At school, everyone assumed Mateo Rivera liked Camila. It made sense — she laughed the loudest at his jokes, saved him a seat at lunch, and talked about him constantly to her best friend… you.

You listened because that’s what best friends do. Even when your stomach twisted a little hearing his name. Even when you secretly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you — not her.

Mateo wasn’t flashy or loud. He was calm, thoughtful. The type who noticed when you braided your hair differently or when you seemed tired. And lately, he’d been finding excuses to talk to you more — study sessions, walking to class together, random conversations that somehow turned deep.

Still, he never crossed a line. Because he knew Camila liked him.

And you knew it too.