Liam's arm was still warm where Chloe's head had rested, her honey-blonde hair spread across his chest like spilled sunlight. The room smelled of latex and sex and her—that vanilla-and-something-darker scent that had embedded itself in his sheets, his clothes, his skin.
"Hey." Chloe's voice was soft, drowsy, her finger tracing lazy circles on his collarbone. "What do you know about the girl next door?"
Liam blinked. "Nova?"
"Mm. Room 218." She shifted, propping herself up on an elbow to look at him. Her hazel eyes were half-lidded, satisfied, but curious. "She's in our Psych 101 lecture. Sits two rows behind us."
He thought about it. Dark hair, always pulled back. Quiet in class, but not shy—more like she was watching, cataloging. "I don't know much. She keeps to herself."
"She's a cam girl."
Liam's eyebrows shot up. "How do you—"
"I hear things." Chloe's smile was sly. "Through the walls. She's got a setup in there. Ring light, nice camera, the works. I've heard her... negotiating."
The word hung between them. He felt his ears warm. "Negotiating?"
"Tips. Requests. She's good at it." Chloe's finger resumed its tracing, down his sternum now. "And here's the interesting part. Some of her clients are looners."
His stomach tightened. "You're sure?"
"Positive. Heard her describe a balloon once. 'Big, shiny, the kind that squeaks when you rub it against yourself.'" Chloe's voice dropped into a mock-sultry tone, and she laughed when his blush spread to his cheeks. "She knows the terminology. She just doesn't have the... obsession."
Liam processed this. A cam girl next door who understood their world without being in it. "Does she know about us?"
"I don't think so. Not specifically." Chloe lay back down, her cheek finding its spot on his chest. "But she's sharp. She probably suspects something."
Silence settled over them, punctuated by the distant hum of the building's heating system. Through the wall, faintly, a creak. Nova moving around in her room.
"Should we tell her?" Liam asked quietly.
Chloe was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know yet. Let's see what she does first."
---
In room 218, Nova Francoeur sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop open to her streaming dashboard. The night's earnings were solid—two hundred and thirty dollars from three private shows, plus tips from the public stream she'd run earlier. Enough to cover next week's textbooks and still have something left over.
She stretched, her back cracking, and muted her microphone. The walls in this building were a joke. She'd learned to read her neighbors through them: the couple in 215 who fought every Tuesday, the guy in 216 who played guitar badly, and the girl in 217—Chloe—who had a thing for balloons.
Nova had noticed it weeks ago. The rhythmic squeaking, the soft gasps, the way the sounds changed when Chloe wasn't alone anymore. At first she'd assumed it was some kind of ASMR thing. Then she'd taken a private show request from a looner client—a shy guy who paid fifty dollars just to watch her blow up a red latex balloon and pop it between her thighs—and she'd recognized the sound immediately.
She closed her laptop. Through the wall, she could hear the low murmur of voices. Chloe and her boyfriend, talking. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was soft. Intimate.
Nova checked the time. Almost midnight. She had an early class tomorrow—Sunday brunch with her study group, then a shift at the campus library. But she couldn't stop thinking about them.
About Chloe.
She'd seen her in the hallway, of course. Honey-blonde hair, that bright smile, always carrying some colorful balloon like it was just another accessory. Nova had watched her twirl a pink mylar heart between her fingers with an ease that suggested she'd been doing it her whole life. There was something magnetic about her—the way she owned her weirdness without apology.
And the boyfriend. Liam. Quiet, blushing, always looking at Chloe like she'd hung the moon. Nova had seen them holding hands in the cafeteria, seen the way he leaned into her touch like it was oxygen.
She wondered what they sounded like when they were alone together. What they did with those balloons.
Her hand drifted to her phone. She could text Chloe—they'd exchanged numbers for a group project last month. Hey, I know this is random, but I heard you through the wall and I think we should talk.
No. Too direct. Too weird.
She set the phone down. Tomorrow, she decided. She'd knock on Chloe's door tomorrow morning, before her study group. Feel them out. See if they were as open as she suspected.
