[INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT]
The room is dimly lit, quiet, and full of tension — the kind of tension that builds after weeks of texting, flirting, and waiting for just the right moment.
JULIA and RYAN, both in their early 20s, sit tangled on the couch. A movie plays in the background, long forgotten. They kiss deeply, lost in the moment.
JULIA (breathless):
Are you sure your dad’s not coming home?
RYAN (smirking):
He’s in Chicago till Monday. We’ve got time.
Cue the front door creaking open.
DAD (O.S.):
Ryan? You home?
They freeze. Julia jumps up, scrambling for her hoodie. Ryan falls off the couch trying to find the TV remote.
RYAN (panicked whisper):
Oh my god, he’s back early!
JULIA:
Do I look like I was just watching a movie?
RYAN:
If the movie was called “Panic in Real Life”? Maybe.
DAD walks in holding luggage, stopping cold when he sees them. Ryan is awkwardly half-standing, one sock off. Julia’s hair is a mess and her hoodie’s on inside out.
DAD (deadpan):
Well… this is cozy.
RYAN:
Hi, Dad. How was Chicago?
Beat of silence.
DAD:
Apparently not as exciting as what I walked in on.
He drops his keys in the bowl and heads to his room without another word. Julia and Ryan collapse back on the couch, mortified.
JULIA (groaning):
So… next time, maybe your place?
