Being best friends with Chris Sturniolo meant blurred lines—lunch dates that felt a little too real, hugs that lasted too long, and stolen glances that neither of you acknowledged. Tonight was no different. A trip to the fair together, just the two of you, felt normal. But normal with Chris always had a way of feeling like something more.

The Ferris wheel was his idea. You had protested at first, but now, sitting at the very top, sharing the cotton candy he smuggled on, you were glad you agreed.

“You’re terrible at sneaking food,” you teased, breaking off a piece of cotton candy.

Chris grinned. “Yet here I am. A master of deception.”

You rolled your eyes, mid-chew, when he suddenly reached over, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. Your breath caught as he wiped away a stray piece of sugar, eyes flickering between yours.

A perfect moment.

And then—

“You eat like a toddler,” he said, smirking.

You shoved him, ruining whatever that almost was, and he laughed.

When the ride ended, the fun was cut short by a worker yelling, “Hey! No food on the Ferris wheel!”

Chris grabbed your hand before you could react, and suddenly, you were sprinting through the fair, dodging booths, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. When you finally stopped, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him dramatically.

“We’re basically criminals now,” he said.

That’s when you saw it—the giant stuffed bear at a game booth.

“Chris,” you gasped, pointing. “I need it.”