January Weekend 1: Leah rejects Jonathan's advances (Luck: +5)

Leah chuckled at Jonathan’s suggestive eyebrow-wiggle and faux-innocent tone, her face flushing with a blend of amusement and post-dinner wine.

“Jonathan, don’t make me laugh!” she groaned, clutching her stomach in exaggerated agony. “I’m so full, if you tried to stuff me with anything tonight I think I’d explode. It’d be all your fault and you’d have to get a mop.”

He snorted, an endearing snort that made his glasses slip down his nose, and scooted closer, his hand sneaking under the throw blanket to squeeze her thigh.

“Not even a little taste?” he murmured, nuzzling beneath her ear. “Not even a nibble? I’ve got some very exclusive, locally sourced Jonathan for you right here.” He gestured suggestively at his lap under the blanket.

“You’re incorrigible,” she whispered, but let herself lean into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers. The truth was, she was exhausted, her mental reserves still running on fumes from the week of classes and the overstimulation of the festival.

“Maybe later tonight,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and letting her fingers drift teasingly along the waistband of his sweatpants, just enough to stoke the fire and keep him hungry. “I need to digest first. If I do anything strenuous now, I’ll probably just roll off the couch and die.”

Jonathan laughed, a little too loudly, and nestled himself into her side with a contented sigh. “I’ll try not to take it personally,” he said, “and I’m going to hold you to ‘maybe later.’ I know its been a long day babe.”

He was always so considerate, so kind to her and Leah’s heart melted just a little more at that.

They binge-watched two episodes of a trashy reality show before Leah, lulled by the warmth and the feeling of safety, slid into a haze of gentle sleep, her head on Jonathan’s chest and his heartbeat calm beneath her cheek.