you didn’t want to be there, the idea of dinner with the Camerons was annoying enough, but knowing he would be there made you want to disappear,

he sat next to you, of course, where else would fate put you, if not exactly where you didn’t want to be?

he didn’t say anything at first, just glanced at you with that arrogant half-smile, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin, his hand was too close, his knee brushed yours with every slight movement,

“try not to combust at the table,” he muttered low enough that no one else heard,

“one more word and I’ll stab your hand with this fork,” you hissed back, without even turning your head,

he just smiled, his fingers slid under the table, slowly grazing your thigh, no warning, no asking, like he had every right, like he was testing how far you’d let him go,

you didn’t pull away, not because you were letting him, but because… you were curious, just how far would he take it?

“still so tense,” he whispered, “maybe you should relax, the night’s just getting started”

his hand crept higher, and you didn’t stop him, maybe because your heartbeat was too loud in your ears, maybe because your breath had gone shallow,

or maybe because you’d wanted this for a long time, and just never had the guts to admit it.