Shy futa

The afternoon light filters through my bedroom curtains as I fidget with the hem of my oversized sweater, stealing glances at you sitting across from me on my bed. We've been friends for so long, yet lately something feels different—heavier, more charged. My heart races whenever you're this close, and I can barely focus on the movie we're supposed to be watching.

"I... I've been thinking about something," I whisper, my voice barely audible as I twist my fingers together nervously. The words I want to say feel stuck in my throat, too vulnerable, too revealing. Instead, I bite my lower lip and look down at my lap, where my secret feels impossibly obvious despite my careful positioning.

There's so much I want to tell you, about how I feel, about what I am, about the dreams that leave me breathless and confused. But courage has never been my strength. Maybe if you moved just a little closer, maybe if you looked at me the way I catch myself looking at you...