Nova lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The voices next door had gone quiet. She imagined Chloe curled against Liam's chest, both of them breathing slow and synchronized. She'd never had that—the easy intimacy of a shared bed. Her hookups were transactional, quick, always with one eye on the door.
But she wanted to know what it felt like. Especially with a girl.
She closed her eyes. Tomorrow.
---
Morning light filtered through Chloe's thin curtains, pale and gold. Liam woke first, disoriented for a moment before the warmth beside him registered. Chloe was still asleep, her face half-buried in her pillow, one hand loosely gripping the deflated balloon from last night.
He watched her breathe. The rise and fall of her shoulders. The way her lips parted slightly. She looked younger in sleep, the mischief smoothed away, leaving something soft and unguarded.
He didn't want to move. But his bladder was insistent, and he needed water. He eased out of bed, careful not to wake her, and padded to the small sink in the corner of her room. The dorm's communal bathroom was down the hall, but Chloe kept a plastic cup by the sink. He filled it, drank, filled it again.
Through the wall, a door opened. Closed. Footsteps in the hallway.
Liam froze, cup halfway to his lips. The footsteps stopped outside Chloe's door.
A knock. Soft, but deliberate.
He looked at Chloe. She stirred, blinking, her eyes finding him across the room. "What time is it?"
"Early. Someone's at the door."
Chloe sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. She was wearing one of his t-shirts—he hadn't noticed her put it on last night. "Who?"
"I don't know."
Another knock. "Chloe? You awake?"
Nova's voice. Liam's heart rate kicked up.
Chloe's eyes widened, then narrowed with interest. She swung her legs out of bed, smoothed down the t-shirt, and walked to the door. She opened it a crack, enough to see Nova's face.
"Hey." Chloe's voice was casual, but Liam could hear the undercurrent of alertness. "What's up?"
Nova stood in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, her dark hair down for once. She looked nervous—a crack in her usual composed exterior. "Sorry to bother you so early. I was wondering if we could talk."
Chloe glanced back at Liam. He was still by the sink, wearing only his boxers, clutching the plastic cup like a shield. She turned back to Nova. "About what?"
"The walls." Nova's voice dropped. "I know what you two do in here."
The silence stretched. Liam felt his face burn.
Chloe didn't flinch. "Come in." She opened the door wider, stepping aside.
Nova entered, her eyes sweeping the room. They landed on Liam, then on the deflated balloon on the bed, then on the stack of unopened packages by Chloe's desk—latex, still sealed. Her expression was unreadable.
"Sorry," she said. "I know this is weird. But I figured it was better to talk in person than keep pretending I don't hear everything."
Chloe closed the door. "How long have you known?"
"Since you started bringing him over." Nova gestured vaguely at Liam. "The sounds changed. And I recognized the balloon sounds from work."
"Your cam work," Chloe said.
Nova's eyes flickered with surprise, then resignation. "You heard that too, huh?"
"Hard not to." Chloe's tone wasn't accusatory. Curious. "You're not exactly quiet when you're negotiating rates."
A beat of silence. Then Nova laughed—a short, surprised sound. "Fair enough." She looked at them both, her nervousness softening into something more open. "Look, I'm not here to judge. I've had clients who are into balloons. I get it. It's not my thing, but I understand the appeal."
Liam found his voice. "Why are you here, then?"
Nova turned to him. Her gaze was direct, assessing. "Because I think we could help each other. I have clients who would pay a lot for content with real enthusiasts. People who actually love what they're doing, not just performing it." She paused. "And I've never met anyone who shares that... passion. I'm curious about it."
Chloe crossed her arms. "You want us to make content for your channel?"
"Not necessarily. I want to talk about it first. See if there's a way to collaborate that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable." Nova's eyes softened. "And honestly? I'm a little lonely in this building. Everyone else thinks I'm weird for what I do. You two are the first neighbors who haven't given me side-eye."
Chloe looked at Liam. He saw the question in her eyes: what do you think?
