She joins him on the couch

The couch was worn, the cushions sagging toward the center, which **** Emma to press her hip directly against Ben’s side. There was no space to retreat. Ben didn't offer any, either; he widened his stance, his knee resting firmly against the side of her thigh. The contact was deliberate, the rough denim of his jeans grating against the fabric of her leggings.

Ben held the controller loosely in one hand, extending it toward her with the other. "Look, just push this trigger when the crosshair turns red," he instructed, his voice a low, rasping register that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them. When Emma reached for the controller, Ben didn't pull his hand away. He let his fingers wrap over the back of hers, his palm warm and slightly clammy, guiding her movements with a proprietary weight. For a few minutes, they were focused on the screen, but the adrenaline of the gameplay was rapidly being eclipsed by the mounting tension in the room.

During a brief lull while the game loaded the next level, Emma reached into her pocket. She pulled out her phone, the screen’s light illuminating her face in the dim room. It was blank. No notification, no text, no sign of life from Tom.

The disappointment flashed across her features a mix of annoyance and resignation before she quickly tucked the phone away. She let out a sharp, audible exhale, the silence from her partner feeling heavier and more insulting than it had just ten minutes ago.

Ben noticed immediately. He didn't say a word, but the smirk that curled the corner of his mouth was predatory. He didn't return his attention to the game. Instead, he shifted his arm, letting it rest heavy across the back of the couch behind her head, his fingers grazing the back of her neck. He was no longer watching the TV; he was watching her reaction to Tom’s absence, his eyes dark and fixed on her profile.

"Still ghosting you?" Ben asked, his voice barely above a whisper, teasing and deliberate. "Honestly, if I were him, I’d have left that office hours ago just to get back to you. Some guys just don't know what they have until it's gone."
Emma shifted, her movements sluggish, the weight of the evening settling over her. She turned her head, meeting Ben’s gaze directly for the first time that night. The glow of the TV screen flickered across her face, highlighting the flushed, slightly heavy look in her eyes—a look that betrayed exactly how much she had been craving this kind of attention.

It's not quite how you thought things were is it?