Ignored

Scott steps behind her, his cologne sharp, words slurred just enough to signal his intentions.

"You’ve been stealing the night, you know that?" he murmurs, fingers brushing the edge of her hip.

Sharon doesn’t turn. She exhales slowly and dips her hand back into the soapy water, eyes locked on the bubbles.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” she says, calm but cool. “Go find a glass of water.”

He waits. Lingers. A beat, maybe two. But when she doesn’t look at him, when her tone doesn’t soften, he backs off with a dry chuckle and mutters something under his breath as he drifts back to the living room.

She doesn’t glance back. But her pulse ticks faster in her neck, and the heat of his presence lingers far longer than his footsteps.