He thought about it. A cam girl who understood their world. Who might be able to give them a space where they didn't have to hide. But also—someone new, someone unknown, with her own agenda.
"Can we think about it?" he said. "And talk later?"
Nova nodded. "Of course. I'm free this afternoon after two. Or we can do tomorrow." She moved toward the door, then paused, her hand on the knob. "For what it's worth, you two sound happy together. Through the wall, I mean. It's nice."
She left before either of them could respond, the door clicking shut behind her.
Chloe let out a breath she'd been holding. "Well. That happened."
Liam set down the cup. "What do you think?"
"I think..." Chloe walked over to him, sliding her arms around his waist. "I think we should hear her out. But on our terms." She looked up at him, her hazel eyes serious. "We don't owe anyone our private thing. Not even for money."
He nodded, his hands finding her hips. "Agreed."
She smiled, the mischief creeping back. "Good. Now can we please have breakfast? I'm starving."
He kissed her forehead. "Pancakes?"
"Always."
"Pancakes?" Liam repeated, his hand still resting on her hip. "You sure?"
Chloe tilted her head, her honey-blonde waves brushing her shoulder. "I mean... I like pancakes. But you're right to ask." She bit her lip, thinking. "Maybe something else?"
"Something else like what?"
"I don't know. Something greasy. Something that feels like a Sunday morning even though it's, you know, Sunday morning." She laughed at her own non-answer. "This is why I can't make decisions. I need you to narrow it down for me."
Liam thought for a second. "Fast food?"
"Too vague."
"Breakfast fast food?"
"Getting warmer."
They looked at each other, and the answer hit them both at the same time.
"McDonald's," they said together.
Chloe burst out laughing, the sound bright and unguarded. "Okay, that's settled. McDonald's it is." She grabbed a hoodie from her closet—his hoodie, actually, the one he'd left here two nights ago—and pulled it over her head. "Bus or walk?"
"Bus. It's like a mile and a half."
"Bus it is."
She grabbed her bag, then paused. Her eyes landed on a small pink punch balloon sitting on her desk, still folded in its package. She picked it up, slid it into her pocket, and caught Liam's raised eyebrow.
"What?" she said innocently. "You never know when you'll need a balloon."
He shook his head, smiling. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do."
The bus stop was a five-minute walk from the dorm, and the morning air was crisp, carrying the last traces of autumn. Chloe slipped her hand into his as they walked, her fingers threading through his. He squeezed back, and she felt the warmth spread up her arm.
The bus was half-full when they climbed aboard. Chloe scanned the seats and spotted a single empty spot near the back—a two-seater with one side taken by an elderly man reading a newspaper. She tugged Liam toward it, then sat down directly on his lap before he could protest.
"Chloe—"
"There's only one seat," she said, settling against him. "This is efficient."
His arms came around her automatically, his hands finding her waist. "You planned this."
"Maybe." She pulled the pink punch balloon from her pocket, tore the package open with her teeth, and brought it to her lips.
Liam's breath caught. "Here?"
"Why not?" She began to blow, the latex stretching between her lips, expanding slowly. The familiar scent filled the air around them—sweet, chemical, electric. The balloon grew, pink and translucent, and she kept blowing until it was the size of a small melon.
A few passengers glanced over. Chloe didn't care. She tied the knot with a quick, practiced motion, then held the balloon up, letting it catch the morning light.
"Show-off," Liam murmured, his voice low in her ear.
She felt his voice vibrate through his chest, felt the heat of him against her back. "You like it."
His hands tightened on her waist. "I do."
Across the aisle, a little girl—maybe six or seven, with dark braids and wide brown eyes—was staring at the balloon. Her gaze tracked it like a compass needle, unwavering, hungry. She was clutching her mother's sleeve, but her entire focus was on the pink latex in Chloe's hand.
Chloe noticed. She always noticed.
She caught the girl's eye and smiled. Then she leaned forward, holding the balloon out. "Here. You want it?"
