Lacy Euphoria

His Favorite Girl/Part One: The Moment He Notices You

Originally published on AO3.

🔞 Adults 18+. MDNI. Fictional fanwork using names fictitiously for entertainment. Not real, endorsed, affiliated, or a claim of real events. All romantic and sexual content is between consenting adults. Please consume fiction with media literacy intact.

You don’t treat the night like something delicate. You go home, get ready for the next day, and move the way you always do. Nothing about your routine changes, and you’re not sitting there waiting for your phone to light up like that’s what this depends on.

If he meant it, it’ll show up. If he didn’t, you already said what you needed to say. You’re not taking that back.

By the time morning comes, you’re already moving. Your phone is going off before you’re fully out of bed, emails stacking, clients asking questions, your schedule filling itself without waiting for you to catch up. You don’t slow down for anything, and you don’t start now.

The first showing is early. You unlock the door before your client even pulls up and you walk the space on your own, quick and intentional. Layout, light, what works, what doesn’t. By the time they step inside, you already know where the conversation is going to land.

“Take your time,” you tell them, stepping back just enough to give them space.

They move through the house slowly, taking it in, trying to decide how they feel before they say it out loud. You watch the way they hesitate, the way they circle back to the same spot, the way they’re already leaning toward an answer they haven’t said yet. You’ve seen it a hundred times.

They just need to feel like this is home.

You don’t rush them. You don’t fill the silence. You let it stretch until they speak first.

Same way he did.

The rest of your day moves like that. One showing into the next, calls in between, messages you answer before they sit too long. You stay in control of your time, your pace, your conversations. That’s your normal.

But every now and then, your mind drifts a little bit. Not enough to distract you but just enough to notice.

He said he’d set it up.

Day one passes.

Day two, it crosses your mind again, not heavy, not distracting, just present in a way you don’t ignore.

Not you counting the days, be so for real.

Day three, you’re parked outside another property, engine still running, your hands resting on the wheel a second longer than necessary before you move. Your phone lights up with an unknown number.

You don’t grab it right away. You finish what you’re doing, step out, lock the car.

If it’s him, it’ll still be there. Then you check it.

“This is management. We were given your information.”

You read it once, then again, not because you don’t understand it, but because you do. Of course it’s like this.

“We’re confirming availability for a private meeting. Discretion is required.”

You lean back against the car, the street quiet around you, already knowing what that means without needing it explained. No pictures. No posting. No noise. No mistakes. You type back slower than you feel. “Understood.” There’s a short pause before another message comes through. “Date and time will be sent. Location will follow same day.” You read that for what it is. Not casual. Not flexible. His way.

Another message comes through almost immediately after. “Please confirm you are still interested.” That pulls something small out of you. Like you’d back out now. You type back, confidently, “I am.” This time, the pause stretches longer, long enough to feel intentional, like it’s meant to sit with you. Then—“Confirmed.”

You push off the car and head inside like your day didn’t just change . Because on the outside, it didn’t. An hour passes, then another. You don’t check your phone again. You don’t need to.

It lights up anyway. Same number. “You don’t come back looking at me like that.” You stop moving, just for a second. He noticed that part. Another message follows. “When it’s just me… then you can.” That lands differently. Yeah… that sounds more like him.

You let it sit. You don’t answer right away. He can wait too. When you do, it’s simple. “I told you I would.” No extra. No softening. No taking it back. There’s no reply after that. But you don’t need one. Because now you understand it clearly. He’s not ignoring you. He’s not unsure. He’s doing exactly what he said he would.

And you let him.