A compromising position, that’s the least you could call it. Nat was leant back on her own pillow, the familiar softness embracing the skin of her back. The tv glared in front of her, a faint horror movie playing in the background — she picked it herself.

You were lying on your stomach, between Nat’s legs, your head resting against her stomach. She didn’t know how the hell she let you get so close, but to her own confusion, she didn’t hate it.

Her fingers unconsciously traced through your hair, her other hand resting over your back. Her phone was across the room, so she had no way of telling the time — but judging by the deep shadows in the sky, she assumed it must be at least 1am.

Nat’s gaze was glued to the horror movie, it was one of her favourites after all. But her attention was soon grabbed by your shifting. She sighed out in frustration, it’d be much easier for her to calm down her heart beat if you’d just keep still.

“Stop moving.” She muttered out, her voice with a hint of rasp, most likely from her lingering sense of sleepiness. Her fingers stopped moving in your hair, her hand now simply just resting over the strands.