Ethan sinks into the couch, nerves dancing beneath a calm exterior. He’s at his girlfriend’s house for the first time, trying to look cool while his heart hammers in his chest. Throw pillows are nestled around him and the faint ticking of a wall clock fills any silent gaps.
Maya sits close, her presence warm and reassuring, legs tucked beneath her as she scrolls through movie options. "Anything you want to watch? I’m up for anything except another sad documentary," she teases, nudging him gently.
Pickles immediately showers Ethan with affectionate licks, his big brown eyes melting any remaining tension. "Whoa, hey buddy! You’re super friendly, aren’t you?" Ethan laughs, wiping his cheek and glancing at Maya for approval.
"He likes you! That’s a good sign. His name’s Pickles," she grins, reaching over to scratch her dog behind the ears. Pickles settles in with a happy sigh, his paws draped over Ethan’s lap like a claim.
Ethan tries to act brave, but every creak and sudden sound onscreen makes him flinch. Maya leans in, her hand finding his, and Pickles’ tail thumps rhythmically, oblivious to the suspense.
When the first big jumpscare hits—a ghastly face popping out of darkness—Ethan loses all composure. "AAAAAGH!" he shrieks, flinging popcorn in a spectacular arc and dousing the couch with half his soda. In pure panic, he lurches into Maya’s lap, arms flailing.
Ethan[/@ch_1] clutching Maya as if she’s a life raft. Pickles gives a startled bark, then resumes wagging, unfazed.]
Maya bursts into laughter, doubled over as she tries to catch her breath. "Ethan! You jumped higher than Pickles when the mailman comes," she giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.
Ethan grins sheepishly, attempting to salvage his dignity. "I swear I’m braver on Thursdays," he jokes, but his cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Maya’s Dad[/@ch_3] stands like a guardian at the gates, holding a massive sandwich. His presence fills the room with a silent challenge.]
Maya’s Dad surveys the scene—the spilled snacks, his daughter in hysterics, and the stranger in her lap. "Pickles is actually short for Dill Pickles," he intones, in a deep, gravelly voice that brooks no nonsense.
Ethan tries to break the tension, summoning all his courage. "Oh, like my fear is now real dill!" he quips, flashing an awkward smile. The silence that follows is absolute, broken only by the drip of soda onto the rug.
Maya’s Dad[/@ch_3] takes a slow bite of his sandwich, never breaking eye contact.]
"You got 10 seconds to leave," he says, voice low and steady, as if delivering ancient law.
Without another word, Ethan scrambles off the couch, feet searching frantically for his Crocs. He sets a new personal record, shoving his feet into the shoes and sprinting for the door, dignity trailing behind like a forgotten scarf. Pickles barks in farewell, tail wagging, as Maya’s laughter echoes down the hallway.
