You don’t even bother asking yourself how you ended up in this situation.

Because you already knew why.

I mean, you couldn’t say no to Lewis Hamilton.

When Lewis had invited you over and suggested watching a horror movie, your initial hesitation had been thrown out the window the minute his brown eyes had softened into that familiar puppy dog eyes look.

You despised horror movies.

But yeah- there was no way you’d say no to that look. He clearly knew exactly what he was doing.

You sit curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over you and pressed up to your face, your grip tight and unrelenting on it, as though it was meant to protect you from the movie.

This was a terrible idea.

You flinch at the sudden jump scare on screen, absentmindedly turning into Lewis and grabbing onto his arm, your face pressed to his bicep.

A laugh rumbles through him, his arm shaking slightly from it.

“Scaredy cat.” He teases, gently titling your head up so you’re looking at him.

His smile widens, his arm coming around you to tuck you into his side. “Relax, it’s just a movie.”