A month in and nothing had a name.

Which somehow made it worse.

You and Courtney existed in a strange in between where everything mattered and nothing was official. No announcements. No labels. Just glances that lingered too long and conversations that dropped into something softer when you were alone.

And the touches. Always the touches.

Today was an Uno video.

You sat at the table between Courtney and Angela, with Chanse across from you and Shayne at the far end already shuffling cards like he had something to prove.

“Okay,” Angela said. “House rules. No mercy.”

“You say that every time,” Chanse replied. “And then you apologize when you win.”

Courtney leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “I never apologize.”

You felt her knee brush yours under the table. Once. Twice. Like it was accidental.

It was not.

“Stop flirting and deal,” Shayne said without looking up.

Courtney scoffed. “Bold accusation. I am literally just sitting here.”

You bit back a smile as her pinky hooked around yours beneath the table, hidden by the edge. Your heart kicked like it was the first time all over again.

The game started. Chaos followed.

Angela slammed down a Draw Four and laughed like a villain. Chanse complained loudly. Shayne threatened to flip the table.

Courtney stayed focused, expression neutral for the cameras, but her thumb traced slow circles against your knuckle, grounding and soft.

“You are cheating,” you whispered.

They did not look at you. “I am multitasking.”

When you played a Reverse, Courtney glanced over and murmured, “Nice.”

The way she said it made your chest warm.

Halfway through the game, you leaned over to grab a card and Courtney’s hand slid to your lower back for just a second. Barely there. Like instinct. Like she caught herself too late.

Her eyes flicked to yours.

You raised an eyebrow.

She mouthed, sorry.

You shook your head slightly. Do not be.

Later, you got hit with a Draw Two and groaned. Courtney laughed under her breath and leaned in.

“If it helps,” they whispered, “I would have protected you.”

“Wow,” you replied. “So romantic.”

She smirked. “I contain multitudes.”

Chanse squinted at the two of you. “Why do I feel like I am interrupting something.”

“You are not,” Courtney said quickly.

Her foot pressed gently against yours under the table.

Angela grinned. “Sure.”

By the end of the game, you were out first, betrayed by everyone. Courtney won. She did not gloat. Instead, she slid one of her cards toward you and whispered, “For moral support.”

You laughed softly, and she smiled like she had won twice.

When filming wrapped, everyone scattered. Courtney lingered.

She cleared her throat. “So. Uh. Coffee later.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I would like that.”

She hesitated, then brushed her fingers against yours, this time in plain sight.

Still small. Still careful. Still real.

A month in and you were not rushing it.

Somehow, that felt perfect.