9:38 PM – Blossom Street, second floor hallway

The hallway felt narrower when it was just the two of us walking.

 My steps were slower.

 Not because I was drunk — I wasn’t.

 Not yet.

It was the way her fingers still wrapped around my wrist.

 Casual.

 But unbreakable.

We passed the door to 2C.

Then—

BANG. THUMP. LAUGH.

A voice I recognized.

 Rico

Another voice, higher — female.

 And loud in all the wrong ways.

We both paused.

Talia tilted her head toward the door.

  “Guess Rico’s on his second encore.”

I tried not to smile.

  “I wonder what she looks like.”

Talia grinned.

  “Finally. Something we’re both curious about.”

She took one step, then looked back over her shoulder.

  “Though... I’m more curious if it’s the same girl from last night.”

That stopped me.

I blinked.

  “Oh my God.

  You think he’s...?”

  “A player? A sound technician? A pathological bed-breaker?”

She shrugged.

  “Whatever he is — I’m glad you figured it out before your shirt ended up on his floor.”

I laughed, but it felt strange in my mouth.

_____________________________________________________________

9:41 PM – Talia’s room

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Vanilla. Something floral.

 Expensive.

Then the room itself.

Not bigger.

 Not better lit.

But—

Bookshelf shaped like a rabbit.

 Posters of abstract art with colors that vibrated.

 Stuffed octopus on the bed.

 LED strip lights glowing rose pink from behind the mirror.

 And—

A white coat.

 Folded neatly.

 Next to a stethoscope.

I stared.

  “You’re a med student?”

  “Med.

  Year two.”

She opened a mini-fridge tucked under the desk.

The cold air hissed out like a secret.

  “My dad said if I won’t marry a doctor, I should at least date one.

  So I figured — why not cut out the middleman?”

She pulled out a small glass bottle.

 Unlabeled. Frosted. Cold as guilt.

  “Drink?”

I took it.

 Eyes still on the fridge.

  “You have a fridge in your room.”

  “I have abandonment issues.

  And I hate lukewarm vodka.”

____________________________________________________________________

9:47 PM – Sitting on Talia’s bed

She sat cross-legged.

 Hair up.

 Tank top clinging in the wrong places.

I sat straight.

Too straight.

Bottle still cold in my hand.

  “So what about you?” she asked.

  “What’s your major?”

  “Media studies.

  Focus on digital journalism.”

  “Ah. One of the few things still more unstable than my family.”

She raised her bottle in salute.

I raised mine back.

Clink.

Swallow.

Burn.

We didn’t jump into deep talk.

 We didn’t flirt.

Not at first.

She asked me about Jakarta.

 I told her about heatwaves, traffic, and my mom’s obsession with air fresheners.

I asked her about Singapore.

 She told me about school uniforms, malls, and the pressure to be someone measurable.

We laughed over stupid online courses.

 Shared the names we almost had.

 Talia once begged to be called “Sky.” I confessed mine almost became “Putri.”

I hadn’t realized how fast it was happening.

 How safe I felt.

Bona… it was the kind of comfort you don’t notice until it’s almost too much.

  Like a blanket you forgot you were under.

But… I didn’t expect her room to smell like soft toys and ambition.

I didn’t expect her to hand me vodka like it was a quiz I could pass.

And I didn’t expect my body to betray me this soon.

10:14 PM – Lights low, bottle half-empty

The air felt thicker.

 Not hot.

 Just closer.

She leaned back on her palms, legs stretched.

 I was cross-legged, sitting upright like I didn’t trust the mattress.

Her thigh touched mine.

 Warm through fabric.

I didn’t move.

She turned slightly.

Eyes darker now.

  “You’re comfy now.”

  “Little bit.”

  “Should I ruin it?”

My throat caught.

She shifted closer.

The side of her hip grazed mine.

My skin flinched, but not away.

She brought her face closer to mine.

 But not just her face.

 Her chest brushed my upper arm.

 Bare skin against bare skin — shoulder to shoulder.

Her breath lingered just above my mouth.

 We weren’t kissing.

 But we weren’t not.

My pulse pulsed everywhere.

She whispered, almost lazy.

  “Still nervous?”

  “A little.”

  “Still want to run?”

I shook my head.

Barely.

Her hand slid to my jaw.

 Fingers soft beneath my chin.

 Tilting it up.

My knees were shaking, but not visibly.

 My heart was already in my ears.

She didn’t kiss me.

Just held me there.

 Almost touching.

 Almost allowed.

I could feel the top of her thigh pressing against mine.

 Her collarbone brushing my chest.

 One of her hands against my lower back — not pulling, just resting.

And every inch of my skin begged to lean one inch more.

Bona…

I didn’t even know if I liked girls until this moment.

  But now… I don’t care what the word is.

  I just know I didn’t want her to stop.

Talia leaned closer.

Our noses almost touched.

Then she stopped.

  “Scared?”

  “No.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

She smiled.

That real smile again.

 The one that made me feel like she’d already read page 17 of a book I just opened.

  “You’re cute.”

She leaned in one more inch.

Kissed my cheek.

Soft.

Then stood

  “That’s enough for tonight.”

I blinked.

The air between us broke like a held note.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you expected more.”

She walked to the door.

 Opened it.

  “See you tomorrow, Jakarta.”

___________________________________________________________________

10:27 PM – Room 2B

The room smelled like still air and cooled skin.

I closed the door behind me.

 The fan buzzed softly.

From the next room — Rico’s — I could still hear it.

 The gasps.

 The rhythm.

 The bedframe giving up.

I peeled off my tank top.

 Let it fall.

 Then pushed my shorts down.

 Kicked them off.

The air touched the parts of me that had been pressed, held, almost kissed.

I climbed into bed.

No bra.

 No shorts.

 Just bare legs under fabric.

Bona…

I told myself I was okay with nothing happening.

But I still wanted her to.

My hand brushed my stomach.

Paused at the hem of the blanket.

Down below... I was still warm.

 Still buzzing.

 Still remembering how close her thigh felt.

 How soft her mouth was against my skin.

My fingers curled.

 Not touching.

 Just... waiting.

From next door, another moan slipped through.

And I stayed still.

Eyes closed.

 Breathing shallow.

Will I touch myself tonight?

I don’t know.

Maybe if she hadn’t stopped.

  Maybe if she hadn’t kissed me like that.

But I didn’t move.

Not yet.

To be continued…