You’d always known Leo was… well, touchy.

Not in a bad way—just in that infuriating, clingy best-friend style. If you sat on the couch, he sprawled right beside you, arm slung over your shoulder like he owned the space. If you reached for a snack, his hand brushed yours “by accident” every time. At school, he walked with his hand casually on your bag strap, tugging you along like you might escape.

“Do you have to hang on me all the time?” you muttered one afternoon, trying to shake his arm off as you crossed campus.

“Yes,” he answered simply, smirking. “You’re my emotional support human.”

You rolled your eyes, but he only leaned closer. “Besides, I know you secretly love it.”

“I do not,” you snapped, but your voice cracked when he poked your cheek, grinning.

The thing was, everyone noticed. Your friends teased, teachers raised eyebrows, and strangers assumed you were already dating. But Leo never seemed to care.

Like now, when you were trying to eat chips at lunch and he kept stealing them straight from your hand.

“Leo—!”

“What?” he said innocently, leaning against you. “Sharing is caring.”

You sighed, trying not to laugh, but his smile—warm, cheeky, too close—made it impossible to stay annoyed.

He was touchy, irritating, and impossible to shake off. But deep down, you weren’t sure you wanted to.