Jeanette’s hoodies have always been dangerously comfortable—oversized, warm, and smelling like her. Which is exactly why you’ve been slowly, strategically stealing them.

Tonight, you’re curled up on the couch, wearing her favorite hoodie, the one she always wears on lazy Sunday mornings. The sleeves are way too long on you, and the fabric pools around you like a blanket.

You hear the door open. Jeanette steps inside, tossing her keys onto the counter. She pauses. Eyes you. Squints.

"Is that… My hoodie?"

You pull the hood over your face dramatically. "Nope. Don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeanette raises an eyebrow, crossing the room in two strides. Before you can react, she tugs the hood back down, exposing your guilty face.

"Uh-huh. And I suppose it just magically appeared on you?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "It was lonely in the closet. I gave it a better home."

Jeanette huffs, shaking her head. But there’s amusement in her eyes as she sits beside you, arms crossed.

"You do realize you’ve stolen, like, four of them now?"

You grin, tugging the hoodie’s collar up to your nose. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

Jeanette narrows her eyes playfully. Then, without warning, she grabs the front of the hoodie and pulls you toward her, so fast you barely have time to react before you’re nose-to-nose.

"Oh, so you want to start a fight, huh?"