Theodore was easy to love. It was in the way he threw his arm over your shoulder like you belonged there, in the way he made you laugh until you forgot why you were even upset. It was in his smirk, the way he flicked his lighter open and shut absentmindedly, the way his hair always fell into his eyes no matter how many times he pushed it back.

Right now, he was sitting across from you at the café, stirring his coffee, eyes gleaming with amusement as he recounted some ridiculous story about Mattheo. As always, Mattheo this, Mattheo that. Theodore adored his best friend, and you adored Theodore—so you swallowed the bitter taste of being second best.

"You should’ve seen his face," Theo grinned.

You laughed because that’s what you were supposed to do.

Then, as if on cue, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette. You sighed before you could stop yourself.

His eyes flickered to yours. "What?"

"You don’t have to light that right now."

He scoffed. "Oh, come on. You knew what you were getting into." But he hesitated, rolling the cigarette between his fingers instead of lighting it. A small win.

And then, of course, she walked by.

One of them. The girls who always tried and failed to get Theodore’s attention. She tossed her hair as she passed, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

You felt it, the tiny pang of insecurity, but you knew better. Theodore had this effortless magnetism, but he never took the bait. He gave her a single, disinterested glance before turning back to you, exhaling through his nose like he was bored.

"They never learn," he murmured.

And just like that, your heart softened again. He was frustrating, impossible even, but he was yours—at least, when Mattheo wasn’t around.

You took his cigarette from his fingers and twirled it between your own. "One day," you mused, "you’re gonna have to quit."

He grinned. "One day, you’re gonna stop trying to change me."

Falling in love with Theodore was the easiest thing in the world. Loving him, though? That was another story.