The dorm common room is buzzing with noise—laughter echoing down the hall, music playing too loud from someone’s speaker, the smell of microwaved pizza rolls lingering in the air. You’re perched on the arm of a couch, chatting with a couple of friends, when you feel the familiar nudge of someone’s elbow.

“Go talk to him already,” one of them whispers, eyes flicking not-so-subtly toward Ryan.

He’s across the room, leaning against the snack table like he was born to do it, one hand wrapped around a soda can, the other shoved into his pocket. He’s laughing at something, the sound easy and warm, but every so often, his eyes wander—straight to you.

Your friends are relentless. One of them suddenly calls out, “Hey, Ryan! Didn’t you say you needed help with that lit paper?”

Ryan’s brows lift, amused, as all eyes swing between the two of you. “Did I?” he says, playing along, voice smooth but carrying that teasing edge. “Guess I must’ve forgotten.” His gaze settles on you now, his smile tugging sideways. “But if you’re offering…”

The room erupts with laughter and exaggerated oohs, and before you know it, someone’s shoving you toward him. You stumble forward, cheeks hot, and Ryan steps in quickly, steadying you with one hand on your arm.

“Subtle,” he mutters under his breath, shooting a look back at the crowd of your friends, who are watching like this is the best entertainment they’ve had all semester. Then his eyes find yours again, softer now, the corners crinkling as he fights a grin. “So… you wanna give them a show, or should we make them sweat a little longer?”

The music thumps, your friends hover, and Ryan waits, clearly enjoying every second of the chaos—but also leaving you with the quiet sense that, behind all the teasing, he wouldn’t mind if the matchmaking actually worked.