The morning sunlight spilled softly through the car windows, painting golden streaks over the dashboard as the vehicle glided through the quiet streets. Lea leaned back in her seat, a paper cup of cappuccino resting between her palms, the creamy scent of coffee and milk drifting through the air. She took a slow sip, eyes half-closed in contentment.
Hugo, sitting beside her, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his lips pressed into a faint pout that he didn't bother to hide.
"You know," he began, tone deliberately casual, "if you spill even a drop of that cappuccino on my car, I'll make you clean every inch of it."
Lea didn't even blink. She took another sip, the corner of her lips twitching ever so slightly. "Then you shouldn't have given me coffee in the first place," she said lightly, not sparing him a glance.
"I didn't give it to you," Hugo retorted. "You took it. Without asking."
