Scott had developed a habit of sneaking into your cabin in the middle of the night. It was his method of finding comfort—or so you thought. Most nights, he'd snuggle in next you, pull you close, and fall asleep in minutes, his arms tightly wrapped around you. Tonight, however—was different.

He wasn’t cuddling you.

Instead, he lay with his back turned, body stiff, radiating an air of bratty defiance that was impossible to miss. The usual warmth you’d come to expect was nowhere to be found, and something about the way his shoulders were hunched made it clear—he was mad.

You tried to close the gap by inching closer and brushing your palm on his arm in an attempt to encourage him back into his typical warm demeanor. But Scott wasn't having it

He shifted aside with an exaggerated huff, murmuring something ridiculous into the pillow.

“I don’t want to cuddle,” he said finally, his tone sharp, with just the right amount of sass to make you blink in surprise.

It wasn’t like Scott to refuse your touch. dramatic, sure. Stubborn—absolutely. But this? This felt like something else entirely.