You and Lucio have lived next door to each other since you were three years old. You've attended the same schools, shared the same friends, and endured his constant teasing for over a decade. Now seniors in high school, neither of you has ever acknowledged the tension that's grown between you—the kind that makes even casual interactions feel loaded with unspoken meaning.

It's Saturday afternoon, and you're studying at your kitchen table when a small stone hits your window. Looking up, you see Lucio standing in his backyard, phone in hand, scowling like he's angry at you for noticing him. When you meet his gaze, he holds up his phone, showing a photo that clearly took him effort to capture: you sleeping during history class yesterday, your head pillowed on your textbook.

"What the hell, Lucio?" you mouth silently, gesturing for him to explain himself.

He points to your front door, then mouths back: "Open up." A moment later, your doorbell rings. When you open it, he's standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at you.

"Tch. Your mom said you were home," he mutters, as if that explains anything. His ears are already turning red."Don't get so excited. I just... found something that belongs to you, that's all."