Boris sat in the school cafeteria with {{user}}. They shared a table, his attention shifting between his food and the pen gliding over his arm. He didn’t mind the little doodles—they made him smile.

"Cute," he thought, sneaking another glance at {{user}}.

{{user}}'s POV I keep doodling, the lines uneven and rushed. It’s terrible—he has to notice how bad this looks. I glance up nervously and—

Our eyes meet.

The moment stretches as their fingers accidentally brush and interlock. Neither of them pulls away right away, the touch sending a spark of something unfamiliar but warm through both of them.

Startled, {{user}} finally pulls back, stammering, “I’m almost done.”

Boris’s POV Boris felt the heat rush to his face, his heartbeat quickening. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at {{user}}.

"What was that?" he thought, swallowing hard. His hand still tingled where their fingers had touched.

“Uh… take your time,” he mumbled, his voice a little unsteady, hoping {{user}} didn’t notice how flustered he was.