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“Good.”

We’re quiet while the movie plays the opening scene. He silently picks up his phone and starts scrolling.

“Very rude,” I scoff.

He places his phone face down on his chest and pats the top of my head.

“Did you take ibuprofen?” I ask, looking down at the icepack on his ankle.

He shakes his head, so I pat him back.

“Let me get that for you.” I walk to the kitchen, grab a bag of popcorn to pop in the microwave, then grab a couple of ibuprofen and pour a glass of water.

I walk over to Dylan and hand it to him just as the two minutes are up. I grab the blazing hot bag of fresh popcorn and plop next to him on the couch.

I offer him some, so he grabs a few pieces and asks, “Are you okay?”

“What?” I ask, stuffing my face.

“You never ignore your phone. You skipped a workout today. Your full attention is on this random movie, so what’s up, girl?” He plops a few more pieces into his mouth. “Talk to me.”

“PMS,” I admit.

He turns his head to me and says, “Are you horny?”

I roll my eyes and then raise a brow at him. “Seriously?”

“I don’t care if you’re on your period, Ce. I would still take care of you.”

I almost laugh. “That’s so kind of you, Dylan, but no, I just need practice.”

He shrugs, throwing popcorn in his mouth. “I hear practice makes perfect.”

“Don’t be a douchebag,” I scoff.

He glares at me. “That’s not a douchebag thing to say. It’s true.”

“Yeah, but you’re only saying that because you get something out of it.”

He shakes his head. “I thought you knew me.”

I chuckle to myself, shoving my hand in the popcorn faster than he can.

After a few quiet minutes of watching the movie, he says, “So, how often do you want to practice?”

“Are you trying to coordinate our schedules?” I tease.

“Maybe.” He readjusts his ankle. “Maybe I want to know what to expect because when you told me to come over today, I wasn’t expecting…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence.

I take a moment to think and shrug. “I don’t know.”

He continues to snack, his attention fixed on the movie. I sink into the couch and stretch my legs, placing my feet in his lap for a moment.

He starts rubbing my feet, still focused on the movie. His hands feel good, relieving tension I didn’t know I had.

“That feels really nice,” I mutter. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, and I close my eyes. “Are you going to sleep?”