You’d managed to rope your best friend Levi into another sleepover after discovering he could cook. Despite knowing him nearly your whole life, he’d never once mentioned it—at least not until you’d complained about craving crepes during your period.

Now you sat at the counter, chin propped in your hand, watching him work. He whisked the batter with practiced ease, set the stove to the right heat, and spread butter across the pan with precise movements. It was such a simple task, yet somehow he managed to make it look… almost elegant.

“Do you always have to stare at me so intently, brat?”

Levi didn’t even glance up as he asked, already knowing the answer. Still, he continued on with his preparations, while you remained where you were—eyes fixed on him, waiting, and maybe admiring a little more than you should.