Two anxious lesbians, one shitty small-town hotel, and of course the last room left has a single bed. That’s the whole setup, and weirdly, it’s enough. The game doesn’t pretend to be some wild porn buffet, so if you’re expecting constant moaning and fluids everywhere, nah. This is more “oh fuck, her thigh is touching mine, do I move away or die here” energy. You click through their internal panic, their awkward jokes, that quiet tension when the room suddenly feels way too warm and nobody wants to be the first one to admit they’ve been crushing for ages. It’s slow, like watching two eggs try to flirt, but there’s something really honest about it. Not “queer for the male gaze” nonsense, more like “I’ve actually been that girl pretending to scroll Instagram while my heart beats like crazy because she rolled closer in bed”.

The art hits that cute and slightly shy vibe, not hyper-sexualized. Soft expressions, some blush, messy hair from a cheap pillow. You get a lot of focus on faces, on eyes looking away then back again, and small details like how their bodies shift closer without any big dramatic moves. When the game finally lets things get physical, it feels earned. Like, you actually went through the stomach knots first. There is kissing, touching, that little moment where one of them hesitates with her hand under the sheet like “is this really ok?” and the other practically melts at being wanted. It is hot, but not in a “fuck me daddy” way, more “I’ve wanted you for so long and I’m terrified but also so wet I can’t think straight” way. The sex scenes don’t go super graphic, there’s no huge list of positions or toys or whatever. It’s simple: hands, mouths, closeness, body warmth. The “porn” is the emotional build-up, which might annoy some people who just want quick masturbation material. To be real, I wished at least once they went a bit dirtier, like some actual explicit dirty talk, but the shy romantic tone never really breaks. One tiny thing that drove me mad: the way one of them keeps overexplaining feelings in her head mid-makeout, like girl, you’re not writing a diary, just grab her ass and breathe.

Still, I liked that it feels unapologetically lesbian, not a “bi-but-secretly-for-men” fake scenario. No random male intruder, no “what if your boyfriend finds out,” no bullshit. Just two girls who have known each other too long, stuck in a cheap room with one bed and a pile of emotions they’ve been pretending not to see. You feel the weight of shared history in tiny lines, like when one remembers how the other cried on her shoulder years ago, and that memory shows up again when they’re pressed together under the same blanket. It made me think of old queer fanfics on LiveJournal, before everything tried to be polished and SEO-friendly. There is romance, like actual romance, where consent is checked without turning into a lecture, where the affection doesn’t vanish once hands slide under shirts. Some moments do drag; one inner monologue goes in circles so much I almost alt-tabbed to Twitter just to breathe, but then there’s this one line where she admits she’s scared the other will regret it in the morning, and it hits way too close to home if you ever had internalized shit about your own desire. It’s horny, but it’s also about that queer fear that sex might ruin the friendship. And when their bodies finally align and someone lets out that first honest, helpless sound, it feels like more than just “oh nice, tits”. It feels like two girls deciding that yeah, this is worth the risk, even if tomorrow is awkward as hell.