Riza's Intrusive Thoughts
The moment the juice from her burger betrayed her, Riza froze, the warm liquid sliding down her neck and pooling just above her collarbone. She stared at the mess in disbelief, half-annoyed, half-mortified.
"Ugh," she muttered under her breath, trying to assess the damage without making it worse. Her eyes darted to Pepper, who was already chuckling at her misfortune.
"Hold still, I'll help," he said, his voice casual as he reached for the napkins.
Her heart skipped a beat as she sat there, stiff and uncertain. Why am I letting him do this? she thought as he leaned in, dabbing at the sauce on her shirt. She felt the warmth of his hand near hers, the proximity making her hyper-aware of every small movement.
It's just cleaning up. Friends do this, right? she told herself, trying to ignore the faint heat rising in her cheeks. But as his hand moved closer to her neck, her mind betrayed her with a barrage of intrusive thoughts.
Does he think this is weird?
Why does this feel so... intense?
Is he blushing too? No, stop. Don't look at his face.
When his voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, telling her to turn her head, she obeyed automatically. She felt the napkin brush against her skin, the cool touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating through her. She tried to focus on anything else—the sounds of the diner, the distant hum of conversation—but her mind refused to cooperate.
This is too close. He's probably just being polite. Or maybe he's annoyed? Ugh, why did I even ask him to do this?
As his hand lingered just below her collarbone, she felt her breath hitch slightly. Okay, this is officially awkward. Say something. No, don't say anything. Just sit still. Act normal.
She glanced down, noticing how close he was to the edge of her neckline, and a fresh wave of panic washed over her. If he goes any lower, I might actually die on the spot.
Just as she was about to awkwardly thank him and call it good, the door slid open, and Lydia's voice filled the booth, breaking the tension like a thunderclap.
"Oh. My. God."
Riza's stomach dropped as she realized the scene Lydia had walked in on—Pepper leaning in, napkin in hand, his focus entirely on her neck, while she sat there, looking like she was enjoying it far more than she should have been.
After Lydia Left
When Lydia finally walked out, leaving behind her barrage of teasing remarks, Riza slumped back in her seat, burying her face in her hands. The warmth from earlier hadn't faded, and her mind was still racing.
"So thoughtful. And so… intimate."
Lydia's words echoed in her head, and while she hated to admit it, they struck a nerve. She glanced at Pepper, who had settled back into his seat, his expression unreadable as he sipped his milkshake.
Was it intimate? No, it was just cleaning. He was just being a good friend. That's all.
But another voice in her mind whispered back. Good friends don't usually wipe sauce off your neck. And you weren't exactly complaining, were you?
She groaned internally, trying to push the thought away. There's no way he sees me like that. He's just... Pepper. He doesn't think about me like that.
Still, the memory of his focused expression, his closeness, lingered longer than she wanted it to. And what if he did? Would that even be so bad?
Her face burned at the thought, and she quickly shook her head. Nope. Not going there.
She looked at him again, watching as he quietly went back to his food. He caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, his tone light.
"Nothing," she said quickly, tearing her eyes away. She picked up her burger again, determined to get through the rest of it without another disaster.
But as she bit into it, the intrusive thoughts crept back in, soft but persistent. Maybe Lydia's not completely wrong.
Pepper's Intrusive Thoughts
The moment Riza's burger betrayed her, sending a streak of sauce and juice down her neck, I caught her wide-eyed look of dismay and immediately felt my stomach twist. She didn't even try to clean it herself—just sat there, looking helpless and annoyed. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
"Hold still, I'll help."
Why did I say that? I should've handed her the napkins and let her deal with it. But no, now I was leaning in, napkin in hand, dabbing at her shirt like some overeager butler.
It's just sauce, I told myself, trying to keep my hand steady. She's your best friend. No big deal. Totally normal.
But as I worked my way up to her neck, my brain decided to betray me. The soft glow of the restaurant's lights seemed to highlight every detail—the curve of her jaw, the slight flush on her cheeks. My hand hovered just below her collarbone, and I realized how close I was. Too close.
Okay, this is weird. Is this weird? It feels weird.
"Turn your head," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos in my brain. She tilted her head without question, exposing her neck. My pulse quickened as I carefully wiped the streak of sauce away, trying to focus on the task and not the fact that her skin felt warm under my touch.
This is fine. Just cleaning. Nothing more. Don't make it more.
But the thoughts came anyway, unbidden and relentless. Does she think this is weird? Why did she even let me do this? Is she blushing? Or am I imagining it?
