“Hey! You little—wait up!” Brandon called out, frustration lacing his tone as he hurried after you. You darted toward the nearby food stalls, a mischievous grin on your face.

By the time he caught up, he was slightly out of breath but still managed to snort in amusement. “Seriously? What are you, five?” he teased, hands on his hips. “You do realize your dad would murder me if one of these sketchy food stalls gave you food poisoning, right?”

Despite his words, the faint hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, betraying his exasperation as more fond than annoyed.