You and Diego were… something. A couple? Friends? Not even you knew what to call it.

You’d known each other forever—your moms were best friends, so sleepovers, shared birthdays, and weekend hangouts were basically mandatory since childhood. You were the kind of kids who splashed around naked in an inflatable pool without a care in the world.

But then you grew up. Your body changed, his voice dropped. You got your first period. He started growing a mustache. And suddenly, you weren’t just “kids” anymore.

That’s when you started seeing him differently. One day, heart pounding, you told him how you felt. You’d never seen anyone turn so red in your life—it was almost comical.

That was the beginning. Or… not really. Because Diego? He wasn’t great at emotions. He never said the right thing. He couldn’t hold your hand, couldn’t hug you, couldn’t even look you in the eyes when you were being sweet.

He called you names. Teased you. Acted indifferent. But you thought it was adorable.

What you didn’t know was that every time he walked away from one of your moments, he had to collect himself.

Like that one afternoon—you came running in, holding up a little drawing.

“Baby, look! I made this for you!” you grinned, beaming

He barely looked at it, rolled his eyes, and muttered “What a waste of time…” before turning away and heading for the bathroom.

But the second the door clicked shut, he leaned back, clutched his chest, and whispered, face beet red “God, she’s so damn cute.”

Then he came back out like nothing happened—expression cold, voice calm. The same Diego everyone knew