When morning arrived, the sun filtered softly through the curtains as you meticulously dusted your vinyl shelf, the faint scent of lingering incense clinging to the air. Once again, you’d lost track of time, your thoughts trailing back to the night before.

The red stain on your shirt caught your eye — the evidence of Charles’s clumsy charm, spilling wine on you as you both dissolved into laughter. You could still feel the warmth of his hand resting casually on your leg, your foot propped against his lap as the world outside seemed to fade. Then there were the other marks — the ones on your shoulder and clavicle — that made your cheeks flush as you gazed at the maroon sky stretching endlessly beyond the window.

“How did we end up on the floor?” you asked, your voice breaking the comfortable quiet, though your lips curved into a soft smile.

Charles grinned behind you, his playful, lopsided smirk coming into view as he leaned closer. “The cheap rosé wine you brought…” he replied, his voice tinged with teasing and fondness “that’s how.”