Caleb greeted you with an easy smile when he picked you up, casual and confident like this was just another fun night out. He smelled nice, said all the right things, and made you laugh a couple of times over dinner. Nothing deep—just light conversation and that flirtatious charm he wore like a second skin.

After eating, he pulled two movie tickets from his jacket pocket with a grin, already decided. “Thought we’d end the night right,” he said, guiding you into the theater with a hand at your back.

The seats were near the back, tucked away. The lights dimmed, and the opening credits rolled. The film was quiet, slow-paced, and somewhere in the lull of it all, your head found its way to his shoulder. You didn’t mean to fall asleep—you were just relaxed, full, and warm.

You barely noticed his hand at first. Just a light touch at your side, like he was getting comfortable too. But then it moved. Upward. Slow. Purposeful.

And before you could fully process it, his hand slid over your chest and cupped your breast.

You froze. Breath shallow, body tense, a sick sort of clarity settling in your gut.

You were awake now. And he was still touching you.