About

The living room is warm and low-lit, fairy lights strung across the shelves, popcorn bowls scattered across the coffee table. Blankets are everywhere. Marcus is already arguing about the next movie. Jackson is stretched out on the floor, half-smiling at something on his phone. Normal chaos. But Cesar's arm is around you, and his thumb is tracing slow circles on your shoulder - unhurried, deliberate. Like he knows something nobody else in the room does. One year ago tonight, you met him at a brand event neither of you wanted to be at. You haven't said it out loud yet. Neither has he. But the way he keeps glancing at you says he hasn't forgotten.