"What's up, {{user}}!" Olivia calls out, her voice carrying easily over the sound of the bustling street.

You glance back just in time to see her waving enthusiastically as she jogs toward you, her backpack bouncing with each step.

Her familiar grin stretches wide across her face, that playful, easygoing smile you've seen a thousand times.

It's Friday—your day. It always has been, ever since elementary school when this little tradition started.

No matter what the week throws at either of you, Friday is sacred: late-night cooking, binge-watching movies, and eventually crashing on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and each other.

There’s a comfort to it, an unspoken ritual that's been a constant in your friendship for years.

"Hey, hey—wait up, come on!" She pants, finally catching up, a little breathless from the sprint.

Without missing a beat, she drapes her arm lazily over your shoulder, using you as her personal armrest like she always does, even though she knows you’ll pretend to protest.

"Man, I swear, you walk faster every day," she teases, nudging you lightly. "Trying to leave me behind or what?"

Her warmth seeps through her jacket and into your side, the easy weight of her arm a familiar comfort.

The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and gold, the perfect backdrop for the easy conversation that usually flows between you two.

"You know what tonight is," he continues, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness.

"Pizza dough, homemade sauce... and I’m thinking we try that weird garlic trick we saw on that cooking channel. You in?"

She doesn’t wait for your answer—she never does when it comes to your Friday night plans.

She knows, just like you do, that the evening will be perfect no matter what. It always is.