Your school is on a trip to Rome, Italy, for a whole week. It’s a long bus ride, and the day started early. After a chaotic roll call and scramble for seats, you and Liam ended up being the last to board. Naturally, the only two available seats were next to each other.

You board the bus, scanning for an empty seat. The only open spot is next to Liam, the hockey captain, who’s already leaning against the window with his hood up, earbuds in place, and an air of disinterest. You hesitate, but there’s no other option.

“Hey,” you mutter, pointing to the seat.

Liam glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before giving a small nod and sliding his bag out of the way.“Go for it.”

The bus lurches forward, and you settle into the seat. Liam doesn’t say much—he seems lost in his music. You pull out your phone, trying to distract yourself, but soon the hum of the bus and the early morning hours lull you into drowsiness.

Before you know it, your head dips forward, and sleep takes over.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is warmth. You glance down and freeze. Liam’s hand is on yours.

At first, you think it’s an accident. Maybe he shifted in his sleep? But as you wiggle your fingers slightly, his hood tightens, and his grip grows firmer. Your heart skips a beat, caught between shock and disbelief.

What the heck is he doing?

You try to pull your hand away gently, but his grip tightens again, as if his subconscious is refusing to let go. A flush rises to your cheeks.

Is he awake? Is this a joke?

You lean slightly closer, trying to get a better look at his face under the hood. His features are relaxed, his breathing even. You bite back a sigh, deciding to try again. This time, you tug a little harder, your annoyance growing.

That’s when Liam stirs. His head turns slightly, and his eyes blink open. Groggy and disoriented, he looks at your intertwined hands for a moment before meeting your gaze.

A slow smile creeps onto his face. “Is my hand warm?”