Astrid stretched and then yawned. I g her—actally catg a glimpse of her cy white bra underh her shirt.
I looked away and tinued reading on my phone. I had started reading when I’d had enough of the sit we were watg.
I didn’t turn it off, though. I left it on for background noise.
“I fell asleep,” she mumbled groggily.
“On me, yeah,” I said dryly.
“fy…” she murmured. “I might just keep you forever.”
“I’m not a body pillow,” I said. “Also, get off me—you’re heavy, and you’ve been sleeping on me for over an hour now.”
“No…” she mumbled, her eyes shutting again.
“You know I feel your boobs pressing against me, right?” I pointed out.
She tensed slightly but, surprisingly, didn’t move. Instead, she rexed even more, leaning against me.
“Fair trade. I get to sleep on you, and you get to feel some of my womanly attributes,” she teased.
“Womanly attributes?” I scoffed. “Please… we’re only sixteen. At most, it’d be girlish charm.”
“Yeah, yeah… just admit you’re secretly enjoying it,” she shot back.
Her arms snaked around my body, pulling herself in like this was the most natural thing in the world.
This was getting out of hand. A few ho, we barely spoke. Now she was draped over me like we’d been doing this forever. Was I supposed to stop her? Did I even want to?
The stra part wasn’t that she was doing it—it was that I didn’t really mind.
“I never said I wasn’t,” I muttered. “And hey, yetting too fortable around me…”
“It’s your fault for being weird.”
“You know… this is teically sexual harassment,” I said.
She stilled for a sed. Then, her lips twitched.
“…Shit. You’re right.” A beat. Then, without missing a step—“Still don’t care. fy.”
I sighed, cheg the time. “It’s like 7 PM. What time do your parents get home? Mine are already blowing up my phone.”
“Hmm… Mum usually es home te, maybe around 10 PM. She’s been w a lot of overtime tely—she wants that promotion,” she expined.
“And your dad?”
“Don’t know him,” she said with a shrug.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it’s just me and my mum. And I like it that way, anyway.” A pause. Then, a little quieter—“Who cares about that asshole?”
“Yeah… ‘Men are assholes and liars anyway,’” I teased, quoting what she had said earlier at lunch.
She stiffe that, and for a sed, I thought she might actually hit me.
Instead, she let out a slow breath, giving me a light but threatening squeeze.
“…Shut up, Henry,” she muttered. Another pause. Then, as if deg something, she sighed. “Yeah… I really don’t want to talk about that.”
I didn’t say anything, scrolling on my phone.
“But… fuck my ex. I’m doh him.”
“Hmm,” I replied, scrolling through another novel.
“Not even curious?” she asked.
“Not really. It’s none of my business,” I said.
“Long story short—he cheated on me. And I was stupid enough tive him the first time. Then that jerk, Jared, did it again. Ugh, just thinking about it pisses me off all ain.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” she asked incredulously, pulling away from me to look at my face.
I gave her a fused look.
She shen burst out ughing, loud and urained.
“You’re ridiculously weird, you knorobably why you’re still single,” she joked.
“I’m single by choice,” I said, pouting. “…Not my choice,” I added under my breath.
At that, she ughed even harder.
***
Astrid was still ughing when she flopped bato the couch, her head resting on my p this time.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yetting way too fortable.”
She just smirked up at me. “You’re warm. And you’re not stopping me.”
She wasn’t wrong. But at this point, I wasn’t even sure why I wasn’t stopping her.
I sighed, setting my phone down. “You do realize people would lose their minds if they saw us like this, right?”
Astrid hummed, twirling a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. “Yeah, probably.”
“And you don’t care?”
She shrugged. “Nah.”
That was… surprising. I always assumed pirls cared about their image.
“Why not?” I asked.
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful for a sed. “Dunno. I guess I’m just tired.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah. Tired of pretending to care about all the stupid high school shit—who’s dating who, who’s the hottest, who’s got the most followers.” She sighed. “I mean, yeah, it’s fun sometimes, but other times… it’s just exhausting.”
I frowned slightly. “So what, you decided I’m your new escape from all that?”
She smirked, nudging my stomach with her elbow. “Maybe. You’re kinda fun to mess with.”
I gave her a ft look. “Right. Because being used for your amusement is su honor.”
“See? This is why I like hanging out with you,” she grinned. “You don’t act like every uy who tries too hard around me. You don’t flirt, you don’t try to impress me, you just… exist.”
I blinked. “That’s the most baded pliment I’ve ever heard.”
She snickered. “It’s a talent.”
