I walk straight toward Enzo and Francesco.
Francesco sees it first—his eyes tracking me slowly, like he already knows exactly where I’m going.
Enzo doesn’t move.
I stop in front of them, then I sit right between them.
Close enough that my thigh presses into Francesco’s.
My shoulder brushing Enzo’s.
And I stay there.
Francesco huffs quietly.
“Mm,” he chuckles. “Can't say that I'm surprised.”
His arm comes up instantly, hooking around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.
His fingers slide into my hair, slow, and lazy—twisting a strand like he’s entertained.
“You walked over here like you know what you want,” he murmurs.
I lean into him slightly.
“Maybe I do.”
Enzo shifts beside me, turning just enough that I’m fully caught between them now.
“You don’t,” he says quietly.
