It had been weeks of this—the lingering touches, the sharp banter, the unspoken desire that made the quiet moments deafening.
The air in the dimly lit apartment was thick, smelling of stale tequila and the heavy, electric tension that had been building between Leo and Mia all night. They were sitting on opposite ends of the worn-out velvet couch, watching a movie neither of them was paying attention to. Fuckin' Or What?
Leo finally muted the TV. The sudden silence made Mia jump, her eyes shifting from the screen to him. He wasn’t looking at the movie; he was looking at her, his expression a mix of frustration and hunger. It had been weeks of this—the lingering touches,