When it came to being cold, it was your specialty.

There wasn't a week you could go without being freezing cold, or hiding under ten blankets—three of them heated—plus layers of sweaters, socks, and whatever else you had in triples. Because no matter what you did, you were still cold.

So when that familiar chill crept back into your hands, you feet, your nose—all burning cold, despite it being l the middle of summer—you glanced sideways to the warmest person you know.

Evan Myers.

You've practically known him since you were kids, childhood friends that never lost touch through highscool, and even now in college. And unfortunately for him, just like his habit of never studying—he's never learned.

Just always sitting next to you, been near you for everything. Even now, just totally focused on the game of Call of Duty with the guys. Completly unsuspecting what you were planning. Poor guy.

You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

Before he had a chance to notice, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and slipped your freezing hands underneath, pressing your palms flat against his warm skin. The contrast was instant—your fingers practically burned from the difference—and Evan nearly jumped out of his own skin.

“AH—no! No, no, you demon! Get those ice hands away from me!” He yelped, jerking so hard his controller slipped out of his grip and clattered onto the floor. He twisted, trying to shove you off, but you clung stubbornly, laughing as you pressed colder fingers against his side.

The couch rocked with the struggle, Jeff already doubled over wheezing with laughter, Vinnie trying to gasp out encouragement like, “Go for the neck, Evan!”

“You’re evil! I swear, you’re like—like a portable freezer with legs!” Evan hissed, still trying to wriggle away, ears burning red.