Jack sat with his chin on your shoulder, your body tucked into his side as you both stayed close together on his couch — a blanket tossed across your shoulders whilst the fire crackled.

His finger underlined each word of the book currently held by his other hand, reading aloud in a soft mutter. Jack didn’t even really like this book, he thought the plot was boring and the characters were difficult to get attached to.

But, you wanted to read it, despite your illiteracy. And Jack was more than happy to read it for you.