She’s standing there with her hair in a ponytail and a thick sweater over her shoulders covering her little dress that she had on earlier. She’s carrying a beach tote with a bottle of wine sticking out and what looks like a tablet.

“This movie is downloaded and ready,” she says with a smile before I let her in.

Her thin legs stick out of the bottom of her short dress, and I want nothing but to creep my hand up to see where they go. Movie be damned.

“Come on in,” I say with a smile. She doesn’t hesitate as she drops her bag by the door. I can’t help but notice the way her eyes stay on me without doing that thing where people look around a room they enter for the first time, scoping the place out. She doesn’t care about my apartment.

She loops her arms around my neck and presses up to kiss me, and I respond by tucking my hand under her ass and pulling her body against mine.

Our kiss gets heated as I press her against the back of the door after shutting it. There’s no way I’m going to make it through a movie with this hard-on.

Hopping down from my hold, she mumbles against my ear, “Now, now. We have a deal and a movie to watch.” Then she slithers out of my hold and walks toward the center of the room. I catch her standing in the middle of the room, looking around.

Oh shit. It’s too small. Or just too fucking depressing.

Her hands rise in the air as if she’s confused. “Where’s your couch?”

“It’s a studio,” I laugh. “I don’t have a couch.”

“So we have to lay on your bed to watch the movie?” she says, glancing back at me with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck. Fuck, I feel like a creep. This was a terrible idea.

Then she just climbs on my bed and sits against the headboard, patting the space next to her. “Fine by me. You’re the one who’s going to struggle.”

I let out a laugh, watching her and all of her boldness. Her bare legs are crossed on my bed, and I think I might actually die from having to watch this movie next to her.

About twenty minutes into the movie, I find myself getting really interested in the story. So much so that I stop thinking about Sierra’s legs draped over mine. Or the smell of her shampoo in my nose as she rests her head on my chest.

She’s halfway through her bottle of wine so I slow down on my beer. I don’t want to break our deal, and I especially don’t want to be doing it because we’re both drunk.

“This is the best part,” she whispers. It’s another dance, and I can see why she says that. Even I’m tapping my foot along with the music.

When the credits finally roll, it’s almost midnight. Sierra stretches her legs next to me, and suddenly, the expectation in the air is almost suffocating. She glances up at me, and I notice her cheeks and ears are redder than normal, probably due to the wine.