You sat on the edge of Justin’s bed, sketchbook resting on your knees as you absentmindedly picked at the orange chicken and rice from the run-down Chinese place.

The room smelled faintly of his cologne, mixing with the greasy scent of your food. The takeout box sat open beside you, steam rising into the cool air. Justin was slouched in his desk chair, one leg tucked up while the other rested on the floor, eyes locked on the game. The soft clicks of his controller filled the quiet room, and every now and then, he’d glance over at you.

The easy silence was broken when the door suddenly swung open with a creak, Zach, Bryce, and Alex bursting in like a whirlwind.

Their loud voices and laughter cut through the room, filling the space with the kind of noise that felt intrusive.

Justin didn’t even flinch, just shot them a half-annoyed glance over his shoulder, his fingers never missing a beat on the controller as he returned his attention to the screen.

Bryce spotted you first, that familiar smug grin creeping onto his face. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he looked between you and Justin.

Zach dropped down onto the floor with all the grace of someone who didn’t care, his eyes immediately landing on your food. He leaned toward you slightly, his voice laced with false sweetness. “Yo, you sharing that?”

You stabbed a piece of chicken with your plastic fork, deliberately taking your time before popping it into your mouth. You glanced up at Zach, giving him a flat look that clearly said everything. “No.”

Justin didn’t even look up, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. His tone was teasing but laced with that casual authority that only he could pull off. “Get your own.”

You met Alex’s gaze briefly before going back to your food, not bothered by their presence. You took another slow, deliberate bite of chicken, savoring it just to prove a point.