Jan. Week 3: A Long Weekend-Movies...Leah rejects his advances (Luck: +10 Lust: -20).

Leah fixed Daniel with a look that managed to communicate both “not now” and “are you five?” in a single, withering glare. She batted his hand away from her knee, then—in a move so rehearsed it could have been choreography—reached for the popcorn bucket and set it decisively between them. A silent, butter-greased boundary. But Daniel only grinned, undeterred, and started in on some ridiculous commentary about the movie, his voice barely a whisper but loaded with innuendo.

“Did you see that?” he murmured, gesturing at the screen, where a female lead in spandex was locked in a cartoonish embrace with a square-jawed hero. “That’s hardly even a metaphor. They’re practically dry-humping.”

“You’re insufferable,” Leah said. She kept her eyes glued to the screen, but her mouth couldn’t help quirking at the corners.

“C’mon, you know you love it. Admit it: you’d rather be getting railed in the back row than watching this garbage.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she crossed her legs, fortress-style, and tried to focus on the movie. The plot was idiotic, the dialogue worse, but that was the point. Mindless distraction. Not an invitation for Daniel to launch a grope offensive. But the more she tried to ignore him, the more he doubled down on the theatrics—leaning over to “whisper” jokes in her ear, his lips brushing her earlobe, his hand making periodic forays across the great popcorn divide. By the halfway mark, Leah was fighting a losing battle against the giggles. If anyone in the theater turned around, they’d see two full-grown adults behaving like horny teenagers at a church lock-in.

“I’m serious,” she said as she rejected another one of his advances, and she was. She needed to be. It was risky enough just being here with him. If anyone saw them—someone from school, or worse, Jonathan’s friends, or nightmare scenario, a parent—she’d be dead. Not just fired or shamed. Earth shatteringly done and gone.

When the credits rolled, Daniel stood up first and offered her a hand, but Leah ignored it, grabbing her purse and marching toward the exit. She didn’t stop until they were out in the lobby and surrounded by the shriek of arcade games and the odor of spilled soda. She needed air in her lungs and distance from Daniel’s orbit.

He caught up, of course, and fell into step beside her. “Look, I’m sorry,” Daniel said, and he almost sounded like he meant it. “I’m used to you being…what’s the word…eager.”

“Times change, Daniel, that was before you cheated on me and before I found a loving fiancé,” Leah said, but her voice lacked bite. She was mostly just tired. Tired of the game, tired of always having to out-maneuver her own hormones, tired of the constant, lurking fear that she was about to blow everything up.

“Hey,” Daniel said, voice soft. “You wanna go get ice cream or something? Like, actually just ice cream?”

Leah almost laughed. She considered it—really considered it—but then shook her head.

“I should get home. I’ve got a ton of grading. And lesson plans. And, you know, a fiancé.”

“Some other time, then?” Daniel’s smile flickered, but he didn’t argue.

“Maybe.” she said, shooting him a coy smile before departing.

She drove home in silence, the city lights blurring in her periphery.