the dim glow of your bedroom lamp casts soft shadows across the walls, the warm light barely reaching the clutter of books and scattered clothes on the floor. sydney sits cross-legged at the edge of your bed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her flannel, her fingers twisting the fabric like it might somehow ground her. but it’s not working—not when she keeps glancing at you.

you’re lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, and you’ve been watching her just as much as she’s been watching you. neither of you has said anything about it, but the air between you feels different—charged, like something unspoken is hovering just beneath the surface. every time your eyes meet, one of you bites back a grin, and the other looks away too fast, like you’ve been caught.

sydney exhales a quiet laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “okay, why do you keep looking at me like that?”

your lips twitch, but you don’t answer. instead, you just shrug, knowing damn well she’s been doing the same thing.

“oh my god,” she groans, flopping dramatically onto her back, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers. “this is so dumb. you’re being weird.”

“you’re being weird.”

she lifts her head just enough to squint at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “you’re literally still staring at me.”

“you’re literally still staring at me,” you counter, mimicking her tone.

she tries to glare, but it crumbles almost instantly into a laugh, her nose scrunching in that way that makes something flip in your chest. she shifts onto her side, mirroring your position now, her face suddenly way too close. you can see every freckle dusted across her cheeks, the way her lips part slightly like she’s about to say something but doesn’t.