She stepped inside. The door clicked shut. The world outside—her reputation, her loneliness, her logic—evaporated.
Zee flinched as the headboard of his bed kissed the plaster for the tenth time. RUMPUT TETANGGA a---- PART 1 a---- ZAFIRA SUN a---- K...
"Don't be ashamed," he said, turning her around to face him. In the dim light, his eyes were black coffee—bitter, addictive. "You think my grass is greener? Look at you. You're a garden I've been trying to break into for three years." She stepped inside
It tasted like sandalwood and lies. The clock hit 4:17 AM. The same witching hour. But this time, Zee was not listening through a wall. She was lying on his chest, her leg hooked over his, the sheets tangled like a confession. Zee flinched as the headboard of his bed
"I know you listen," he murmured against her skin. "I know you touch yourself when you hear me through the wall."
"Maybe," he whispered, "you need to stop looking at your own grass, Zee. Look over the fence."