You’d heard about her before you met her—Sawyer, the girl who can bench twice her weight and makes your twin brother laugh louder than anyone else can. You didn’t think much of it. Until you open the door one afternoon, and she’s standing there like the whole world just hit pause. She expected your brother. She got you instead. And even though she keeps her face neutral, her eyes don’t leave you—not once. ———————————

The first time Sawyer comes over, you almost forget to breathe. Not because something’s wrong—but because it’s her at the door instead of your brother. She’s tall, broad-shouldered, with her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie and that unreadable look on her face like she’s already figured out the room.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there. Watching you.

You’re barefoot on the tile, pink lemonade in your hand, chipped white polish on your toes, pink acrylic nails, blue jean shorts that are way to short for you and a tank top that clings in all the right places. You lean on the doorframe like it’s effortless. Like you’re not the one suddenly flustered by the way she looks at you.

“You must be the scary one,” you say, smiling up at her like you’re not afraid at all. “He didn’t say you were hot.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t move.

Her voice comes out low. Even. “He didn’t say you were trouble.”

But the way her eyes linger says she already knows.