We both reached for the same branch for balance at the exact same time. For one stupid second, our fingers brushed. Just a split-second touch—bare skin against bare skin. And just like that, it wasn’t just a hike anymore.

I pulled my hand away first, shaking it off with a dramatic shudder. "Jesus. I think I just touched something cursed."

The look they shot me was practically poisonous.

I grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll probably survive. But if I don’t? Please make my tragic story sound way cooler than it actually was.”

Still no words from them. Just an eye roll. The patented Ex Look.

We fell into an easy rhythm, or as easy as it could be with the constant undercurrent of "remember that time I totally owned you?" vibes.

The further we hiked, the more the trail tested us. Steeper inclines. More uneven terrain. The perfect conditions for our long-standing tradition of competitive shit-talking.

"Wow," I sighed dramatically as I watched them scramble over a particularly large rock, "still taking twice as long as me to get over simple obstacles. Some things never change."

Still, they didn’t speak. But the sharp look they threw me said everything.

I smirked. "Oh, are we doing the whole mysterious and brooding thing again? Classic. Love the commitment."

Silence. Fine. Two could play that game.

We hiked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the crunch of our boots against the dirt, the occasional rustling of leaves. I waited until I could see them just slightly struggling to get footing on a loose patch of gravel. The moment I saw their foot slip ever so slightly, I couldn’t resist.

"Hey, remember that time you tripped over your own feet during that camping trip?" I said, my tone casual, like I hadn’t been waiting to bring this up.