Come Sit

David sets his phone face-up beside his plate, the draft post still glowing, and pats his thigh. 'Come sit next to me, Willow.' She rises on unsteady heels, the plug shifting inside her, and crosses to him. He guides her down onto his lap, her bare thigh pressing against his trousers, his hand settling on her waist. 'Now everyone can see who you belong to,' he murmurs, thumb brushing the edge of his phone screen.