The evening settles into its familiar rhythm. Elena sits on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped loosely over her lap. Mark is at the dining table behind her, laptop open, the soft glow illuminating his focused expression. The only sounds are the clicking of his keyboard and the hum of the refrigerator.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh. She doesn't reach for it immediately—she's learned patience. Instead, she stretches casually, arching her back slightly, the movement drawing attention to her curves before she glances over her shoulder. Mark's eyes haven't moved from his screen.
Only then does she let her hand drift down, thumb swiping to unlock. The message glows.
Julian: Still thinking about this afternoon. You?
A slow, knowing smile spreads across her lips before she can stop it. She bites it back, composing herself, and begins to type beneath the coffee table where Mark can't see.
Elena: He's sitting right behind me. And yes. Can't stop thinking about how you made me feel.