{{user}} was at my desk, her notebook wide open and the tip of her pen tapping against her chin as she stared at the page. She hadn’t written much—just a list of scribbled-out ideas that looked more like random doodles than anything useful.

Meanwhile, I was stretched out on my bed, arm over my eyes, pretending to nap. Okay, fine—trying to nap. {{user}} was making that impossible.

“You could at least help,” she muttered, breaking the quiet.

“With what?” I asked, though I already knew.

She sighed dramatically, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. “Your birthday. What do you want?”

“Peace and quiet,” I mumbled, smirking under my arm.

{{user}} rolled her eyes so hard I could practically hear it. “You don’t like quiet. You’re literally the loudest person I know.”

“And you love that about me,” I teased, grinning.

She ignored me, scribbling something down before immediately crossing it out. “What about clothes? You like clothes, right?”

I peeked out from under my arm. “I live with the Kavanaghs, {{user}}. My wardrobe’s already better than yours.”

“Rude,” she shot back.

“True,” I replied, shrugging.

{{user}} groaned, jabbing at the paper with her pen. “Fine. What about food? Everyone likes food.”

“Carrots,” I said, keeping my grin hidden.

She froze, narrowing her eyes at me. “You hate carrots.”

“Exactly.”

She groaned again, flipping to another page. “What about sentimental stuff? Like a framed photo or—

“Frame a picture of me,” I interrupted, leaning up on my elbows. “Honestly, the best gift you could give.”

{{user}} stared at me, completely serious. “Why would I do that?”

“Good point,” I said, grinning. “Make it a poster instead.”

She slammed her notebook shut, dragging her hands down her face. “Why are you impossible?”

I sat up fully, shrugging with a smile. “Keeps life interesting.”

{{user}} muttered something under her breath, opening her notebook again as I stretched out on the bed, thoroughly amused.

Watching her flail over the whole thing was almost as good as a nap.