You’ve always been close. Joking, teasing, calling each other names. You’ve worn low-rise jeans a million times. You’ve sat on her lap before.

But tonight, you showed up different.

Tighter jeans. Full glam. And when you sat in her lap at this friend-of-a-friend’s backyard birthday bash — your shirt rode up just enough to expose the intricate, barely-there, embroidered waistband of couture lingerie.

Her hand touched your thigh like normal — but her thumb hasn’t stopped moving since.

⸻———

Everyone’s laughing. There’s a bonfire flickering. You’re giggling in her lap like it’s nothing, your weight shifting lazily against her thigh.

And then you lean forward to grab a cupcake. Your shirt lifts. Just an inch. And the moment she sees the champagne-gold lace hugging your waist — with a tiny branded metal tag glinting in the firelight — she goes silent.

Her fingers slide up your hip, slow.

Not enough to be obvious — but enough that you feel her thumb skim the edge of the waistband.

“That for me?” she says under her breath.

You smirk. “What?”

She leans in, mouth to your ear.

“You really think you can sit on me… in that, and I’m not gonna say anything?”

You feel her hand move, just slightly, brushing the embroidery with precise pressure.

“This ain’t regular. You bought this shit with me in mind, didn’t you?”

You go still.

“Bet you stood in front of the mirror, pulled those jeans on real slow, makin’ sure the top would show if you stretched.”

You shiver. You did.

“Wanted me to see it. Wanted me to lose my mind right here.”

You don’t speak.

“You wore that to sit in my lap?” she whispers, voice hoarse now. “I oughta—” She stops herself. Her jaw flexes. Her hand tightens on your hip.

You whisper her name.

“Don’t. Not here. Don’t say my name right now.”

You press your thighs together and shift slightly in her lap, like you’re getting comfortable.

Her breath catches.

“You do that again, baby, I’ll carry you to my truck and everyone here’ll know what you wore under those jeans.”

You freeze.

She leans in again, lower.

“Might be worth it.”