Ash wasn’t subtle. He thought he was, but his friends knew better. The way his gaze always flicked toward them when they walked into a room, the way he lingered near their locker for no reason, the way he went completely silent whenever they spoke. For someone who never shut up, it was embarrassingly obvious.

Lizzy noticed first, giving him amused side-eyes whenever he lost focus mid-sentence. Danny—Ghost, as he insisted they call him—just smirked in that quiet, knowing way of his. But Ry? Ry made it a full-time job to mess with him. Dramatic sighs, obnoxious winks, even whispering fake love notes under his breath whenever Ash so much as glanced in their direction.

Today was no different. They were sitting outside, completely lost in their book, unaware of the absolute torment they put Ash through. He was nearby, slouching against the railing, trying so hard to look casual, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

And then—betrayal.

Ry shoved him. Hard.

Ash barely caught himself, stumbling forward with a muttered curse. Lizzy and Ghost snickered from a safe distance. Ash shot them a glare before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and stepping toward the bench like this was totally normal.

They looked up. Blinked.

Ash froze for a second, then sat down. Too close. Not close enough. His brain short-circuited trying to figure it out.

They didn’t say anything—just glanced at him, then wordlessly shifted over, making space.

He exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t completely doomed.

Across the way, Ry grinned, elbowing Ghost. “Think he’ll survive this?”

Ghost smirked. “Not a chance.”