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“Is that my sweater?”
You look to your left and Anthony is eyeing you, seemingly looking at the sweater you have on.
“Uh, I dunno. Maybe?” You answer, shrugging your shoulders. It could be, you had a large collection of sweaters, and you don’t recall ever buying this one.
“Yeah, okay.” Anthony bumps his shoulder into yours, slightly unconvinced.
You glance down at the sweater, and it could be yours. It was oversized, dark grey, soft, and smelled vaguely like laundry detergent.
Actually, now that you thought about it, it smelled suspiciously like Anthony. But you had been hanging out with him all day, so maybe it was from that.
“...Maybe it is yours.” You mumble, becoming slightly unconvinced now as well.
Anthony snorts, “maybe?”
“I have a lot of sweaters, I don’t even know anymore.”
“Yeah, you have a lot of my sweaters.” Anthony snickers, giving you an unimpressed look.
“I've bought a lot of my sweaters!” You argue back to him, actually trying to remember the last time you bought a sweater.
He rolls his eyes at you, not buying anything you’re saying. “I buy a sweater, then two weeks later it disappears. Then, you’re wearing it.”
“I think you’re imagining things,” you grumble at him, knowing very well that it does happen.
“Am I?” Anthony asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Yes,” you scoff, grabbing onto the sleeves of the sweater, as if it would jump off of you and run away.
“You stole the green one.” He retorted, gently kicking your shin. He chuckled when he heard a slight “hey!” come from you.
“I borrowed the green one.” You mumbled and crossed your arms, slightly laying back on the couch you were both sitting on.
“You never gave it back.” He hummed, grabbing his laptop from the coffee table in front of you, and kicking his feet up onto it.
You open your mouth, and then close it again.
Anthony points at you immediately. “Exactly.”
“I'll give it back eventually.” You murmur and grab your phone, opening any app you can think of to draw your attention somewhere else.
“You said that six months ago.” He said back, playfully hitting your calf.
“Time isn't real.” You answer and rub your calf, as you look up at him and pretend it hurt. Anthony laughs, shaking his head.
The two of you are sprawled across his couch, some random movie playing in the background. Neither of you have paid attention to it in at least twenty minutes, too busy arguing about something completely ridiculous.
His eyes drift back to the sweater. “That's definitely mine, by the way.” He adds, still fixated on the stupid sweater.
“How can you tell?” You question him, sort of glaring at him because of how fixated he is over this.
“I bought it.” He hummed, pulling his eyes back down to his laptop.
“That doesn't mean anything.” You mumbled and looked up at the movie, you weren’t quite sure what was even on.
“I wore it all the time.” You turned to him and watched him supposedly ‘edit’ a video, he was just dragging the viewer bar back and forth.
“So do I.” He turned to look at you, and saw that your phone was just open on some random post on instagram, you weren’t even following the person.
“Yeah, that's the problem.” He responds, making eye contact with you now, and you try to ignore how warm the tips of your ears are.
You nudge him with your shoulder, and try to take your attention away from him by looking back down to your phone.
It’s open to the same instagram post from five minutes ago, so you close the app and look at the ceiling. “Maybe they like me more.”
Anthony lets out an offended noise, and holds his hand over his heart.
“You can’t steal my clothes and then say they chose you.”
“Sounds like something somebody whose clothes chose me would say.” You snorted and flicked your eyes back to him briefly, he was still staring at you.
He groans dramatically and leans back into the couch, still not taking his eyes off of you. “You're impossible.”
“Yet here you are.” You smile at him as you speak, and his eyes narrow at you. You couldn’t tell if it was out of annoyance, or if he was planning something.
“Unfortunately.” He murmurs, eyes still locked onto yours.
Despite the words, he's smiling, and you catch yourself smiling too.
For a moment, the conversation fades, and the movie continues to play. The room is comfortable and warm, lit mostly by the television and the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows.
Anthony glances over at you again. “You know,” he says, “I could just ask for it back.”
You look down at the sleeves hanging over your hands, “you could.”
“I could.” He mutters, and you could swear his eyes flick down to your lips for a second.
Neither of you move, and a few seconds pass.
Then Anthony sighs. “Yeah, I'm not getting that sweater back, am I?”
“Nope.” You grin at him and lean back on the couch, almost letting the sweater cover you entirely.
“Can I ask for something else then?” He whispers to you, and you barely even catch it. Your heart stumbles over itself, and you don’t know why.
“Depends,” you manage, trying to sound far more composed than you feel. “What are you asking for?”
Anthony huffs out a quiet laugh. “You're really going to make me say it?”
“Probably.” You mimic his quiet laugh, and try to look anywhere but him.
He continues to look at you, watching how you try not to make eye contact with him. “That's cruel.”
“You'll survive.”
He shakes his head, but he doesn't look away.
The movie keeps playing in the background. Somebody on-screen is probably having an important conversation, but neither of you are paying attention anymore.
Anthony's laptop sits forgotten on his lap, and your phone is somewhere beside you on the couch. Neither of them matter right now.
“Okay,” he says eventually, and the word comes out quieter than usual.
“I was wondering if I could have a kiss.”
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him.
Anthony, who always seemed to have something to say.
Anthony, who could talk his way through almost anything.
Anthony, who suddenly looks nervous.
“Just one?” you ask.
His face immediately drops into mock offense. “Wow.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself and the tension breaks instantly.
Anthony rolls his eyes. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Nope.” Before he can turn away, you catch the sleeve of his hoodie.
His gaze snaps back to yours. “Nope?” he repeats.
“Nope,” you echo.
The smile that appears on his face is small, and actually genuine. The kind that sneaks up on him before he can hide it.
Slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, he leans closer. You meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft, the kind of kiss that doesn’t have fireworks, but will always be a core memory. The kind of memory you would think about before bed, and would always make you giddy.
It lasts only a second before both of you instinctively smile and bump your foreheads together.
Anthony laughs quietly. “Well.”
“Well,” you agree.
“I think that was a better deal than getting my sweater back.”
You grin. “Good, because you're still not getting it back.”
Anthony groans. “Unbelievable.”
“You knew what you were signing up for,” you playfully glared at him.
“Unfortunately, I did.” He chuckles.
Despite the complaint, he shifts closer until your shoulders are pressed together again, and neither of you bother looking back at the movie.
And when Anthony reaches over to steal one of your hands, you don't complain about that either.