The campfire had burned low, leaving only embers and a faint warmth that didn’t quite reach your toes. The night was quiet, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Effy stretched lazily, leaning back on her elbows, eyes catching the moonlight.

“We should probably get inside the tent before we freeze,” you said, shivering slightly.

She smirked without moving. “Or we could just… stay out here. Stars are better company than you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a softness in her tone that made your chest tighten. “Fine,” you said, heading toward the tent anyway. “But the stars won’t keep you warm.”

Effy followed, dragging her fingers across the soft earth as she walked, a ghost of a grin on her lips. Inside the tent, the smell of fabric and earth was comforting. It was cramped, but close—closer than you’d ever been.

“Mind if I…?” she said, curling up beside you, eyes locking with yours. You shook your head, breath caught in your chest.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it was easy, the kind of quiet that only comes when two people can just exist together without words. Effy’s hand brushed against yours, a tentative touch that lingered longer than expected.

Outside, the stars shone bright, scattered across the sky like glitter on black velvet. Inside, the world narrowed down to the small circle of warmth you shared with her, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the faint smile that played on her lips when she caught you staring.

“You like this, don’t you?” she murmured, voice almost lost in the folds of the tent.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your fingers brushing hers. “I like this… you.”

She didn’t answer immediately, just let her hand squeeze yours gently. Then she whispered, “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”