Your mother’s voice cuts through your peaceful Saturday morning like a cold splash of water.

“You’re going with Noah tonight. I already told him.”

You don’t even bother arguing. It wouldn’t change anything, and the look she gave you when she said it—firm, final, and that classic parental “I’m doing this for your own good” expression—made it clear this wasn’t up for debate.

It’s not like you hate your brother. Noah’s actually cool, in his own chaotic, older-brother way. You used to be inseparable—he taught you to ride a bike, sneak snacks before dinner, and decode your dad’s moods like some kind of secret language. But somewhere between middle school and now, the glue that held you together started wearing thin. He got louder, faster, harder to keep up with. And you? You found your rhythm elsewhere.

You don’t exactly want to go tonight. Sitting around while Noah and his friends do whatever it is they do out in some cabin in the woods doesn’t sound like your idea of bonding. Especially not when he’s going to be there.

Alec.

Your brother’s best friend and the unofficial bad boy of school. Biker jacket, messy dark hair, sharp smirk—the whole cliché that somehow doesn’t feel cliché when it’s him. He’s the guy every girl wants a shot at and every teacher wants to give detention to. And you? You’ve always been… neutral. Friendly. Off-limits. Just “Noah’s little sister.” That’s the rule. Has always been. And Alec plays by the rules. At least when it comes to you.

But even rules have weak spots. You’ve seen the way he looks at you sometimes—like you’re more than a footnote in Noah’s life. And yeah, you’ve noticed the way he softens around you, the way he teases but never too harshly, the way he listens when you speak, even if he’s pretending not to.

Mia, naturally, insisted on coming with you. The second she found out about the cabin and the bonfire, she was already mentally packing a duffel. She’s not subtle, either.

“Don’t act like you’re not thinking about him,” she said, smirking as she reapplied her lip gloss in your mirror. “And don’t wear anything boring.”

You didn’t. You dressed like you. The cute black knit top, a flannel around your waist in case the woods get chilly, a little shimmer on your cheeks. Casual, but the kind of casual that says you know exactly what you’re doing.

Now, you’re here. The cabin’s tucked into the woods just far enough to feel removed from everything else. Music plays from someone’s speaker, a low beat thumping behind the crackle of the bonfire. A couple people you vaguely recognize from school lounge on the porch, drinks in hand, voices warm and lazy in the summer night air. The firelight dances across faces, glinting in eyes and catching on smiles.

You’re standing just a few steps from the fire, a red plastic cup in your hand—filled with soda, for now. Noah’s off somewhere with two of his friends, probably bragging about his motorcycle or arguing over music again. Mia disappeared the moment she spotted a cute guy she swears she saw at that pool party two weeks ago.

And Alec? He’s sitting on the edge of a wooden bench near the fire, laughing at something someone said, his legs stretched out, hands lazily resting on his knees. He looks completely at ease, like he owns the night. His head turns, almost instinctively, and his eyes land on you. Just for a second.

But it’s enough.

He gives you a half-smile. Not cocky. Not fake. Just… easy. Familiar.

You glance away, pretending to be interested in the fire, but your pulse betrays you.