Sophie sprawled on the couch, legs draped over the armrest like a relaxed starfish, her phone glued to her ear. Tom's voice, smooth as melted chocolate, filled the room. She smiled, a dreamy expression softening her features as she idly twirled a strand of hair.
"So, how's my favorite girl doing?" Tom purred, his voice dripping with charm that could melt glaciers.
"Exhausted," Sophie sighed dramatically, letting out a theatrical groan. "Ethan dragged me through a beach volleyball game that involved more sand than a desert, a kayaking trip where we almost became one with the fishes, and I think we might have accidentally won a hula contest. I'm pretty sure I saw a seagull judging us."
Tom chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. "That sounds...chaotic. But fun, right?"
"Oh, tons of fun," Sophie said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Ethan's face during the hula contest? Priceless. He looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon dipped in chili peppers."
Tom's laughter echoed through the phone, making Sophie's chest flutter. It was a familiar, comforting sound, a cozy blanket on a chilly night.
"How's work?" she asked, shifting gears.
"Busy as a bee in a honey factory. But I closed a big deal today," he announced, his voice brimming with self-satisfaction.
"Look at you, Mr. Big Shot," Sophie teased, her tone light and playful.
"You know it," he replied, his confidence oozing through the phone. "Wish I could've joined you on this trip. But someone's gotta keep the corporate world spinning."
A pang of guilt tugged at Sophie's heart. She understood Tom's dedication—it was part of what she loved about him. But a tiny voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, she wished he prioritized them a little more.
"How did we even meet again?" she asked suddenly, a playful lilt in her voice. "I feel like it was a rom-com gone horribly, hilariously wrong."
Tom chuckled. "Ah, yes. The coffee shop incident."
Sophie laughed, the memory vivid. Juggling two coffees, her bag, and a mountain of files, she'd collided with him, showering his pristine white shirt with caffeinated destruction.
"I thought you were going to throttle me," she confessed.
"I was annoyed," Tom admitted. "But then I saw how flustered you were, and I couldn't stay mad. You looked like a guilty puppy who'd just eaten my homework."
"Gee, thanks," Sophie said sarcastically, though a smile played on her lips.
"You were cute," Tom added, his voice softening. "And when you offered to pay for my dry cleaning, I knew I had to ask you out."
"And here we are," Sophie whispered, a fond smile gracing her lips.
"Here we are," Tom echoed, his voice filled with warmth.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that spoke volumes. But even as Sophie enjoyed the conversation, a nagging feeling lingered—a subtle unease, a sense that something was missing.
"Are you happy, Tom?" she asked, the question surprising even herself.
"What kind of question is that?" he replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.
"I don't know," Sophie said quickly, trying to backpedal. "Forget I asked."
But Tom didn't let it go. "I'm happy, Sophie. Aren't you?"
She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the window, where the moon cast a silvery glow on the room.
"Yeah," she said eventually, her voice quiet. "I am."
And she was... mostly. Tom was everything she thought she wanted: kind, ambitious, reliable. But a tiny seed of doubt had been planted.
Later that night, Ethan burst into the room like a caffeinated tornado, his face a mask of frustration and exhaustion.
"Who invented snorkeling, anyway?" he grumbled, tossing his bag onto the floor with the force of a small explosion.
Sophie, still sprawled on the couch, looked up, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Ethan, have you considered yoga? You're wound tighter than a spring."
Ethan shot her a withering glare, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "I'd rather wrestle a shark."
Sophie laughed, the memory of her conversation with Tom fading into the background. Ethan flopped into the armchair, his head lolling back as he let out a dramatic sigh.
"I don't get how you have so much energy," he said, his eyes closed. "I'm running on fumes, and you're radiating sunshine."
"Good genes," Sophie replied smugly, earning a snort from Ethan.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind shared only by two people who knew each other intimately.
"You were chatting with Tom," Ethan said after a while, his tone casual, but his eyes were sharp.
Sophie nodded, sitting up. "Yeah. He called to check in."
Ethan's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he masked it with a yawn. "Nice of him."
Sophie didn't notice the subtle shift in his demeanor. She stretched, her shirt riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin. Ethan quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing despite himself.
"What's he like?" Ethan asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Sophie's face lit up. "Tom? He's... wonderful. Kind, hardworking, funny... sometimes."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes?"
"Okay, he's not a stand-up comedian," Sophie admitted, laughing. "But he's sweet. And he really cares about me."
Ethan didn't reply, a storm brewing inside him. He forced a smile. "Sounds like a great guy."
"He is," Sophie said softly, her gaze distant, lost in thoughts of Tom.
Ethan swallowed hard, pushing down the unexpected surge of jealousy. This was her happiness, and that was all that mattered.
Right?