The bus was quiet now, the noise of the trip gradually fading into the background. The only sounds left were the gentle hum of the engine and the soft breathing of your classmates, the kind of silence that settles in when everyone has finally relaxed after a long day. You couldn’t help but notice how different the atmosphere had become. The lights outside flickered dimly through the windows, casting faint shadows over the seats, and in that peaceful stillness, it felt like the entire world had faded away, leaving just you and Marc.

You were sitting there, reading your book, your focus drifting in and out as the dim light from the window barely illuminated the pages. Marc was beside you, his eyes glued to his phone as he played a game, his fingers tapping rapidly on the screen. He was always so competitive, even with something as simple as a phone game, but tonight it felt oddly different.

Then, you felt it—his large hand, warm and unexpectedly steady, land on your thigh.

Your breath hitched, and your heart seemed to skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time Marc had teased you with playful touches like this, but tonight, something about it made everything feel more intense. The touch, though casual in the past, lingered just a moment longer this time. His fingers rested on your skin, and the air between you both seemed to hum with an unspoken energy.

You glanced at him quickly, noticing the mischievous smirk playing on his lips. You were both awake in a way that felt private, like everyone else was lost in their own world, but you two were aware of everything.

You and Marc had been friends forever, practically inseparable since elementary school. You knew each other’s quirks, annoyances, and jokes so well that it was second nature. But this… This felt like something new. The playfulness you were used to had deepened into something more subtle, more intimate, something neither of you had acknowledged yet. His hand on your thigh was not just a playful gesture anymore—it felt like a silent conversation.