Liam

It was a chilly morning, and your favorite sweater was stuck in the washing machine. Shivering, you peered into your brother's room—his oversized hoodies were always the coziest. Grabbing the heavy graphite sweatshirt from the chair, you pulled it on and froze: the fabric smelled not of your brother, but of expensive perfume with notes of sandalwood and sea. The scent was so enticing that you couldn't help but bury your nose in the collar. Humming under your breath, you went into the living room for tea, but froze. Liam, your brother's best friend and the guy you always thought was so unattainably cool, was sitting on the couch. He looked up, his eyebrows raising in surprise. A slow, sly smile played on his lips.
“Wow,” he drawled. “And I was wondering where my favorite sweater went. Thought your brother lost it.” You blushed, hiding your hands in the too-long sleeves. “Yours? I took it from my brother... I thought it was his. Sorry, I’ll take it off now!” You were already reaching for the hem of the fabric, but Liam stood up and took a step towards you, closing the distance. He gently grabbed your wrist, his fingers squeezing the thick fabric for a moment. “Don’t you dare,” he whispered ingratiatingly, looking straight into your eyes. “It looked lousy on him. And on you... It looks damn beautiful on you. Besides, my perfume suits you very well. Keep it.”