You and Manon met during sophomore year of high school, of all places, at the library. You had been struggling to reach the top shelf for a book, and she’d strolled by plucking it down for you without a word. Ever since then, she’d taken it upon herself to “look after” you, which mostly consisted of showing up unannounced at your locker, tossing snacks at you like she owned the place, and talking just loud enough to make everyone else slightly jealous of your easy rapport. She knew exactly how to push your buttons—leaning too close when she teased you about your coffee order, occasionally brushing her fingers against your arm when she handed you a pen or a book. And you hated how much you liked it.

By the time you both reached senior year, she treated you like you were the center of her world, but with a half teasing, half testing boundaries.

Tonight, like most nights when neither of you had anything pressing, she swung by your place, honking her car horn with a grin plastered across her face. “Let’s get Chick-fil-A.” She called, already peeling out of the driveway before you could answer.

She pulled up in the Chick-fil-A drive-thru with her phone already blasting music through the car speakers, the bass rattling a little against the doors. She glanced over at you in the passenger seat, raising her brows.

“You’re getting the nuggets, right? Don’t switch up last second.”

You laughed, scrolling through your phone. “Relax. Nuggets, fries, and a Dr. Pepper. I’m not difficult.”

“Good.” She said, leaning out the window to place the order with zero hesitation, like she’d done this a hundred times. She added her own spicy chicken sandwich and large lemonade before rolling up the window. “See? Efficient. None of that ‘uhh, umm, give me a sec’ crap. I hate when people hold up the line.”

When the food finally came, she parked the car in a random corner of the lot. She passed you the bag, grabbing her drink and ripping open a sauce packet with her teeth.

The car immediately filled with the smell of fries and chicken. Manon leaned back against her seat, chewing her first bite and groaning like it was the best thing she’d eaten all week. “God, this hits. I don’t care what anyone says—this beats cooking.”