21. movie night

The days after our pancake brunch seemed to pass in a soft, golden blur. Hamzah and I had fallen into a rhythm, the kind of easy coexistence that felt like it had always been there. We spent our days doing our own things-me working on a new project for my art class, and Hamzah alternating between streaming, editing, and binge-watching some crime drama on the couch. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other.

Like now. I was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, my sketchpad balanced on my lap, surrounded by pencils, charcoal, and a few scattered erasers. Hamzah was sprawled out on the couch, his phone in one hand, the other lazily tossing a stress ball into the air.

"You've been staring at that page for an hour," he said, his voice light with amusement. I glanced up at him. "It's called thinking. You should try it sometime." He smirked, tossing the stress ball in my direction. It landed with a soft thud on my sketchpad. "You're hilarious." I rolled my eyes and picked up the ball, throwing it back at him. "I'm trying to figure out how to capture motion in this piece. My professor said my last one was too static." Hamzah sat up, his interest piqued. "Show me."

I hesitated for a moment before flipping the sketchpad around to show him the rough outlines of my new piece. It was a dynamic scene-a dancer mid-spin, their movements meant to be fluid and expressive.

"Looks amazing to me," he said, leaning forward to study it more closely. "But what do I know? I just press buttons and yell at video games for a living." I laughed. "It's not bad, but it's missing something. I want it to feel alive, like you can almost see the movement happening." Hamzah tilted his head, considering. "What if you added some light effects? Like streaks or blurs to show where they've been? Kind of like a time-lapse photo." I blinked at him, surprised. "That's... actually a great idea." He grinned, leaning back against the couch. "What can I say? I'm a genius."

Before I could retort, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was a message from Mandy in the group chat.

Mandy: Movie night at ours. Bring snacks. Don't be late.Martin: Popcorn or death. Chase: If we're watching rom-coms again, I'm out.Claire: Shut up, you love rom-coms.

I snorted at the exchange and held up my phone. "Guess we're going out tonight." "Better bring the fancy popcorn," Hamzah said, stretching as he stood. "Martin's got standards."

By the time we arrived at Mandy and Martin's apartment, the group was already in full swing. Claire and Chase were sprawled on the floor with a bowl of chips between them, Mandy was queuing up a movie, and Martin was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets.

"You're late," Mandy said as we walked in, though her tone was more teasing than annoyed. "We brought popcorn," I said, holding up the bag. "Does that make up for it?" "Depends," Martin called from the kitchen. "Is it buttered or plain?" "Buttered, obviously," Hamzah said, tossing the bag onto the counter. Martin gave an approving nod as he tore it open. "You're safe this time."

We settled into the living room, Hamzah and I taking the last two spots on the couch. It wasn't long before Mandy noticed something.

"Okay, is it just me, or are you two always sitting next to each other lately?" she said, a sly grin spreading across her face. Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "What, am I not allowed to sit on the couch anymore?" "I'm just saying," Mandy said, her voice sing-songy. "You two seem... close." "Please," I said quickly, my cheeks warming. "We're just roommates." "Sure," Claire chimed in, smirking. "Totally normal for 'just roommates' to make heart eyes at each other." "I don't make heart eyes," Hamzah said, rolling his eyes. "Except for when Cora's around," Martin muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Chase. "You guys are ridiculous," I said, crossing my arms and trying to ignore the way my face was burning. "Hey, we're just calling it like we see it," Mandy said, throwing a piece of popcorn at me.

Hamzah and I exchanged a glance, both of us clearly fighting to keep straight faces.

"Can we just watch the movie?" Hamzah said, shaking his head.

The teasing eventually died down as the movie started, though I could still feel the occasional glance from Mandy or Claire. Despite their comments, I couldn't bring myself to move farther away from Hamzah.

At one point, as the rom-com's protagonist delivered a dramatic monologue about love, Hamzah leaned over and whispered, "This guy's got nothing on me." I snorted, trying to stifle my laugh. "Oh, really? Let's hear your dramatic love speech then." Hamzah grinned, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't need a speech. My actions speak louder."

For a second, the teasing atmosphere dissolved, and his words hung between us, heavier than I expected. I looked at him, my heart racing, but before I could respond, the group erupted into laughter at something on screen, breaking the moment.

The rest of the night passed in a comfortable blur, but as Hamzah and I walked home, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at me during the movie, or the way my heart had skipped when he leaned in.

The others could tease all they wanted, but whatever was happening between us... I wasn't sure either of us was ready to define it yet.