Ava
After the whirlwind that was our airport experience, neither of us had the energy to go out. The crowds, delays, and general chaos had worn us down, leaving Caleb and me with one shared goal: a quiet night in. The idea of leaving the cozy suite seemed laughable, especially when room service was just a phone call away.
I sprawled out on the bed, phone in hand as I scrolled through the room service menu, trying to make sense of all the decadent options. Caleb, lounging beside me, ran his fingertips lightly up and down my leg, his casual touch sending warm shivers through me.
"You're not even looking at the menu," he teased, his voice deep and playful. "How are we going to decide on food if you can't focus?"
I glanced over at him, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face.
"You're the one distracting me with all this… hovering. How am I supposed to pick between steak or pasta when you're practically draped all over me?"