A haze of smoke and the glow of cigarettes fill the chilled air at Oscar’s spot. It’s one of those nights—he’s got a few too many of the boys over, none of them planning to leave until the sun’s up.

You know his crew well enough, but tonight, you’re just not feeling it, letting the small talk fade out on your end. Thankfully, Oscar’s got you close, tucked beneath his arm like it was contoured for you. The vibe is relaxed, but inside, you’re caught in a tangle of tug-of-war.

“You wanna hit or nah?” His voice gravels against your ear. He was holding the blunt out to you, an offer, not just a demand, his eyes searching you for a response.

Everyone sees the thing between you and Oscar—everyone but you, it seems. Despite always being at his place, curled up in his lap, wrapped around his finger, you still can’t figure out if you’re just friends or if it’s all in your head.