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[2011]
Quinn and Patrick were sitting quietly on her cream-colored couch, immersed in the soft glow of the television. Quinn was sprawled out comfortably, her legs draped across Patrick's lap. The guy, sitting upright, gently ran his fingers along the smooth skin of her thighs.
Quinn's curly hair cascaded over the armrest, and she absentmindedly twirled a strand around her finger. The room was filled with a peaceful silence.
It had been five long years since they had last seen Art and Tashi. The memories of their final meeting had gradually faded, replaced by the routine and comfort they found in each other's company. Quinn and Patrick were inseparable.
They made a silent pact to leave the past behind, avoiding conversations about Art and Tashi. It was easier that way, not to dredge up old memories that could stir emotions they preferred to keep buried.
Quinn started to giggle involuntarily, her laughter breaking the calm silence of the room. Patrick shifted his gaze from the tv to her, a curious look crossing his face as he raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You're tickling me," she murmured, her voice soft and playful, referring to the gentle caresses he was tracing on her thighs.
A mischievous smirk spread across Patrick's face. "Oh, really?" he said in a playful tone. He moved from his relaxed position, shifting to hover over her.
Propping himself up on one elbow beside her head, his eyes sparkled. With his free hand, he began to tickle her stomach. Quinn's laughter erupted, filling the room as she squirmed beneath him. Her curly hair fanned out on the couch, shaking with her movements.
"No! Stop it!" she exclaimed between bursts of laughter. She tried to wriggle free, but Patrick held her firmly in place with one hand on her hip, his own laughter mingling with hers.
Patrick's eyes softened as he looked down at her. "You're so pretty," he whispered at one point, his voice barely audible over their shared laughter, stopping his playful assault. Quinn, who had kept her eyes closed until that moment, slowly opened them, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.
Patrick moved his hand from her hip to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her soft skin in a tender gesture. The warmth of his touch was comforting, his fingers brushing away a stray curl from her face. Quinn's breath hitched slightly at the intimacy of the moment, her eyes locked onto his.
The hum of the television became a distant murmur. In that moment, nothing else mattered.
It wasn't the first time they had shared such an intimate moment; in fact, they had experienced even more intimate times together. Yet for Quinn, it always felt like the first time. That was the effect Patrick had on her.
