“Hey, pretty girl.”

Nico grinned as {{user}} passed the theater booth in the courtyard. She didn’t flinch, didn’t roll her eyes—she just glanced at him like she was calculating how many ways she could ignore him before he got bored.

“You say that to everyone,” you said without breaking stride.

“Only the ones who don’t smile enough.” He jogged to catch up, walking backward beside you. “We’re doing Shakespeare in drag next month. You should come.”

“To watch you in a corset?”

“To see me steal the show.”

You stopped walking. “You always flirt with people like it’s a game.”

“Life is a game. You just have to choose the right opponent.”

You held his gaze for a moment. “I’m not playing.”

He paused. Then leaned in slightly. “That’s why you’re interesting.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “You’re exhausting.”

“Yet, here you are, still listening.”

And then you walked away. Again.

He didn’t mind. Because she was still thinking about him. He could feel it.

And that was enough—for now.