After we finished eating, Astrid wasted no time fgging down the waiter to get the bill, her movements sharp and deliberate—like she was physically restraining herself from committing some kind of crime.

  I, on the other hand, was still very pleased with myself.

  Her mum set down her napkin, smiling as she gnced at me. “Well, Henry, it was really nice getting to know you today.”

  I nodded, offering a polite smile. “You too, ma’am.”

  Astrid groaned quietly beside me. “God, stop calling her ma’am.”

  Her mum smirked. “Oh, I don’t mind. It makes me feel sophisticated.”

  I smirked back at Astrid. “See? I’m just being respectful.”

  She gred at me, her foot nudging mine under the table—hard.

  Her mum sighed, amused, before pulling out her wallet. “Alright, where to next? Do you two want to go anywhere, or am I dropping you off?”

  Astrid, clearly eager to change the subject, perked up slightly. “City centre?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “For?”

  “Clothing shops,” she said simply, finally turning toward me with a pointed look. “It’s called fashion, Henry. You wouldn’t get it.”

  I huffed a small ugh. “Oh, trust me, I do get it. I just didn’t realize you needed more clothes.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “You don’t need dessert after a meal, but you still get it.”

  Her mum chuckled, already pulling out her car keys. “Alright, city centre it is.”

  As we all stood, I felt a very subtle nudge against my side.

  Astrid.

  I smirked slightly. “Still mad?”

  She crossed her arms, tilting her chin up. “I don’t get mad.”

  I snorted. “Sure.”

  She shot me a look but didn’t argue. Instead, she brushed past me, grabbing her pink octopus plush from the table and clutching it dramatically against her chest.

  Her mum raised an eyebrow. “Are you really bringing that?”

  Astrid huffed, hugging it tighter. “Yes.”

  I smirked. “She can’t be away from Henry Jr. for too long.”

  Astrid immediately turned, eyes burning into me. “I will leave you in the middle of this city, Henry.”

  I ughed, following them out of the restaurant as her mum shook her head, clearly entertained.

  Astrid, however, was still annoyed.

  ***

  The city centre was packed.

  People buzzed around, carrying shopping bags, chatting loudly, or mindlessly scrolling on their phones as they walked. The air smelled like a mix of coffee, food stalls, and the faint, sharp scent of rain from earlier in the morning.

  Astrid was already leading the way, her steps determined, her pink octopus plush tucked securely under her arm. Her mum had decided to let us roam on our own, saying she had a few errands to run before picking us up ter.

  Which meant I was now completely at Astrid’s mercy.

  I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets as I followed her into the first store she set her sights on.

  Predictably, it was a clothing store.

  I gnced around at the racks of neatly folded shirts, rows of jackets, and mannequins dressed in outfits that probably cost more than my entire existence.

  Astrid hummed, scanning the dispys with a focused expression.

  I exhaled. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Instead, she wandered deeper into the store, her fingers grazing the different fabrics, her blue eyes scanning each section thoughtfully.

  I watched as she turned down another aisle, moving further away from the women’s section.

  I frowned.

  Wait.

  This was the men’s section.

  I blinked. “Uh… Astrid?”

  She hummed absently, picking up a shirt and holding it up in front of me, squinting like she was calcuting something.

  I stared at her. “Are you shopping for me?”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

  I blinked again. “Wait—what? I thought you wanted clothes.”

  “I do,” she said casually, grabbing a sweater and pressing it against my chest. “But your wardrobe is a crime against fashion, and as your girlfriend, I refuse to let you walk around looking like you got dressed in the dark.”

  I scowled. “Okay, rude.”

  She ignored me, tilting her head. “Hmm… navy looks good on you.”

  I huffed. “Astrid—”

  “Try this on,” she said, shoving a few items into my arms before pointing toward the fitting rooms.

  I stared at the pile of clothes Astrid had just dumped into my arms.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Astrid gave me a very unimpressed look. “Henry.”

  “No.”

  She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. “Do I need to remind you that I am the reason you have a girlfriend to begin with?”

  I frowned. “How is that relevant?”

  “If I had never confessed, we wouldn’t even be here right now.”

  I scowled. “And?”

  She smirked. “So, as my boyfriend, you are now legally required to wear things that I approve of.”

  I groaned. “That is not how retionships work.”

  “Too bad,” she said cheerfully. “Go try them on.”

  I rubbed my face, grumbling under my breath as I trudged toward the fitting rooms.

  I should’ve known this was going to happen.

  Fifteen minutes ter, I was standing in front of the mirror, staring at myself in Astrid-approved clothing.

  The navy sweater was actually… weirdly comfortable. The jeans weren’t too bad either—fitted, but not too tight.

  I exhaled.

