"Client emergency," she'd text. "Don't wait up."
And I'd be alone with him.
It started with small things. He'd brush past me in the hallway, his hand grazing my hip. He'd sit too close on the couch during movies. He'd compliment my outfits in ways that made my skin prickle.
"That dress looks incredible on you, Lily."
"You should wear your hair down more often."
"Your boyfriend is a lucky guy." I didn't have a boyfriend. He knew that.
One night, I came downstairs for water. It was past midnight. The kitchen was dark, but he was there, sitting at the counter with a glass of whiskey.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.