You don’t realize how serious it feels until Luke hands you his hoodie without thinking about it.

It happens after one of your late-night study sessions in the library. You’re sitting cross-legged in a corner booth, shivering under the aggressive air conditioning while Luke scrolls through his laptop beside you.

“You’re freezing,” he says.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re literally blue.”

Before you can argue, he pulls his hoodie over his head and drops it into your lap.

The thing is warm. Smells like his detergent.

You stare at it for a second too long.

Luke notices immediately. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

“The one where you start overthinking.”

You roll your eyes, but you put the hoodie on anyway. The sleeves swallow your hands. Luke goes strangely quiet after that, staring at you for a second before clearing his throat and looking back at his screen.

Your relationship has been like that for the past three months. Small moments that suddenly feel too intimate for how new this still is.

Because it is new.

Technically.

You and Luke were friends first. Same friend group, same Friday night takeout runs, same group chats full of stupid videos and arguments over where to eat. Falling into dating him had happened slowly, then all at once.

One day he was your friend tossing popcorn at your head during movie nights.

The next, he was kissing you in the parking lot outside campus after walking you to your car.

And now he’s your boyfriend, which still feels weird to think sometimes.

Not bad weird. Just unreal.