The laptop balanced on my knees, its glow illuminating the dim living room. Atlas, your spoiled little cat, perched on my shoulder like she owned the place, her purring vibrating against my neck. She shifted, rubbing her head against my cheek. I sighed but didn’t move her. It wasn’t like I could get her to leave if I tried.

From the dining table, you glanced up from your laptop, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “She’s obsessed with you, you know.”

I didn’t bother looking at you. “She doesn’t have great taste.” My hand moved up almost on instinct, scratching behind her ear.

“She’s picky,” you countered, leaning back in your chair. “She doesn’t just like anyone.”

I scoffed, finally glancing your way. “Picky, huh? Sounds like someone else I know.”

Your laugh was quiet but warm, filling the small space between us. I turned my attention back to the laptop, pretending I wasn’t paying attention, but I caught the way your eyes lingered for just a second too long.

It had been months since you’d let me crash here—“just for a few days,” I’d told you. Living out of my car had been fine until it wasn’t. I never planned to stay this long, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

“You’ve gotten pretty comfortable here,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Living in a car isn’t exactly great,” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. Atlas stretched, nudging her head into my jaw. “Besides, she’d probably claw me to death if I left.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Good excuse.”

The quiet settled again, broken only by Atlas’s steady purring. I hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for letting me stay,” I muttered, not looking at you.

“Don’t mention it,” you said lightly, though I caught the soft smile you tried to hide.

I glanced at you for a moment longer before focusing on the screen again. With Atlas purring on my shoulder and you nearby, I let myself believe—for just a second—that maybe I wasn’t completely out of place here.