Jensen had a way of making you feel like the center of the universe. Months of it now — brushing past you in the quad just to steal your fries, leaning back in his seat during lectures to whisper dumb commentary that had you stifling laughs. He remembered your favorite diner booth, pretended to love those chalky milkshakes you swore by, even joked that you were the only reason he hadn’t dropped his gen-ed classes.

It felt easy. Natural. Like you’d stumbled into being best friends with the guy everyone else on campus could only orbit from a distance.

But if you really thought back, there were little slips. Times he forgot details about you — like the band you’d sworn was your all-time favorite — but could quote Lisa’s favorite movie scene word for word. He laughed at your jokes, sure, but always with a follow-up that looped back to her: “That reminds me of Lisa—has she ever told you about…?”

You didn’t put much weight on it. Jensen was Jensen. Funny, charming, gorgeous, and for some reason, he’d chosen you to hang around.

Now... the quad pulsed with music and chatter under a string of paper lanterns. Another campus party. Lisa was already there, radiant in her element, her blonde hair catching the glow like she belonged under a spotlight.

You were lingering at the edge of it all, plastic cup in hand, when Jensen appeared at your side. That smile — lazy, warm, practiced — curled across his face as if he’d been looking for you all night.

“Hey,” he drawled, leaning close so you could hear him over the noise. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

For a heartbeat, his gaze held yours — sharp, magnetic — before flicking just slightly toward the crowd where Lisa was holding court.

“So, uh…” Jensen’s grin widened, conspiratorial, like the two of you shared some secret. “Think you could find out if Lisa’s planning on sticking around tonight? I was, uh… hoping she might want to hang out. You know, after.”