You’re sitting on his bed, shivering just a little when Charlie notices.

“Wait—here,” he says, tugging off his hoodie. “You can wear mine.”

You blink. “You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll survive,” he mumbles, already helping you pull it over your head.

It smells like his shampoo and something warmer—something him.

Charlie watches you in it, cheeks pink. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You grin. “You sure you didn’t just want an excuse to see me in your clothes?”

He hides his face in a pillow. “Maybe.”