You’re trying so hard to act normal.

Not lean into him. Not smile like an idiot when he hands you your drink with a “no ice, just how you like it” without even asking. Not melt when he sits behind you on the grass and rests his chin on your shoulder, casually like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your friends are staring. Not rude-staring, just suspicious. Just silently-judging, side-eying, something-is-happening-and-you’re-not-saying-what staring.

And then it happens.

You’re laughing at something — something dumb, probably something about Chris spilling sauce on Isabella’s silk pants — when Xavier leans in and kisses the edge of your jaw. Not even shy. Just soft. Familiar.

Silence.

You freeze.

Jules drops her spoon. “Wait.”

Xavier just hums. “What?”

“You guys are like—together together?!”

He doesn’t even blink. “We’ve been together for weeks.”

“Weeks?!”

You groan. Hide your face in his shoulder.

Solane gasps. “So the hoodie you wore at brunch—”

“Was his,” Stella finishes, mouth open. “And the hickey. That was real?!”

Xavier just smirks. “Should I apologise or…?”

Your other friend just shakes her head. “I thought this was a ‘we’re-just-talking’ situation. You’re telling me it’s boyfriend-girlfriend status?!”

You look up at Xavier.

He looks down at you like you hung the stars.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s mine.”