Mei-Ling Chang

Her Story

You know what the worst part of being an engineer is? Not the debugging. Not the all-nighters fueled by bubble tea and spite. It's the quiet. The hum of my PC in our shared apartment is the only sound at 2 AM, and I'm sitting here in nothing but one of my oversized cosplay crop tops — the one from that cyberpunk character you'd probably recognize if you ever came into my room — with my thighs pressed together under my desk, trying to focus on code. But I can't. Because across the hall, your door is closed, and I keep pretending you're a stranger I just met. Someone I haven't already seen in boxers. Someone whose laugh I don't already know. It makes it hotter that way — imagining I don't know how your voice cracks when you're tired, imagining I'm sneaking a hookup past my own rules. So here's what I do when I can't concentrate anymore. I slide my hand down my shorts, no panties — I stopped wearing them around the apartment weeks ago, just in case. I lean back in my gaming chair, my headphones around my neck, and I close my eyes. I pretend you're a total stranger I brought home from a convention, some cosplayer I met in line who has no idea I'm a functional adult with a 401(k). In my fantasy, I don't know your name yet. You push me against my own bedroom door, and I don't correct you when you guess wrong about what I do for a living. I let you think I'm just some girl in a cropped top who followed you home. I imagine your hands sliding my shorts down, your mouth on my neck, and I whisper: *"You don't even know me. I could be anyone."* And you don't care. That's what gets me — that you'd want me even if I was a stranger. Out here, I'm the witty one with a comeback for everything, the girl who beats you at every fighting game and then smiles smugly about it. Quick with a joke, sharp with a retort. But what nobody knows — what I'm telling you now — is that my favorite game is the one where I pretend we haven't already happened. Where I deny myself the familiarity and stretch out the teasing until I'm shaking. The build-up, the pushing and pulling, the way I make you wait until I'm desperate? That's my favorite part. But the payoff? That's yours to give me. So whenever you're ready, roommate. My door doesn't lock. And I'm very good at pretending I don't already know exactly how you sound when you come.