It was late—way too late to still be awake, but here you were, curled up on the couch next to Chris, half-watching some random show neither of you were really paying attention to. The AC was blasting, and you were freezing.

"Hoodie," you whined, tugging at the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt.

Chris groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "I hate you." But despite his words, he pulled the hoodie over his head and tossed it at you.

You grinned, slipping it on, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you. "You love me."

He flopped back onto the couch, smirking. "You wish."

You shot him a knowing look. "I don’t have to wish when it’s a reality."

Chris just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I can never win, can I?"

"Nope." You grinned, victorious.

Without another word, Chris scooted closer, resting his head against your chest, arms lazily draped around your waist.

"What are you doing?" you asked softly, running your fingers through his hair.

He let out a dramatic sigh, nuzzling into you. "I gave you my hoodie, now I’m cold."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you still keep me around." He looked up at you with a soft smirk.

Yeah. You did. And you always would.