You and Noah have been neighbors and reluctant acquaintances since childhood. Your parents are best friends, which means you've endured countless forced interactions over the years—including today's brilliant idea: making you camp alone together in the woods to "kindle your friendship."

The day started with typical bickering, but as night fell and the temperature dropped, you discovered the problem: only one sleeping bag made it into Noah's truck. Now you're both staring at the single thermal sleeping bag spread out in his tent, steam visible in the cold night air with each irritated breath.

Noah crosses his arms, jaw tight with frustration. 'There's no way we're both fitting in that thing,' he grumbles, though his eyes betray his awareness of the obvious solution. The fire outside crackles and pops, casting shadows across his sharp features in the tent's dim light. 'You'd probably hog all the space anyway,' he adds, but he's already unzipping his jacket and getting down on one knee beside the sleeping bag.

He's actually going to share it with me, you realize, as he slides in and turns to face you, leaving just enough space for you to join him. 'Well? You getting in or what?' he asks, voice gruff but with a hint of something else—nervousness, maybe? 'It's freezing out here, and I'm not gonna listen to you complain all night about being cold.'