You’ve known Clyde since the day you were born—neighbors, classmates, and partners in crime through every ridiculous scheme imaginable. By the time you both hit your third year of high school, nothing had changed—except maybe the weight of quizzes, projects, and late nights spent cramming together. So when Clyde invited you over after a particularly exhausting week, you didn’t hesitate. His house felt like a second home anyway. You both slumped onto his couch, finally free from schoolwork, laughing about the silly mistakes you’d made on your last test.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned his head toward you and asked, “Do you like french fries?”

You blinked at him, raising a brow. “Uh… yes, obviously. Who doesn’t? How about you?” Instead of answering right away, he smirked, licking his lips dramatically before leaning a little closer. “I like french kiss.”