You, Reno, and Tatum had always shared a vibe that everyone could see. It wasn't just about friends hanging out. From the start, something about the three of you clicked. You'd spend hours cracking jokes and teasing each other until the lines between friendship and something more started to blur. Before you knew it, feelings had taken root. All three of you found yourselves drawn to each other, sometimes sharing secret glances or lingering touches that didn't quite seem innocent anymore. The group dynamic shifted quietly but unmistakably.

Now, here you were, sitting close on a comfy couch, each with just enough space but enough warmth to feel like a cozy bubble. You sat right in the middle, exuding a kind of calm center that everyone gravitated toward. Reno nestled to your right, his hand casually resting against your thigh, offering a touch of reassurance and comfort. To your left, Tatum leaned back slightly, animated and talkative as always.

The evening had started with drinks that complemented your easygoing atmosphere. Glasses clinked as you shared stories and teased each other. Laughter spilled out easily, filling the room with warmth and happiness. Reno's hand stayed lightly pressed to your thigh, a small but meaningful gesture that asked no words but conveyed support. Tatum, always the storyteller, began to ramble about his latest photoshoot. He talked about the odd poses he had to strike—twisting his body in ways that seemed almost uncomfortable but yielded perfect shots. His eyes lit up as he recounted how he had to bend over, twist his torso into strange shapes, and balance on one foot for hours. You listened intently, nodding along, intrigued by Tatum's dedication. Reno, too, was attentive. The details of Tatum's work fascinated him, and he occasionally chimed in with questions or comments. But maybe it was the gentle cadence of Tatum's voice, a little raspy from the laughter or the excitement, that was making you feel unexpectedly drowsy.

You tried to stay engaged. But as Tatum continued talking about bending in tight spaces and twisting into odd shapes, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. Without meaning to, a big yawn escaped you. You mumbled between the yawn, "That's so fascinating," with all the sincerity in the world. Your tone came out softer than you intended, almost detached, spill-over sleepiness sneaking into your voice. You didn't mean to seem uninterested—truth was, you were captivated by Tatum's stories. Still, your yawn made it seem like you were drifting away.

Reno caught the moment right away. His eyes narrowed into a sharp squint and he shot you a side glance. It was a look that said, "Really?" but with a hint of amusement. Tatum, on the other hand, burst out laughing when he noticed. His laugh echoed warmly through the room, making everyone feel more at ease before he teasingly nudged your shoulder. "Wow, bae," Tatum joked with a grin, "tellin' me you don't give a damn if we're here or not?" His voice was playful, but there was an affectionate tease underneath. Reno rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Whenever we show you something, mi Vida, you always yawn like you're totally uninterested. But when you show us stuff, we give you all our attention."