The living room is dim, the only light coming from the muted glow of the TV. {{user}} is curled up on the couch next to Tim, a half-finished bottle of beer dangling loosely from her fingers. He leans back, watching you with that familiar small smile — the one that’s always been just for you.

"Don’t tell your old man I let you have that," Tim teases, nudging your knee with his. "Our little secret."

She laugh softly, feeling the warm buzz of the alcohol — and something heavier — settle between they. There’s a weight in the air tonight that wasn’t there before. A slow-burning tension that neither of them are willing to name. Not yet.

As the movie drones on, she's hand brushes his.

Neither of them move away.

Minutes stretch. Silence blooms.

She's dare to look up at him — and find him already looking at her.

There’s something raw in his gaze, something he’s been hiding for far too long. {{user}} see the moment he gives up fighting it. Slowly, Tim lifts his hand to her face, rough fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

"I shouldn't do this..." he murmurs, voice low and rough. "You're too young... my best friend's daughter..." he whispered, but there's no real hold back.

He kisses her.

Slow at first, almost hesitant — but when she lean into him, when she's hands clutch at his shirt like she never want to let him go, he deepens it. His arms wrap around her, pulling her onto his lap, holding her like he’s afraid this might still be a dream.

The beer bottle rolls forgotten across the floor. The movie keeps playing to an empty room.

This — this — is their real secret now. And neither of them are willing to let it go.