  I hated that she had good taste.

  “Astrid,” I called through the curtain. “I look ridiculous.”

  “Let me see,” she demanded.

  I sighed dramatically before stepping out.

  Astrid immediately perked up.

  “Oh,” she muttered, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “I love this.”

  I frowned. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Nope.” She tilted her head, her blue eyes scanning me up and down, and suddenly I felt very exposed.

  After a beat, she crossed her arms and sighed wistfully. “Wow. My boyfriend is hot.”

  I choked. “Astrid—”

  She grinned, clearly thriving off my discomfort.

  “Yep,” she mused, circling me like she was inspecting her purchase. “You have to get this.”

  I rubbed my temples. “You’re so annoying.”

  “And yet,” she sing-songed, looping her arms around my neck, “you let me dress you.”

  I scowled. “More like forced.”

  She smirked. “Same thing.”

  I exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way she was way too close.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll get it.”

  Astrid beamed.

  As we made our way to the checkout counter, I reached into my pocket for my wallet—only for Astrid to swiftly snatch the clothes from my hands and plop them onto the counter before I could even react.

  The cashier, a bored-looking guy in his early twenties, barely acknowledged us as he scanned the items.

  I frowned. “Astrid—”

  “I got it,” she said smoothly, already pulling out her card.

  I scowled. “No, you don’t.”

  She turned, tilting her head at me. “Yes, I do.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not letting you pay for my clothes.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “And why not?”

  “Because that’s weird,” I muttered, lowering my voice. “I should be the one paying for my own stuff.”

  She smirked. “What, is your fragile masculinity at stake?”

  I scoffed. “No. I just—” I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “It’s my stuff. I should be the one paying.”

  Astrid gave me a look, like she was preparing to systematically dismantle my entire argument.

  “You know,” she mused, tapping her card against the reader, “I seem to remember a certain boyfriend of mine saying something about how I was the one who wanted to dress him.”

  I froze.

  The cashier scanned between us, clearly not being paid enough to care about whatever was happening.

  Astrid’s smirk widened. “And since I’m the one making you buy this, it only makes sense that I pay for it.”

  I scowled. “That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

  “Too te,” she sang as the machine beeped, confirming the purchase.

  I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Astrid—”

  She grabbed the bag and very pointedly handed it to me.

  “There. Happy?”

  I stared at her.

  She stared back, way too pleased with herself.

  I sighed heavily, shaking my head. “You infuriate me.”

  Astrid grinned, looping her arm around mine as we stepped away from the counter. “And yet, you still let me win.”

  I scoffed. “I did not let you win.”

  She hummed. “Mmm… sure.”

  I groaned. “I owe you for this.”

  She smirked. “Oh, trust me, boyfriend, I will absolutely cash in on that favor.”

  I should have been worried about that.

  But instead, I just exhaled, clutching the bag, already knowing that there was no winning against Astrid.

  ***

  As we stepped out of the store, Astrid was still grinning like she had just won a championship.

  Which, to be fair, she kind of had.

  I scowled at her. “You’re way too pleased with yourself.”

  She smirked, swinging the shopping bag lightly. “That’s because I am pleased with myself.”

  I sighed, rubbing my temple. “I hate that you won.”

  She hummed thoughtfully. “Do you, though?”

  I shot her a look. “Yes.”

  She grinned. “Well, too bad. Because I did win.”

  I groaned dramatically. “God, I can’t stand you.”

  Astrid leaned into me, squeezing my arm. “And yet,” she drawled, “you love me.”

  I froze.

  She froze.

  The air shifted.

  Astrid immediately straightened, eyes widening as her brain caught up with what she had just casually said.

  I blinked. “Huh.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I—” She coughed, averting her gaze. “That’s—shut up.”

  I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Astrid.”

  “No,” she muttered quickly. “We are not doing this right now.”

  “Oh, I think we are.”

  She groaned, pressing the shopping bag against my chest as a distraction. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I crossed my arms, tilting my head. “Oh? And how did you mean it?”

  Astrid visibly struggled, her hands curling into fists like she wanted to physically fight her own embarrassment.

  Then, after a moment, she exhaled sharply and looked at me, her expression serious.

  “…What if I did mean it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

  I blinked, caught off guard by how genuine she suddenly sounded.

  She held my gaze, her usual teasing demeanor repced with something softer. Something real.

  I swallowed.

  For once, I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Astrid studied me, waiting.

  Then, just as smoothly as ever, she forced a smirk and nudged my side. “You gonna freak out on me, boyfriend?”

  I exhaled slowly, shaking my head.

  “No,” I muttered.

  She hummed, linking our arms again. “Good.”

  We started walking again, the conversation left hanging between us—unfinished, yet understood.