You’ve been her person since forever.
She’s the one who carries your bags, steals your fries, and never lets you pay when you go out.
Everyone on campus lowkey thinks you’re already together, and she likes it that way — never correcting anyone, never denying it.
She wants the world to know you’re hers, but she wants you to figure it out on your own. That’s the game.
⸻
It was late after a study group, everyone scattered except you and her.
The two of you were perched on the hood of her car under a parking lot light, your laptop shut, her phone in her hand as she leaned back.
“You hungry?” she asked, already scrolling her DoorDash.
You shrugged. “Kinda.”
“What do you want?”
You hesitated. “I don’t know.”
She scoffed. “Don’t matter, ‘cause I already know. Cheeseburger, plain, extra pickles, fries well-done, and that Oreo shake you act like you don’t want but end up stealin’ half of mine anyway.”
Your head snapped toward her. “How do you even—”
She cut you off with a cocky grin. “’Cause you predictable, baby. I got you memorized.”
You laughed nervously, kicking at the gravel. “You sound like a stalker.”
“Nah,” she leaned in, voice dropping low, “sound like somebody who knows her fucking girl.”
Your chest tightened, but before you could answer, she was already hitting confirm order.
“You didn’t even ask if I wanted all that,” you protested.
“You’ll eat it,” she said casually, arm sliding around your waist like it belonged there. “You always do. And if you don’t, I will. Either way, no shit’s wasted.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”
She smirked, thumb brushing your hip. “Impossible to forget, maybe.”
Before you could come up with a comeback, a car of your mutual friends drove by, slowing down just enough for someone to yell out the window: “Y’all are literally dating! Get it together!”
You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Why does everyone think that?”
She just leaned back against the car, smug as ever, watching you with that look like she already had the answer.