We fell into a fortable silence again. The sit on TV kept pying in the background, but her of us were really watg anymore.
After a moment, Astrid spoke again, her voice quieter this time.
“…You really don’t care about retionships, huh?”
I thought about it.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I mean, I get why people want them. But I don’t see the point in f something just to avoid being alone.”
She was quiet for a sed. Then—
“…Yeah.” She exhaled. “That makes sense.”
I gnced down at her. Her face was rexed, but there was something else there. Something… off.
I debated whether to ask.
Before I could decide, she ged the subject.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone before,” she said, gng up at me.
I shrugged. “I like my space.”
“So you’re just a loner?”
“Not a loner. Just selective.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, same thing.”
I smirked slightly. “If you say so.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “Guess I should feel special then, huh?”
I gnced down at her, meeting her gaze. “Maybe.”
She blinked.
For the first time, she actually looked caught off guard.
The teasing glint in her eyes faltered for half a sed before she quickly looked away, clearihroat.
“Ugh, okay, that was weird. I didn’t like that,” she muttered, sitting up abruptly.
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, grabbing her mug and taking a sip of her now-lukewarm hot chocote.
I smirked. “You’re flustered.”
She shot me a gre. “Shut up.”
I leaned back against the couch, amused.
Astrid Bright—flustered. Iing.
She huffed, trying to ge the subject. “Anyway, if I ever get a boyfriend again, you better approve of him.”
I scoffed. “That’s not happening.”
“What, me getting a boyfriend?” she teased.
“No, me approving.”
She snorted. “Wow. Protective much?”
“Not protective,” I said. “Just have low expectations.”
She gasped, clutg her chest. “Henry! Do you not believe in my taste in men?”
“No,” I said bluntly.
She threillow at me.
I caught it easily, smirking as she gred.
“Rude,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
I shrugged. “I mean, Jared—really?”
She groaned. “Okay, okay, I get it—he was a mistake.”
I tossed the pillow back at her. “Just don’t make another one.”
She caught it, staring at me for a sed before shaking her head with a small smile.
“…You’re weird.”
“So you keep saying.”
She exhaled, leaning back against the couch again.
And just like that, the versatioled bato something easy.
Like we had been doing this for years.
***
Astrid rested her head against the couch, absentmindedly tossing the pillow in the air and catg it. The glow from the TV flickered across her face, but her of us were really paying attention to the show anymore.
She broke the silence first.
“So… be ho,” she said, still tossing the pillow. “Did you think I was gonna be annoying?”
I g her. “What?”
“When I sat with you at lunch,” she crified. “Did you think, ‘Ugh, great, this girl’s gonna talk my ear off and ruin my pead quiet’?”
I thought about it.
“…A little.”
She snorted. “K.”
“To be fair, you do talk a lot.”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “I tribute to versations, Henry. It’s called being social.”
I smirked. “Sounds exhausting.”
She groaned. “You are exhausting.”
I didn’t argue.
She sighed, finally dropping the pillow into her p. “…But you don’t mind, right?”
I tilted my head. “Mind what?”
“That I sat with you. That I’m here. That I’m…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “Being annoying.”
I exhaled, stretg my legs out in front of me.
“If I minded, I wouldn’t be here.”
She blinked.
Then, to my surprise, her expression softened—not teasing, not smug. Just… quiet.
“…Good,” she said after a moment, barely above a whisper.
We sat there for a while, the TV filling the sileween us.
Then she suddenly nudged my arm with her elbow.
“Alright, your turn,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For asking something,” she said, sitting up. “We’ve been talking about me all night. What about you?”
I shrugged. “What about me?”
She gave me a look. “e on, Henry. You’re, like, this mysterious little enigma of sarcasm and deadpan respohere’s gotta be something iing about you.”
I hummed. “What if there’s not?”
“Then I’ll be so disappointed.”
I smirked. “Devastating.”
“Seriously, though,” she pressed. “What’s your deal?”
I sidered that. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She thought for a sed. “Okay, like—what do you want to do? After school, after all this high school bullshit—what’s the pn?”
I frowned slightly. “You’re asking about my future?”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“That’s a loaded question.”
Astrid grinned. “Good. A.”
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
“…I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think that far ahead.”
She blinked. “Like, at all?”
“Not really.”
She tilted her head, studyihat’s kind of weird.”
I smirked. “So you keep saying.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t let it go. “But, like—what do you like? What’s something that actually excites you?”
I thought about that.
“…Books,” I said after a pause.
She snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”
“Food.”
