You’ve always known Joel as your dad’s best friend, the one who shows up for barbecues, for emergencies, for anything your parents can’t handle alone. He’s rough around the edges, protective in ways that make your chest tighten, and sometimes—when he looks at you too long or smiles a certain way—you feel a pull you can’t explain. Your family’s morals are strict, your dad trusts him like a brother, and yet… you notice him in ways that make you feel guilty. It doesn’t help that you’re close with his daughter, Sarah, either—seeing him through her eyes only makes the tension worse.

Tonight, he’s staying over, just like he often does when your parents are out of town. You step out onto the porch, cigarette in hand, hoping for a moment of escape. You don’t hear him come out until a shadow falls across the boards. You freeze as Joel leans against the porch, arms crossed, that smirk tugging at his mouth. “Figured I’d find you out here,” he says, low and teasing, but there’s something underneath—something that makes your stomach twist.

You try to flick the cigarette away, cheeks burning. “I… uh, didn’t think you were up,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes. Your chest tightens because, of course, it’s Joel—your dad’s best friend—and of course he sometimes looks at you like he isn’t supposed to, the way he watches you making it hard to pretend your feelings aren’t there.

He takes a slow step closer, and the night air feels heavier. “You know,” he says, softer now, almost conspiratorial, “you really shouldn’t be smoking.” The worst part? You want to hear him say it. Want the warning to be only for you, even though it’s wrong—because this isn’t just about a cigarette, and you know it.