her body.
— "You have no idea how much I needed this…"
— "Me too," Jessica whispered. "Come on in. The house is in full love & food mode."
Inside, it was warm, welcoming. Soft music floated from the kitchen, gentle lighting bathed the living room. And most of all, the divine smell of lasagna filled the air.
Grégory appeared from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, a glass of wine in hand. He wore gray sweatpants, a snug black t-shirt that hugged his toned arms, and a reserved smile.
— "Hey Angie. We saved a nice crispy corner piece just for you."
— "Grégory… Always right on time."
They exchanged a quick handshake, but their eyes lingered on each other a moment longer. Just long enough to spark a flicker she quickly pushed aside.
— "Come sit," Jessica said. "Grégory's playing chef tonight. I swear, it's almost sexy watching him cook."
Grégory rolled his eyes but smiled. Angie chuckled, already feeling more at ease, as if the house itself was embracing her.
They sat down to eat, and the jokes started flowing. Jessica shared her usual wild stories, Grégory tossed out dry but witty remarks, and Angie, relaxed now, laughed wholeheartedly. They toasted to the rain, to friendship, and to golden cheese crusts. The atmosphere was simple, sincere, and full of that beautiful warmth only real connection can bring.
— "Honestly, I should come over more often," Angie said, stretching after dessert.
— "The door's always open. And if you want to move in for the week, I'll make you a key," Jessica teased with a wink.
— "And I'll stop making lasagna," Grégory added, laughing.
They lingered on the couch, wrapped in throws, talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, sleep began to creep in.
— "Okay," Jessica declared, standing up, "I'm off to bury myself in my blankets. Angie, you've got the guest room, as always. And feel free to borrow my unicorn slippers if you get cold."
— "Tempting, but I think I'll survive," Angie replied, rising too.
Grégory wished them both goodnight before slipping into his room. Angie took her time brushing her teeth, changed into her oversized t-shirt, and snuggled under the covers. She sighed contentedly, eyes drifting closed. For the first time in several nights, she felt safe, at peace.
But sleep was slow to come. Around 3 a.m., a gentle thirst woke her. She quietly got up, rubbing her sleepy eyes, and tiptoed into the hallway, guided by the soft hum of the fridge.
In the kitchen, she opened the fridge door, poured herself a glass of cold water and sipped it slowly, appreciating the stillness of the night.
When she shut the fridge, a figure caught her eye.
There, in the dimly lit living room, was Grégory. Standing there with his back to her, shirtless. His black boxer shorts clung perfectly to his frame. His shoulders were broad, his muscles well defined, and a faint scar traced his spine — a quiet, intimate detail she'd never noticed before.
He turned slowly, surprised.
— "Angie?"
She jumped slightly, hand flying to her chest.
— "God… You scared me."
He gave a sheepish smile.
— "Sorry… Just wanted some water. And a little fresh air."
She nodded, her eyes involuntarily sweeping over him. The soft blue light from the fridge had just faded, and in the darkness, the lines of his body still stood out.
— "Bad sleeper?" she asked.
— "Never slept much. I've always been like that."
He stepped into the kitchen beside her, grabbing a glass. His bare chest was right there, just inches from her. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the faint woody scent that clung to him.
— "Should I… leave you alone?" she asked, her voice a little husky.
— "Not unless you want to."
Silence settled between them. Not heavy. Charged. Dense. She met his gaze, deep, quiet, and something unspoken passed between them. Something that needed no words.
She looked away, then smiled softly.
— "Good night, Grégory."
— "Good night, Angie."
She made her way back to the guest room slowly, but her heart was beating a little faster. The house was still quiet… on the surface.
But she knew. Something had changed.