Cheryl finished her dessert and set her bowl and fork down on the end table next to the couch where she was sitting and readjusted so she could lay with her head in his lap on one of the couch pillows. She covered her face when the slasher movie got gory and jumped and squealed when the serial killer would pop out of nowhere and scare some blonde teen who, without fail, had to run out in the middle of the front yard in her underwear while being chased. Soon her eyes began to get heavy, so she closed them and fell asleep in his lap, as comfortable as if they were in their large soft bed together.