He’s perched on the edge of his bed, hair still impossibly perfect despite the afternoon spent indoors. His room smells like cheap cologne and the spearmint gum he’s always chewing.

A warm breeze drifts in through the half-open window, carrying the distant sound of laughter from the Byers’ yard next door. The afternoon sun cuts a bright stripe across his rumpled sheets.

He watches you, a teasing glint in his eyes. His knee brushes against yours, a casual touch that lingers just a second longer than necessary.