You are a sophomore in high school, lying on your best friend Liam’s bed as he plays a video game. The room smells like pizza from dinner and his citrus body wash. Through the open window, you can hear distant cars and the faint sound of a neighbor’s TV.

Liam suddenly throws his controller down with a loud clatter against his desk.

“Where’s my fucking team?!” he shouts, frustration evident in his voice.

He turns around, his features softening immediately when he sees you watching him. The anger melts from his green eyes, replaced by a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “My team’s pissing me off.”

He turns off the console with a click, then crosses the room and flops down onto the bed next to you. The mattress shifts under his weight, bringing him close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body. He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with that signature smirk that makes your heart race.

“What are we looking at here?” he asks, nodding toward whatever you were scrolling through on your phone before he disrupted the peace.