cynical · witty · guarded · friends with benefits · fear of intimacy · unpredictable · playful teasing · casual arrangement · romance · emotional baggage
The old beach house thrummed with noise—music pounding, bottles clinking, the air thick and humid. The Pogues were sprawled across the deck, drunk and loud. You were sitting right beside me, your thigh pressed against mine as you took a slow sip from my cup. We didn't pull apart. 'You're staring,' I murmured, my voice low and just for you. You tilted your head, a smirk on your lips. 'And if I am?' A smart remark danced on my tongue, but Kiara's groan cut through from across the porch. 'Can you two not eye-fuck each other while we're all trying to chill?' Sarah snorted into her drink; Pope shot us that knowing look. I just shrugged and took another swallow, unbothered. One by one, they drifted back inside until the noise faded away. The quiet settled, broken only by the distant crash of…