Fray's POV"No, you have to click 'X'! Now! CLICK IT!" I said, my voice a mix of urgency and frustration.
"Fray, this is hard! You're not explaining it right. Lemme just—" Arya's hands shoved mine out of the way with surprising force as she maneuvered herself onto my lap.
My brain short-circuited.
She was warm, so warm, and suddenly there. The scent of her shampoo was close enough to breathe in. My hands hovered in midair as she grabbed the controller and settled into place, her weight pressing against me in ways I wasn't prepared for.
"Okay, help me. When do I click it?" she asked, her tone as focused as if we were defusing a bomb.
I couldn't respond. My throat had locked up. Instead, I wrapped my hands around hers on the controller, forcing my attention back to the screen. I guided her movements, clicking the buttons rapidly and taking down the zombie.
"YESSS!" she shouted, bouncing on my lap in excitement.
And that's when my world tilted.
I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the way she was moving—up and down, up and down—as if completely unaware of the effect she was having. I instinctively held onto her waist to steady her, pulling her down slightly to stop her. It didn't work.
She finally stilled but then started shifting, adjusting herself as if she couldn't find a comfortable position. My body betrayed me, and a low groan escaped before I could stop it.
Her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, utterly oblivious.
"A-Arya," I stammered, my voice cracking. "C-could you, uh, get up real quick?"
Her head turned, and her brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh! Oh my God, I'm sorry!" she said quickly, scrambling off my lap. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just—"
"No, it's not—" I cut myself off, standing abruptly and turning away before she could see the undeniable evidence of what had just happened. "I just need a second."
"Why are you facing that way?" she asked, stepping closer.
Panic rose in my chest. "I—uh—"
Before I could stop her, she reached out and turned me to face her. Her leg brushed mine in the process, and another traitorous sound slipped past my lips.
Her eyes flicked down, and then she froze. "Oh."
I wanted to vanish. "I'll be right back," I muttered, rushing to my room and closing the door with a firm click.
I dropped onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands. "Why does this keep happening?" I muttered to myself. My mind spun with embarrassment as I tried desperately to think of the most unsexy things possible: cold showers, taxes, my ninth-grade math teacher... anything to calm myself down.
Five agonizing minutes passed before I felt composed enough to leave.
When I stepped out, Arya was sitting on the couch, her phone in her hands. She glanced up as I approached, her expression unreadable.
"That was quick," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "You know, with the, uh... situation."
Heat flooded my face. "Oh! No, I didn't—uh—I didn't, you know... do that."
Her eyebrows raised slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Okay. Good to know," she said, her tone teasing but kind.
"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean to—"
