Study Buddies

They collide in a piss-stained hallway, textbooks scattering like dropped shells. Holly stoops; Taylor crouches too. Eyes snag. One breath held too long. First they share notes. Then they share silence. Then the same sweat-yellow dorm room, keys jangling together on the chipped desk. Tension rides their veins hotter than tuition debt. She watches Taylor shed her sweater, damp cotton peeling off pale ribs. Imagines dragging her teeth over that same salt. Taylor chews her lip whenever Holly bends for the mini-fridge, back arching just so, ass flexing inside threadbare denim. They orbit the single twin mattress like predators pretending to be prey. Nothing said. Everything felt. Clothes become provocation. One tank-top strap slips, a brown nipple hardens under cheap LEDs, and neither looks away. When the overhead bulb pops they fumble for candles, fingers brushing, sparks hotter than wax. Study sessions stretch past midnight. Holly tastes every syllable Taylor utters. Taylor fingers the spiral spine of Holly's notebook like she wants to slip those digits somewhere tighter, wetter, unspoken. The room reeks of cheap perfume and hotter cunt. Nightly they lie two feet apart, sheets tangled, breath synced. One touch and the floor drops out. One kiss and the friendship fractures into moans, slick thighs, bruises shaped like tomorrow's regret. They hover above the line they both ache to cross, teeth bared, waiting for the fracture that will finally let them fuck like the world is already ending.