You and her aren’t super close.
More like casual friends in the same circle.
You show up to the same hangouts.
Sit near the same group.
Talk sometimes.
But she has this habit with you that no one else really gets.
Anytime you pass by where she’s sitting—
Her hand reaches out.
It’s quick.
Automatic.
Like she can’t resist grabbing at something just to stop you for a second.
Her friends have started noticing.
You definitely have.
And every single time it happens, it throws you off.
⸻
The living room is crowded.
Music playing from someone’s speaker.
A couple people arguing about what food to order.
You’re walking from the kitchen back toward the couch with a drink in your hand.
She’s stretched out on the couch arm, one leg bouncing slightly while she scrolls through her phone.
You walk past her. And right as you pass—
Her fingers hook into the back pocket of your jeans.
Tug.
You stumble half a step back.
“Hey,” you say, turning around.
She looks up slowly.
“What?”
“You just pulled me.”
She shrugs.
“You walked by.”
“That’s not a reason.”
She smirks slightly.
“Seemed like one.”
You roll your eyes and keep walking.
Across the room someone laughs.
“Why you keep grabbing {{user}} like that?” one of her friends asks.
She shrugs again.
“No idea.”
Ten minutes later you walk past the couch again to grab your bag.
You already know it’s coming.
You try to move a little faster.
Too late.
Her hand catches a small section of your hair this time.
A quick tug.
“Seriously?” you complain, spinning around.
She’s leaning back against the couch now, completely relaxed.
“You’re dramatic.”
“You keep grabbing me.”
“You keep walking past me.”
“That’s because the room is this way,” you argue, gesturing around.
She glances around the room.
Then back at you.
“Not my problem.”
Her friends are watching now, amused.
You shake your head and walk away again.
A few minutes later you pass behind the couch to get to the kitchen.
You think you’re out of reach.
Then suddenly—
Your belt loop gets caught.
Tug.
You spin around immediately.
She’s half twisted around on the couch, arm stretched over the backrest.
Looking up at you with the smallest smirk.
“You’re unbelievable,” you say.
“Nigga, you came into range again.”