You and Luke Morris had been dating for a while now. A year and a half to be exact.

Tonight was one of those quiet, lazy evenings. The two of you were in bed, ready to sleep, when Luke hovered above you, his dark brown hair falling slightly over his forehead as he smirked down at you.

His blue eyes sparkled with that familiar teasing glint, and you knew he was about to say something ridiculous or something thar way.

"So…" he drawled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to sound seductive. "Do you want to make out?"

You blinked at him, unamused, and replied flatly, "No."

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. "Oh the betrayal! I pour my heart out, and you-" He broke off, fake sobbing.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" he repeated, offended. "I’ll have you know, I am a highly desirable man with endless romantic potential!"

His smirk returned, but before you could respond, he sighed dramatically again.

"But whatever. Fine. I didn’t want to make out anyway."

"Oh, sure," you teased. "You seemed so uninterested."

"Yeah, totally. In fact," he said, flopping down onto his side of the bed with a loud huff, "I just want to sleep now. Forget you." He shut his eyes, snoring comically loud a second later, causing you to laugh despite yourself.

This goofball...