It was supposed to be a quick stop at the campus café before heading to your next class. Gojo had insisted on paying—mostly so he could hold the receipt up like it was a trophy—claiming it was “proof he was a generous and selfless friend.” You were still trying to balance your iced latte in one hand and the paper bag of cookies in the other when he bumped his shoulder into yours, grinning like he’d just pulled off the greatest joke of the century.

“You know you’re only funny because I’m around to set you up, right?” he said, reaching into your bag without asking and stealing a cookie.

“And you’re only charming because I let you be,” you shot back, swatting at his arm. He dodged easily, stepping just close enough that your elbows brushed as you walked. It wasn’t unusual for him to crowd your space, but lately it felt harder to pretend you didn’t notice.

He bit into the cookie, then handed you the other half without looking at you, like it was just another casual habit in a long list of habits you’d both picked up over the years. “We’d kill it as a comedy duo,” he said, talking with his mouth half full. “You’d be the grumpy straight man, I’d be the lovable genius. Instant fame.”

“Lovable’s a stretch.”

He tilted his head toward you, sunglasses sliding a little down his nose. “You think I’m lovable.” It wasn’t a question, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your pulse trip in that annoying way it always did when he decided to push.

You rolled your eyes, but it was impossible not to smile. “Sure. In the same way a cat that knocks things off shelves is lovable.”

He laughed, the sound bright enough to draw a glance from someone passing by. “So you’re saying I keep you on your toes. I’ll take it.” His fingers brushed yours when you switched the coffee to your other hand, an accidental touch that lingered a beat too long before he shoved both hands into his pockets.

By the time you reached the building for your next class, he was still talking—some ridiculous plan about you both skipping finals to start a podcast—but you weren’t really listening. You were too aware of the warm half-cookie in your palm and the faint buzz in your chest that never seemed to go away when you were with him.

And maybe that was fine. For now.