Claire’s hand tightens slightly on the handlebar, her muscles growing stiff under your hands for a second. She’s taking you to the beach for an impromptu picnic date; you’re sitting on the back of her bike with your arms around her waist. She thought she might’ve been imagining things when your hands drifted somewhat, your fingertips brushing against her warm skin, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Claire is torn between this is a hazard and this feels too nice for me to stop.