The mall was packed, the usual Saturday chaos buzzing all around—kids running with ice cream cones, music blasting from stores, and the scent of cinnamon pretzels hanging in the air. Jake, 17, walked beside his girlfriend Suri, who was 16 and turning heads left and right.

She wore black leggings that fit perfectly, paired with a tight black crop top that showed just a little bit of skin and made Jake glance her way about every five seconds, even though he tried to play it cool.

“You’re staring again,” Suri teased, smirking as she looked over her shoulder.

Jake laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Can you blame me? You’re literally glowing.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “It’s the Sephora highlighter. Calm down.”

They strolled through the shops, stopping by Nike so Jake could check out sneakers while Suri wandered toward the hoodies. Then it was her turn—Forever 21. Jake stood patiently outside the fitting room as Suri tried on three different outfits and kept calling him over to “honestly rate this one.”

“Okay, this is the last one,” she said, stepping out in a gray skirt and oversized sweater combo.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she laughed.

“Like, don’t-wear-that-around-other-guys dangerous,” he said, grinning.

Suri laughed and grabbed his hand. “You’re lucky I only want to look good for you.”

They finished the trip with iced coffees and sat on a bench near the fountain, bags around their feet. Jake leaned back, watching Suri sip her drink, still smiling like he couldn’t believe she was his.

“Today was fun,” she said softly.