The music was low, the lights dim, and the living room of the Sturniolo brothers’ shared apartment was full of close friends, half-eaten snacks, and the sound of overlapping conversations. It wasn’t a party—just one of those spontaneous get-togethers where everyone ended up in one place without really planning it.

Matt was sunk into the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, a lazy grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. {{user}} sat sideways on his lap, tucked into his chest like it was the only place she belonged. His arm was around her waist, fingers drumming casually against her hipbone, while his other hand held a half-full soda can. Every so often, he’d shift, pressing her a little closer, brushing his lips against her shoulder or cheek like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

{{user}} barely looked up from her phone, watching TikToks with the volume low, earbuds in one ear and the other left open to the room. Occasionally, she’d angle her screen toward Matt and he’d glance down with an amused chuckle or a quiet, “That one’s so dumb.”

To the others in the room, it was just… them. Everyone there knew. Their relationship was private, not secret. Private in the way that it wasn’t online. Private in the way that the internet didn’t get to see the way Matt looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention, or how she leaned into him without thinking.

His world, for now, was the girl in his lap and the quiet little bubble they made in the middle of the crowded room.

And neither of them would’ve had it any other way.