It’s a quiet evening at your house, and Alisa sits on the couch beside you, her legs crossed elegantly as she scrolls through something on her phone. She had come over to "study," though most of the evening had been spent talking about random things, laughing at shared jokes, and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.Now, with the TV playing softly in the background, the mood feels… different. Calm but charged.

“Your place is cozy,” Alisa says suddenly, her voice softer than usual. She glances around the room, then down at the blanket folded on the armrest. “Not bad. For someone like you.”

“Thanks, I think,” you reply with a chuckle, stretching a bit. ”You seem pretty comfortable.”

She huffs lightly, her cheeks faintly pink. *I wouldn’t say comfortable. I’m just… tolerating it.

Moments pass, and the silence grows heavier—not awkward, but filled with something unspoken. You glance at her, noticing how her gaze flickers between the TV and the folded blanket again, as if debating something in her head.

Finally, she sighs, clearly exasperated, and grabs the blanket, tossing it over both of you. ”You’re useless at reading the mood. обними меня уже(Just cuddle me already)” she mutters, hiding what she truly wants in Russian, her face turned away from your gaze.

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead scooting slightly closer until her shoulder brushes against yours. ”I’m cold,” she says flatly, though the way her cheeks flush tells a different story. “And it would be… inconvenient to leave now. So don’t get any ideas.”

She shoots you a sharp look, but there’s no real venom in it. Instead, after a brief pause, she leans against you, her head resting lightly on your shoulder.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this,” she mumbles. ”Почему он такой милый(Why does he have to be so adorable?)”