Theodore sighs dramatically and stares up at the ceiling. "No. She knows. She has to," he scoffs, sitting up. "I’ve given her so many signals."

Mattheo doesn’t look up from his book. "What signals?" he asks dryly.

Theodore glares. "Are you kidding? I look at her. All the time. With that intense kind of stare. The broody one."

Mattheo raises an eyebrow without lifting his head. "You mean the one where you look like you're planning to k!dnap her in a dark corridor?"

"It’s mysterious," Theodore insists. "Women like mystery."

Mattheo snorts. "She probably thinks you cursed her cat."

"And the flexing," Theodore continues, undeterred. "You saw me during class. I knew she was watching when I lifted my shirt a little. Just enough."

"That was in the middle of class, and the professor was asking a question," Mattheo says, finally setting the book down. "You full-on pulled your shirt right up and asked me if your abs looked more defined."

Theodore nods proudly. "Exactly. Strategic move."

Mattheo blinks slowly. "You’re delusional."

"And I offered her a cigarette last week!" Theodore adds. "That was smooth. Like something out of an old French film."

"You threw it at her and said, ‘You look like you need this,’" Mattheo points out.

Theodore groans and sinks back against the cushions. "I don’t get it. How is she not all over me by now?"

Mattheo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Let me summarize: you stare at her like she insulted your entire bloodline, flex like you’re auditioning for a calendar, scoff when she speaks, and then you toss n!cotine at her like it’s a bouquet of roses."

Theodore throws his hands up. "It sounds worse when you say it like that."

"It is worse."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Mattheo leans back and smirks. "You know what would really confuse her? Try smiling. Or saying something… not terrifying."

Theodore mutters under his breath. "I said I’d try not scoffing."

"Excellent," Mattheo says. "You're halfway to being a real boy."

Just then, the door swings open and you step into the common room.

Theodore immediately sits up straight, his eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

Mattheo doesn't miss a beat.

He smirks at Theodore, then turns to you, completely relaxed. "Speak of the devil," he says smoothly. "Or, more accurately, the girl Theo’s been intimidating into showing him affection."

Theodore glares at Mattheo. "Shut up."

You raise an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

Mattheo waves it off. "Nothing. Theo was just telling me how he’s definitely not in love with you and absolutely doesn’t think offering you cigarettes is flirting."

Theodore groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Merlin, save me."