As I wiped the last of the sauce just above her collarbone, my hand brushed dangerously close to the edge of her neckline. I froze, suddenly hyper-aware of every millimeter between us.
I focused on the sauce near the edge of her neckline, trying to ignore how warm my own face felt. She's your best friend, man. Don't make this weird.
Just as I was about to call it good and retreat, the sound of the door sliding open shattered the moment.
"Oh. My. God."
Lydia's voice hit like a grenade. I froze, napkin still in hand, as my mind scrambled to process what had just happened. I didn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking. Of course this would happen now. Of course she'd walk in at the worst possible moment.
Flashback: Pepper's Intrusive Thoughts
The moment Riza's burger betrayed her, sending a streak of sauce and juice down her neck, I caught her wide-eyed look of dismay and immediately felt my stomach twist. She didn't even try to clean it herself—just sat there, looking helpless and annoyed. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
"Hold still, I'll help."
Why did I say that? I should've handed her the napkins and let her deal with it. But no, now I was leaning in, napkin in hand, dabbing at her shirt like some overeager butler.
It's just sauce, I told myself, trying to keep my hand steady. She's your best friend. No big deal. Totally normal.
But as I worked my way up to her neck, my brain decided to betray me. The soft glow of the restaurant's lights seemed to highlight every detail—the curve of her jaw, the slight flush on her cheeks. My hand hovered just below her collarbone, and I realized how close I was. Too close.
Okay, this is weird. Is this weird? It feels weird.
"Turn your head," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos in my brain. She tilted her head without question, exposing her neck. My pulse quickened as I carefully wiped the streak of sauce away, trying to focus on the task and not the fact that her skin felt warm under my touch.
This is fine. Just cleaning. Nothing more. Don't make it more.
But the thoughts came anyway, unbidden and relentless. Does she think this is weird? Why did she even let me do this? Is she blushing? Or am I imagining it?
As I wiped the last of the sauce just above her collarbone, my hand brushed dangerously close to the edge of her neckline. I froze, suddenly hyper-aware of every millimeter between us.
Don't go any lower. Don't make this awkward. Just back away, now.
But I didn't move. For some reason, I couldn't pull back immediately. My fingers hovered for a split second too long, and my brain decided to go into overdrive.
Why does this feel so... intimate? No, stop. It's not. She's Riza. My best friend. She doesn't see me like that. Hell, she probably thinks this is gross.
I finally pulled my hand away, clearing my throat awkwardly. "There," I mumbled. "All clean."
She didn't say anything, just gave a quick nod, her face unreadable. I leaned back, pretending to focus on my food, but my heart was racing. The napkin still felt warm in my hand, and I could swear my face was as red as the ketchup on the table.
Before I could spiral further, the door to the booth slid open, and Lydia's voice rang out, loud and incredulous.
"Oh. My. God."
I froze, my head snapping toward her like a guilty child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in the scene—me leaning back awkwardly, napkin still in hand, and Riza sitting stiffly, her neck still slightly pink from where I'd wiped it.
Lydia's smirk widened, and her voice dripped with faux surprise. "So thoughtful. And so... intimate."
Oh no. No, no, no. I could feel my face heating up as her words sank in. She knew exactly what she was doing, and there was no way to defend myself without making it worse. I glanced at Riza, hoping for backup, but she was frozen, her cheeks a brilliant shade of red.
Lydia's teasing continued, each word digging the hole deeper. By the time she finally left, I could barely look at Riza, and I sure as hell couldn't trust myself to speak.
After Lydia Left
When Lydia was gone, the tension in the booth was so thick you could've cut it with a knife. I leaned back in my seat, taking a long sip of my milkshake to cool off. My thoughts, however, refused to settle.
"So thoughtful. And so... intimate."
Her words echoed in my head, and I hated how much they made sense. I had leaned in too close. I had lingered too long. And yeah, it had felt... something.
I glanced at Riza out of the corner of my eye. She was still red-faced, focusing intently on her burger like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe. I looked away quickly, afraid she'd catch me staring.
She doesn't see me like that, I told myself firmly. She's Riza. We're friends. Best friends. That's it.
But the memory of her letting me clean her neck, the way she'd turned her head so easily, lingered stubbornly in my mind. And for just a second, I wondered: What if?
I shook my head, brushing the thought aside. No. Not happening. She deserves better than... whatever this is. Better than me.
I took another sip of my milkshake, trying to drown the thought in chocolate. But Lydia's voice still rang in my ears, and for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure she was wrong.