“Again—duh.”
I g her. “You said to answer.”
“Yeah, but I meant real answers,” she said. “Like… I don’t know, do you have some secret hobby or weird talent or—”
“I write,” I said suddenly.
Astrid stopped.
Her eyes widened slightly. “…Wait. What?”
I shifted slightly, unfortable uhe sudden attention. “I write. Stories. Sometimes.”
She sat up, looking way too ied now. “Henry.”
I sighed. “Here we go.”
“You write?” she repeated, like she couldn’t believe it.
“Yes, Astrid.”
She gasped dramatically. “How have you not mentiohis before?”
I shot her a dry look. “Because nobody asked?”
“Oh my God.” She grabbed my arm, shaking it slightly. “Wait, wait—what kind of stories? Like fantasy? Horror? Romance?”
I hesitated. “A mix.”
Her eyes practically lit up. “ I read one?”
“No.”
She pouted. “Why not?”
“Because they’re mine.”
She crossed her arms. “That’s not a real reason.”
I sighed. “It is to me.”
She studied me for a sed, then tilted her head. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling a little. “Just… didn’t expect that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That I write?”
She shrugged. “No. That you have something you care about.”
I frowned. “Everyone cares about something.”
She hummed, resting her in her palm. “Yeah… but most people don’t try to hide it.”
I didn’t respond.
For once, Astrid didn’t push.
Instead, she nudged my leg lightly with her foot. “One day, I’m gonna make you let me read one of your stories.”
I smirked. “Doubt it.”
She grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
The versation trailed off again, but something about the air between us had ged.
Not in a bad way.
Just… different.
***
Astrid tapped her fingers against the couch, staring at me like she was still trying to pieething together.
“What now?” I asked, already sensing another question ing.
She exhaled. “I don’t know. I just—” She paused, then smirked. “I think I like this version of you.”
I frowned. “What version?”
“The ohat actually talks,” she said, nudging my kh her foot. “You usually keep everything locked up in that brooding little head of yours, don’t you?”
“I don’t brood.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Henry, you definitely brood.”
I sighed. “A, you keep hanging around me.”
“Obviously. You’re my new favorite person.”
I blinked.
“…That was fast,” I muttered.
She grinned. “I don’t waste time.”
I shook my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“A, you still haven’t kicked me out.”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
She ughed, stretg her arms over her head before flopping onto her side, fag me. “Okay, serious question.”
I sighed dramatically. “Of course there’s another question.”
“If you had to date someone—hypothetically—what kind of person would you go for?”
I gave her a bnk stare. “That’s your serious question?”
“Yes.” She looked way too ied.
I shook my head, thinking. “I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t expect me to eain them all the time.”
Astrid snorted. “Good luck with that.”
I ignored her. “Someone who’s not fake. Someone I don’t have to stantly guess with.”
She hummed, sidering. “So basically… someone you just exist with?”
“Yeah,” I said simply.
She was quiet for a moment, staring at me with a thoughtful look.
“…That’s kind of nice,” she murmured.
I raised an eyebrow. “What is?”
She shrugged, pying with the hem of her shirt. “Just… not overplig things.”
I leaned back against the couch. “Most people do overplicate things.”
Astrid let out a dry ugh. “Tell me about it.”
We psed into silence again, but something about it felt different. Heavier.
She suddenly looked more tired than before—not just physically, but in a way that sat deep in her bones.
“…You should probably go soon,” she said quietly.
I blihat was ued.
She caught my expression and sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that. I just—I don’t want my mum asking questions whes home.”
I nodded slowly. “Right.”
Astrid hesitated, like she wao say something else. But instead, she just reached for my arm and squeezed it lightly. “Thanks for today.”
I tilted my head. “For what?”
She smiled a little. “Just… being here.”
I studied her, but she didn’t eborate.
So I just nodded.
“Yeah,” I said simply.
I stood up, grabbing my bag. She followed me to the door, leaning against the frame as I stepped outside.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
Astrid smirked. “Yeah… unless you decide to ditch me.”
“No promises.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t seem worried.
I turo leave, but just before I stepped off the porch, I heard her call my name.
“Henry.”
I gnced back.
She shifted on her feet, crossing her arms. “Don’t go back to eating lunch alone, okay?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Because I’ll find you anyway.”
I let out a shh. “Stalker behavior.”
She grinned. “You love it.”
“Also, give me your number,” she added.
I did, and she let me go with a tented smile.
Shaking my head, I smirked slightly as I turned back toward the street.
She was impossible.
A… I didn’t mind.
