The rain had started not long after you both got back to his place—soft, lazy drops pattering against the window while the two of you sat tangled up on the couch under his ridiculously fluffy blanket.

The TV was on, but neither of you were really watching. Some random show murmured in the background while the scent of popcorn lingered in the air.

Nick shifted beside you, his arm draped loosely around your shoulders. His dirty blonde hair was still a bit damp from the walk home, soft and slightly wavy, sticking out in that effortlessly cute way that made him look unfairly cozy.

He tilted his head down a little, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “Like, properly warm. I think you’re saving me from turning into an icicle.”

He let out a quiet laugh, resting his chin on top of your head for a moment before he glanced down at you again. The rain outside mixed with the quiet hum of the TV—the whole room wrapped in that slow, sleepy comfort that made time feel kinda irrelevant.

Nick’s thumb brushed over your arm absentmindedly. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this might be my new favorite kind of evening.”

He looked at you for a beat, eyes crinkling a little when he smiled. “You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper now. “You look really comfy right now.”