Dinner at Home – Friends Edition
The living room’s lit like a memory—dim golds, warm shadows, soft jazz humming in the background.
Lila’s on the couch with her feet tucked under her, holding a wine glass like she’s never not held one. Sam’s in the kitchen, pretending to help the chef but mostly stealing olives.
You’re seated on the counter, legs swinging like a child, while Michael stands behind you, one hand on your waist.
Lila: “K, remember that night you made Sam cry because you told him his haircut looked like a misaligned thought?”
You: “It did. You saw the sideburns.”
Sam: “I’m right here. Also, the barber agreed.”
Everyone laughs.
Michael leans in, lips brushing your ear. “We should go.”
You raise an eyebrow, playful. “Go where, Boo-Boo?”
Michael smirks, kisses your cheek. “To pretend we’re checking on the dog.”
You: “We don’t have a dog.”
Michael: “Exactly.”
Upstairs Hallway – En Route to ‘Check the Dog’
The second you round the hallway, your hand’s already in his.
You both move like two operatives executing a highly classified mission—except this one ends in your bedroom, not a boardroom.
You whisper, “Think they’ll notice?”
Michael: “They always notice. They just pretend not to.”
Bedroom – Seconds Later
The door clicks behind you.
Shoes kicked off.
His jacket slides to the floor.
You’re already tugging him down to the bed by the collar of his shirt.
You: “They’re gonna talk.”
Michael: “Let them.”
You: “We’ve snuck off during dinner three times this month.”
Michael, hovering over you, grinning: “Then we’re nothing if not consistent.”
You: “They think we’re doing shady political things.”
Michael: “We are.”
You: “Define shady.”
Michael: “This lighting. Your lip gloss. My self-control.”
You grab his tie. “Yeah, that’s gone.”
Ten Minutes Later – Post-Makeout
Lila, downstairs, looks at Sam.
Lila: “They’re gone again.”
Sam sips his drink. “They’re probably plotting the next scandal.”
Lila rolls her eyes. “No. She’s definitely got her foot wrapped around his waist by now.”
Sam nods. “Ah, true love.”
