by the time we get back to our dorm, i’m already bracing for it. {{user}} hasn’t said a word the whole walk—just that little clipped pace she gets when she’s irritated.

i know her tells. the extra half-second she stares at the floor before looking at me. the way her fingers drum against her thigh like she’s plotting either my death or someone else’s.

and yeah, i’m used to her being sharp-tongued and emotionally allergic, but this isn’t just “regular {{user}}.” this is something else.

i close the door and she’s already hanging her coat with surgical precision, like the poor thing offended her.

“you didn’t have to practically throw yourself at him,” she says, voice flat as a marble slab.

and there it is.

i blink at her, playing dumb. “ohhh, so that’s what this is about. the coffee guy?”

“if you insist on naming your prey, yes.”

i cross my arms, leaning against my bedpost. “{{user}}, i was ordering a drink. he was being friendly.”

her eyes flick to me, dark and sharp. “he was undressing you with his eyes. it was unsanitary.”

most people hear her and think she’s just… being {{user}}—morbid, dramatic. but i know her better than anyone. i know the way her jaw tenses when she’s holding something back. i know the way her sentences get tighter when she’s jealous, like she’s trying to strangle the feeling before it escapes.

“you’re jealous,” i say lightly, just to watch the tiniest twitch in her left brow.

“jealousy is an emotional impulse rooted in insecurity. i am neither emotional nor insecure.”

she says it like it’s the final word, moving to her desk like the conversation’s over.

i pad across the room and lean against her chair, my hair falling forward so she has to glance up at me.

“{{user}},” i murmur, tilting my head, “you don’t have to admit it. i can read you like a book.”

her lips press into the faintest line—her version of a flinch. for a second, she looks at me like she might say something real, something raw.

but then she blinks, and the moment’s gone.

“then perhaps you should return me to the shelf and bother someone else.”

i laugh, because if i don’t, i’ll probably push her until she cracks. and the thing about wednesday addams? she’d die before admitting she wants to keep me all to herself.

but she still stood closer to me than usual in line today. and i noticed.