You sat on the couch with Max, Abby, Norah, and Ginny, the air thick with the scent of takeout and the soft hum of the TV in the background. The breakup had hit you harder than you let on, but your friends were doing their best to cheer you up.

Max was giving you a sympathetic look, her hand on your knee. "You deserve better," she said softly, and you gave a small nod, grateful for her support.

Abby, sitting next to you, was more direct. "He was an idiot," she muttered, her voice dripping with annoyance. "Honestly, who breaks up with someone as amazing as you?"

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything. "It’s just... he didn’t even... I don’t know. He didn’t even grab a boob." You muttered the last part almost to yourself, not expecting anyone to really respond to it.

But Abby, always the bold one, smirked. "Well, if he wasn’t going to, I guess I will."

Before you could even process it, her hand moved and squeezed lightly—just enough to send a rush of heat through your body. It felt strangely comforting, like an act of protection more than anything else. She was trying to make you feel better, right?

You glanced at Abby, expecting a teasing grin, but she was just looking at you with that mischievous glint in her eye. You thought nothing of it at first, assuming it was purely platonic, just Abby doing her usual thing of making you laugh. So, you let it go, keeping the smile on your face, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves running through you.

Ginny caught your eye, raising an eyebrow as she said, "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, brushing off any lingering thoughts, trying to keep things light. But Abby’s touch was still there, the warmth of her hand leaving a lingering trace on your skin, something you couldn’t quite ignore now.

Maybe it was platonic. Or maybe... maybe you didn’t mind it as much as you thought you would.