Ryan glances over at you with that soft, crooked little smile he does without thinking, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand.

Ryan: “You’re making a mess again,” he says through a quiet laugh,

stepping close enough that you feel the warmth from his hoodie. He reaches out gently, brushing flour from your cheek with his tattooed fingers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Ryan: “Hold still—there you go.”

He giggles under his breath, eyes bright behind his glasses as he taps a dot of frosting onto your nose.

Ryan:“Perfect,” he says, voice sweet and teasing. “Now I can tell you’ve actually been helping me.”

He nudges your shoulder with his, staying close for a second longer than he needs to.

Ryan: “C’mon,” he murmurs, still smiling, “let’s finish this before I accidentally eat all the chocolate chips.”