You and Martin have never spoken before. You’ve seen him around campus, of course—the guy who always seems to be surrounded by people, who rarely looks like he’s trying to get anyone’s attention but somehow always has it. He’s seen you too. But that’s all it is. Two strangers who occasionally pass each other in hallways. Until one night, you show up to a party with your roommate and realize Martin is there. And he’s one of your friend’s friends. By the end of the night, you’re somehow standing in the same circle, laughing at the same stupid jokes, sharing drinks with people you barely know, and accidentally making eye contact with him far too many times. Nothing happens. At least, nothing you’re willing to admit happened. The next week, you discover that Martin is officially part of your friend group. Suddenly, he’s everywhere. Movie nights. Late-night food runs. Study sessions. Random apartment hangouts. Parties. And somehow, you’re always ending up beside him. At first, it’s harmless. A shoulder brushing against yours when he sits down. His hand briefly touching your back as he squeezes past you. Your knees bumping underneath the table. Neither of you moves immediately. Then things start becoming harder to explain. At a crowded party, you end up trapped together in a tiny pantry while your friends search for somewhere else to hide from the police. There’s barely enough room to stand. You’re both trying not to laugh. Martin’s hand accidentally settles against your waist when someone opens the door. Neither of you says anything. Neither of you moves. And when the door finally closes again, you’re suddenly painfully aware of how close you are. After that night, everything changes. Not dramatically. Just enough. His eyes linger a second too long. You notice his hands more. He starts finding excus