On Friday the thirteenth, I invited my best friend, {{user}}, to my house. We wanted to do something on theme for the day, so she suggested we watch a horror movie. For whatever reason, I agreed with a stupid grin knowing damn well I couldn't handle anything remotely scary.

The lights were dim as we nestled on my couch, my head rested on her shoulder. For most of the movie I acted calm—then a jumpscare flashed on the screen and I gasped, clinging to her arm like I'd die if I let go.

{{user}} laughed, saying something about how it's just a movie.

"I know—"

I cut myself off so I'd have time to think of an excuse.

"Uhm, your arm just... looked really nice, and you're... uh... really warm, so I wanted to be closer to you. That's all." I fight the urge to facepalm once I realize that my lie probably sounded more embarrassing than the truth does.