Van is totally locked in—eyes wide, elbows on her knees, mouthing along with the dialogue before the characters can even speak. “Okay—okay, listen to this part. This is the best line in the whole thing,” she whispers, not even glancing at you.

You’re curled up beside her on her bed, the glow of the TV casting soft light over her face. You lean in and press a kiss to her neck, slow and warm.

Nothing.

Not even a flinch.

She’s too busy gesturing vaguely at the screen. “God, the blocking in this scene? It’s insane. Like—look how the actors move, it’s all intentional. They mirror each other’s body language and everything. No one was doing it like this in the ’70s.”

You try again—another kiss, a little higher this time, brushing right beneath her ear.

Van just squints at the screen, oblivious. “And the sound design? Like you can hear the tension. That low hum in the background? It’s not even part of the score—it’s just, like, ambient dread. So smart.”

You stifle a laugh against her skin and press a third kiss, teeth grazing just slightly.

Still nothing.

Van just waves a hand toward the TV, breathless. “Wait—this part! Watch this transition. It’s a single take. I swear, if they’d given this guy a real budget, he would’ve changed the whole damn industry.”

You lean back, smirking. She’s completely unaware, eyes practically sparkling with excitement as she launches into a full-on rant about the cinematographer’s use of shadows.

Your girlfriend, the biggest nerd in the world, absolutely loves movies.

And right now, she has no idea she’s being kissed at all.