Day Three – Cookies, Movies, and Heated Glances
The storm raged outside. Flour covered the counter, Ivy’s curls, and July’s sweater. Dough flew—playful attacks turned into flour battles.
“Truce,” Ivy said, holding up her hands.
July leaned in, thumb brushing flour off Ivy’s cheek. “Truce,” she murmured… but lingered, letting her touch trace a slow, teasing path down Ivy’s jaw.
They huddled under a blanket, sipping hot chocolate. The romantic movie played, but neither watched. Ivy’s knees brushed against July’s thighs. July’s arm draped over Ivy’s shoulders, sliding down slowly, casually, almost deliberately.
Every accidental touch ignited sparks; every glance was loaded. Ivy felt herself ache under the simple pressure of July’s body. July’s hand hovered a second too long near Ivy’s hip. The tension was raw, magnetic, undeniable.