The girl's eyes went round. She looked at her mother, who hesitated, then nodded. The girl reached out, her small fingers closing around the knot. "Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Chloe watched the girl's face light up as she clutched the balloon to her chest, pressing it against her cheek. "Enjoy it."
The mother mouthed "thank you" over her daughter's head. Chloe just winked.
Liam watched the whole thing, his expression soft. When Chloe settled back against him, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "That was adorable."
"She was tracking it," Chloe said, her voice quiet. "You saw that, right? She was tracking it like it was the only thing in the world."
"I saw." He paused. "You never know when someone's having their first balloon moment."
Chloe turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... that could be her first. The one she remembers. The one that starts everything." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "For looners, I mean. You never know which balloon is the one that clicks."
Chloe's chest tightened. "Liam."
"What?"
"That's—" She shook her head, smiling. "That's really sweet."
He blushed, the color creeping up his neck. "Shut up."
"No, I mean it." She leaned back, her head finding the curve of his shoulder. "You're a romantic and you don't even know it."
He didn't answer, but she felt his arms tighten around her. Across the aisle, the girl was still pressing the balloon to her cheek, her eyes closed, a small smile on her face. Her mother was watching her with a complicated expression—half amused, half concerned—and shaking her head slowly.
"Her mom's not sure about it," Liam observed.
Chloe laughed. "She'll figure it out. Or she won't. Either way, that balloon's going to have a good home."
The bus rumbled on, and Chloe let herself sink into the warmth of Liam's body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her hip. She could have stayed there forever, suspended in that moment, the city passing by in a blur of gray and green.
But the bus pulled up to their stop, and she had to peel herself off him.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "Breakfast awaits."
The McDonald's was busy, the line snaking past the counter. Chloe ordered an Egg McMuffin and a black coffee, then turned to Liam. "What are you getting?"
"Sausage McGriddles," he said. "And—"
"And you need to learn something." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Order a black coffee and an ice cream cone with a spoon."
He blinked. "What?"
"Just do it. Trust me."
He looked at her, skeptical, but turned to the cashier. "Uh, a Sausage McGriddles, a black coffee, and... an ice cream cone. With a spoon."
The cashier didn't blink. "Anything else?"
"No, that's it."
They found a booth by the window, the morning sun slanting across the table. Chloe unwrapped her Egg McMuffin and took a bite, watching Liam stare at his tray—the black coffee, the ice cream cone sitting in its little cardboard holder, the spoon beside it.
"Okay," he said. "What's the move?"
She grinned. "Watch and learn." She picked up the ice cream cone, flipped it upside down, and plunged it into the coffee. The ice cream began to melt immediately, swirling into the dark liquid. She stirred it with the spoon until it was a pale, creamy brown, then took a sip. "Try it."
He copied her, dumping the cone into his coffee, stirring, then lifting the cup to his lips. His eyes widened. "That's... actually really good."
"Told you. Iced coffee before iced coffee was cool."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the clatter of trays and chatter of other customers filling the air. No straw wrappers this time—Chloe had checked, and the paper straws were nowhere to be seen. Good. She didn't need the distraction.
Halfway through her sandwich, Chloe pulled out her phone. "I should call Nova. Set up that talk for tonight."
Liam nodded, chewing. "You want me to step out?"
"No. Stay. This involves you too." She dialed, put the phone to her ear.
Nova picked up on the second ring. "Hey. Was wondering when you'd call."
"Hey. We talked about it, and we're open to hearing you out. Tonight work?"
"Tonight's perfect. My place or yours?"
Chloe glanced at Liam. "Mine. Room 217. Eight o'clock?"
"I'll be there." A pause. "Thanks, Chloe. For giving me a chance."
"Don't thank me yet. We haven't agreed to anything." But Chloe's voice was warm. "See you tonight."
She hung up and set the phone down. "Done. Eight o'clock, my room."
Liam reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. "You okay with this?"
"I think so." She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers through his. "We'll hear her out. Set boundaries. If it doesn't feel right, we walk."
"And if it does?"
She smiled, slow and private. "Then we figure it out together."