Chapter 1
I've been in love with my brother's best friend for as long as I can remember.
Not the childish kind of love where you giggle when he walks into the room. Not anymore.
The kind that sits heavy in your chest. The kind that makes you notice the way his jaw tightens when he laughs. The way his sleeves roll up when he's stressed. The way he never, ever looks at you the way you want him to.
"Don't stare, weirdo."
My brother's voice snaps me out of it.
I look away from the living room where he is standing—tall, broad-shouldered, leaning against the wall like he owns the place.
He's been coming over to our house for years. Since I was fifteen and awkward and constantly tripping over my own feet. Since I was "off-limits." Since I was just the kid.
Now I'm twenty-two.
Not a kid.
And yet…
"Hey, kid," he says casually when he notices me hovering near the doorway.
Kid.
The word lands like a bruise.
I force a smile. "I'm not a kid anymore."
He smirks like I've said something amusing. "Sure you're not."
My brother laughs from the couch. "She still cries at sad movies."
"I do not!"
But they're already ignoring me, slipping back into their conversation like I'm background noise.
I hate how small that makes me feel.
I hate that he doesn't see it.
I turn to leave, pretending it doesn't bother me. Pretending my heart doesn't squeeze every time he brushes past me like I'm invisible.
Until—
"Wait."
His voice stops me.
It's different this time. Lower. Slower.
I turn.
And for the first time in years, he's not looking at me like I'm his best friend's annoying little sister.
He's looking at me like he's noticing something.
Something new.
Something dangerous.
His eyes flicker—down, then back up. A pause. A shift in the air between us.
And suddenly, I'm not sure who's more surprised.
Me.
Or him.
His eyes flicker—down, then back up.
The air changes.
My brother's phone rings from the couch. He groans. "I'll take this outside."
The front door shuts behind him.
And just like that, it's only the two of us.
Silence stretches.
He clears his throat and steps forward. "You, uh… cut your hair?"
My hand automatically lifts to it. "A little."
"It suits you."
My heart stumbles.
He's never noticed things like that before.
I swallow. "You've never said that before."
His jaw tightens slightly. "You've never… looked like this before."
The words hang there. Heavy. Unfinished.
I step back instinctively.
He steps forward at the same time.
And that's when it happens.
My heel catches on the edge of the rug.
I stumble.
He moves on instinct.
His hand shoots out, wrapping around my waist to steady me.
Warm.
Firm.
Solid.
My hands grab onto his chest to balance myself.
And suddenly—
We're too close.
His fingers press into the small of my back.
My palms flatten against him.
His breath hits my cheek.
Everything stops.
His body goes rigid.
Mine does too.
For a second, neither of us moves.
His grip tightens slightly—like he forgot he's holding me.
Like he doesn't want to let go.
His eyes drop to my lips.
Just for a second.
But I see it.
And he knows I see it.
That's when he freezes.
Like he's just realized what he's doing.
What he's feeling.
Slowly—too slowly—he releases me.
Steps back.
Runs a hand through his hair.
"This is… not okay."
My chest feels tight. "Why?"
His eyes flash. Not anger. Something worse.
Conflict.
"You're my best friend's sister."
"I'm not a child."
"I know." The words come out rougher than he means them to. "That's the problem."
Silence.
The kind that burns.
His gaze softens for a fraction of a second.
And that's when I understand.
He's not unaffected.
He's fighting it.
Hard.
The front door opens.
My brother walks back in.
And just like that—
He's gone.
Back to casual. Back to safe. Back to pretending.
But I saw it.
He felt it.
And nothing will ever be the same again.