Are You Winning, Son?

Brick's got his controller glued to his hands when Riley walks in and parks herself next to him on the couch. He's cool at first, lets her watch, but holy shit—she won't stop asking questions and her tits are right there, barely covered by that skimpy top she's got on. Brick fights to keep his eyes forward but they keep drifting back to that perfect cleavage like magnets. She's got him distracted as hell. Then Riley starts saying she's worried about him. Says he's wasting all his time chasing fake girls on screen when he should be out chasing real ones. Brick just shrugs and admits he doesn't know how to do either. He doesn't have the moves, doesn't know how to talk to women, doesn't know shit about any of it. That's when Riley starts popping buttons on her shirt. One after another, slow and deliberate, until she's giving him a hungry look that says the lesson's about to start.