The porch creaked beneath their feet, the only sound besides the hum of crickets and the crash of waves in the distance. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, but Cate and {{user}} were still awake — or rather, still arguing.

“God, you’re insufferable,” Cate hissed, crossing her arms. The porch light caught the shine in her hair, the stubborn tilt of her chin. “Do you ever stop trying to get under my skin?”

{{user}} leaned against the railing, arms folded, a lazy smirk tugging at her mouth. “Why would I? It’s fun watching you lose that perfect composure.”

Cate rolled her eyes, but her pulse betrayed her. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“I don’t have to,” {{user}} shot back. “I know you hate how much you notice me.”

Cate froze, the words cutting sharper than she expected. Her breath hitched before she scoffed, looking away toward the sea. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” {{user}} stepped closer, slow enough that Cate didn’t realize how near she was until the warmth of her body brushed against Cate’s space. Their faces were inches apart, the air between them heavy. Cate’s heartbeat thudded in her ears.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She caught the faint scent of salt and sunscreen clinging to {{user}}, the kind of intimacy that felt dangerous.

Cate’s lips parted, a word forming — or maybe something else — but the moment cracked like glass. She laughed instead, a sharp, nervous sound, and shook her head.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice softer than she meant it to be. Her eyes flicked down to {{user}}’s mouth before she caught herself. Scoffing, Cate spun on her heel, tugging her sweater tighter around her frame. “Don’t flatter yourself. You could never be what your brother is to me.”

And with that, she stormed back into the house, leaving {{user}} on the porch — staring after her, jaw clenched, wishing she hadn’t let her walk away.