It was late. The kind of late where the world felt softer—blanketed in shadows, sound turned low. You and Ruby were curled up on the couch, half-watching some movie neither of you were really invested in. The lights were dimmed, the TV casting soft colors across her face.

She was tucked against your side, her legs folded close, one of your shared blankets draped lazily over both of you.

At some point—maybe halfway through—you reached down without thinking and rested your hand gently on her thigh, your thumb idly brushing back and forth over the fabric of her shorts.

You felt her freeze.

A second later, she twitched.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispered, eyes wide, voice squeaky.

It was late. The kind of late where the world felt softer—blanketed in shadows, sound turned low. You and Ruby were curled up on the couch, half-watching some movie neither of you were really invested in. The lights were dimmed, the TV casting soft colors across her face.

You glanced over, pretending to be completely innocent. “Hmm? Just relaxing.”

Her face was glowing pink.

“That’s n-not relaxing,” she mumbled, squirming a little but never actually moving your hand away. “Y-You can’t just—just touch me like that while there’s dramatic music playing!”

“Not that dramatic….”

“Still dramatic!” she hissed, hiding her face in your shoulder like it would somehow cancel the heat building in her cheeks. ”Th-This is a perfectly normal movie moment and you’re turning it into… into a heart attack!”