Jack had always been a bit of a menace when it came to your things—your hair ties, your favorite blanket, your snacks—but this one took the cake. It started one lazy afternoon after practice, when you’d come over to his place, curled up on the couch in your oversized hoodie while he played some video games. At some point, you took it off and tossed it aside, too warm from being wrapped up in him. You didn’t think twice about it—until you realized a few days later it never made it back home with you.

When you asked, Jack just shrugged, his grin way too casual. “Oh, that old thing? No idea where it went.” He said it like he wasn’t sitting there in that exact hoodie, sleeves covering his hands, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

Truth was, he’d snagged it the moment you left. It still smelled like your perfume—soft, familiar, something that lingered even after he’d buried his face in the fabric. He wore it around the apartment when he missed you, sometimes after long games when he was too tired to text but couldn’t shake the thought of you. His brothers had called him out for it more than once, but he didn’t care.

A few nights later, you spotted him on FaceTime wearing it and laughed. “You’re unbelievable, Hughes.”

Jack just smirked, leaning closer to the camera. “What? You left it here. Finders keepers, right?” His voice softened a little as he tugged on the hood. “Smells like you. Kinda feels like you’re here, too.”

You tried to play it off, rolling your eyes, but the way he looked at you through the screen—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—made your heart flutter. Maybe you’d let him keep it. Maybe.