After spending some time catching up with Lucas's parents, Amy and Lucas retired to his bedroom, aiming to grab a little rest before their planned visit to Amy's mom.
The house was quiet, save for the occasional creaks that seemed to follow the natural rhythm of the day. Outside, birds chirped lazily, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, filling the room with a sense of calm.
On the bed, Lucas lay on his side, his arm draped gently over Amy's waist, pulling her closer until her back rested against his chest.
It was their first time lying so close together, a quiet intimacy that had built up over weeks of deep conversations, pure friendship, and genuine laughter.
Despite the room's coolness and Lucas's soothing breathing rhythm, Amy felt hot and restless.
She was acutely aware of every point of contact between them— his arm around her waist, his breath against her neck, the press of his body along the length of hers.
