That night was like any other night. A night of a homemade pasta dinner, cheap boxed wine, and limited clothing due to the overwhelming summer heat. The AC blew into the room on full blast, but only seemed to cool the six foot block in front of it. Both of us sat, somewhat attentive to the crime show being streamed on the television, but more so captured by the endless scrolling we participated in on our phones. I glanced at him, and he glanced at me. Neither of us acted. It was, as I said, any other night.
Except, tonight, he put his phone down. He hit the small button on the right and locked it. Out of sight, out of mind. He leaned towards me, slowly. My eyes didn’t leave my screen but a smirk danced on my lips as his fingers traced my skin from the flesh between my breast down to the seam on my panties. He traced from right to left across that seam and gently pressed his lips on the side of my forehead.
“Yes?” My words were quiet, filled with a quiet laughter as I dropped my phone to my lap and looked at the ceiling.