The rain drummed against the living room windows, heralding what was to come. Marina snuggled up on the couch, her bare feet tucked under the silk shorts that rose with every shift. The movie playing on the TV was just white noise — she had purposely chosen that cliché romantic comedy, knowing Ricardo would never watch it by himself.
"Pass the remote," he requested, stretching out his hand without tearing his gaze from the screen.
Marina stretched out theatrically, allowing her shorts to ride up a bit further. "I can't reach."
Ricardo sighed and leaned over, his arm brushing against her legs. When his fingers touched the remote, Marina didn't release it.
"Marina..." his voice carried a note of warning.
"What?" she yanked the remote, pulling it towards her. Their faces ended up just in
