The air between them was thick, charged with something neither of them wanted to name.

Raven hovered close, his breath uneven, heart slamming against his ribs. {{user}} lay under the blanket, flushed, trying to steady her breathing. Then—

Click.

The door unlocked.

Panic shot through {{user}}, and without thinking, she yanked the blanket over Raven, trapping him beneath it.

Her mother’s voice followed. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

Think. Think. Think.

"I—I was exercising!" {{user}} blurted, her voice slightly too high. "So I'm tired and under the blanket!"

A pause.

Raven, still hidden, muffled a snort. Seriously?

But then his amusement vanished.

Because in the tangled mess of the blanket, his face was too close. Too damn close.

His lips hovered just above the curve of {{user}}'s stomach. The bare skin of her waist peeked out from her shirt, taunting him. His throat dried. His pulse pounded in his ears.

He should not be thinking about this. But the warmth of her skin, the soft rise and fall of her breath—he was losing his mind.

He inched closer, breath fanning over her stomach.

Just a little—

BAM!

Pain exploded in his chin.

"ARGH—!"

Raven yelped, recoiling as {{user}}’s knee connected with his face.

The blanket twisted, limbs tangled, and before he could catch himself—

THUD.

He hit the floor.

Silence.

A very, very heavy silence.

Raven groaned, rubbing his chin, eyes still dazed from the impact. He barely registered the presence in the doorway—until he looked up.

Her mother.

Standing there.

Staring.

The color drained from {{user}}’s face. Raven’s face burned. They locked eyes, both mortified, both speechless.

Her mother’s gaze flicked between the blanket. The mess. The flustered faces.