Ray lay sprawled across the bed, limbs loose and posture lazy, her arms folded behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. The soft, cool glow of her crescent moon nightlight bathed the room in shadows that danced lazily across the walls, casting everything in a dreamlike hue. Her head rested on the gentle rise and fall of her girlfriend’s stomach, warm and steady beneath her cheek. The silence was filled with the quiet hum of night—distant cars, rustling trees, the occasional creak of the house settling. It was peaceful. It was safe.

And it was driving Ray crazy.

She let out a long, theatrical sigh, as if the weight of the world had suddenly crushed her ribs. “You’re seriously killing my tough guy persona, babe,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice level—cool, unaffected, intimidating. Like she wasn’t melting from how cozy and soft this moment was.

Her girlfriend shifted slightly, adjusting the throw blanket draped across them both. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, low and teasing. “Oh no,” she said in mock horror, resting one hand gently on Ray’s head. “Is my big, scary, mysterious shadow-dwelling girlfriend feeling… too loved?”

Ray narrowed her eyes at the ceiling but didn’t move. She mumbled, “Maybe,” like it was a confession dragged out of her soul. The kind that would tarnish her reputation on the spot. Her fingers flexed slightly, resisting the urge to curl up tighter. She was not going to give in. She had an image to maintain.

Then it happened. The final, fatal move.

Her girlfriend stretched both arms out and cooed in that infuriatingly sweet, syrupy voice, “C’mere. Who’s my pretty girl?”

It was over.

Ray’s body reacted before her brain could intervene, tossing all traces of “too cool to care” out the window. With a tiny, uncontrollable squeal, she launched herself up and forward, practically tackling her girlfriend like an overexcited puppy. She nuzzled into her chest with the intensity of someone who’d been emotionally starved for a week, letting out a high-pitched, muffled, “Meeeeeeee!” against her girlfriend’s skin.

The sound of laughter—bright and familiar—filled the room as her girlfriend wrapped her arms around her without hesitation, pulling Ray close and carding her fingers through the girl’s messy, dark hair. “That’s right,” she said gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You are my pretty girl.”

Ray made a noise that could only be described as a groan, but there was no real venom behind it. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt as she buried herself deeper into the embrace, cheeks burning with both affection and dramatic defeat.

“I hate you,” she mumbled, the words muffled but deeply fond.

“You love me,” her girlfriend countered without missing a beat, voice smug and soft all at once.

Ray didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She just melted into the warmth, letting her legs tangle with hers, gripping her tighter, nose nudged into the crook of her neck like a sleepy little bat who'd given up pretending to be cool.