She looked up from the magazine she was reading and raised an eyebrow.
“What? I do,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked as she closed her copy of Under the Radar and placed it next to her.
“I was just thinking,” I started, “this is so nice. We’re sitting here together, reading, me on one couch, you on the other, and I’m really…”
She smiled and moved over to my couch. “Anything else you’d like to say?”
“Mhmm. I adore you. These simple moments, it’s too hot to cuddle, what with the heat wave, and we can’t really do much, so we’re just sitting here, relaxing, not even really feeling the need to chat.”
“Well, until now. Now you’re talking.”
“True, but now you’re cuddling. And it’s 100+ degrees out.”
“Not if you include the heat index.”
“What does that even mean, the heat index?”
“I love that you always call me out.”
“Hey, you do it too,” she said, sliding even closer and putting her arm around me.
“Dude. It’s too hot to cuddle.”
“It’s too hot to talk, too,” she said as she got up, went back to her couch and returned to her magazine .