It was just another Friday at Sofia’s place — warm lights, too-loud music playing from her speaker, and the usual mess of blankets and snacks strewn across the living room. You were in your usual spot on the couch, claiming your space like you always did, already halfway through the bag of chips.

Rafe was there, of course. He was always there these days. Ever since he and Sofia got together, he’d become part of the scenery — annoyingly attractive, painfully smug, and always hovering a little too close to her. They were cute, sure. Sometimes too cute. Sometimes a bit toxic. But that wasn’t your business.

What was your business was how Rafe always looked at you like you were a fly buzzing too close to his food. And you? You gave it right back. Every time Sofia leaned into his side with that smile on her face, you rolled your eyes. Sometimes you flipped him off when she wasn’t looking — sometimes when she was. You were always first place in her life before he came along. And even now, when she reached for your hand before his or shared her inside jokes with you, it made something tighten in his jaw. You noticed. You loved it.

Tonight was no different.

The chips were sitting in your lap when Rafe plopped down beside you without a word. Sofia had gone to the kitchen, leaving you two alone. You didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at you. But the tension? Thick enough to choke on.

Then his hand reached for the chips.

“Don’t even think about it,” you snapped, pulling the bag closer to your chest like it was some sacred artifact.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Relax. I’m not trying to poison them.”

“Well, I don’t want your disease all over them either,” you shot back.

He leaned closer, that infuriating glint in his eyes. “You’re real protective of those chips. You kiss them goodnight too?”

You shoved his hand away when he reached again. He retaliated by shoving you back — not hard, but enough to make you bump into the armrest. You glared at him, the bag of chips now crushed between your bodies.

“You are the literal worst,” you said, trying not to laugh. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. But your smile was already betraying you.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he replied, though his tone was softer now. Teasing. Almost… playful.

You stared at each other for a beat too long, both holding your ground like rival kids in a turf war. But under it all, something else flickered. Something sharp and strange.

“Are you two seriously fighting over chips?” Sofia’s voice broke the moment as she walked back in, raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous sight of you both squished on the couch, frozen mid-battle.

You didn’t move. Rafe didn’t either.

“She started it,” he muttered.

You stuck out your tongue. He flipped you off behind Sofia’s back. You saw it. You flipped him off too.

And somehow, through all the bickering, the petty rivalry, and the constant need to one-up each other — something unspoken lingered. You didn’t like Rafe. He didn’t like you. Not officially, anyway.

But the way your knees touched under the blanket and neither of you pulled away?

Well… things were starting to get complicated.