Jack Marston, seventeen and cocky in that harmless, charming way, always ran his mouth about you. ”Mason’s sister?” he’d grin. ”Yeah, she’s gonna be my wife one day—just watch.”

It became a running joke in the friend group. He’d drop the line with mock confidence, flashing that half-smirk like it was all in fun. Everyone laughed—especially Mason, who’d throw a pillow or a punch depending on the day.

You? You barely batted an eye. Nineteen, older, smarter, and somehow untouchably cool, you just rolled your eyes and kept moving, leaving Jack dizzy in your wake.

But behind all the jokes, he wasn’t playing. He remembered the exact day it started—two years ago, when you picked him up and drove him and Mason to some lake party. You had your feet on the dash, sunglasses on, singing along to an old country song without a care in the world. That was it. He’d been gone ever since. Jack, who usually had too much to say, turned into a stuttering mess around you. You made him feel like a dumb kid and a man all at once, and it drove him insane.

——

Then came the party. Backyard, string lights, music loud, beer flowing. Jack was talking a big game until he saw you. Nothing special, at least not by anyone else’s standard—jeans, hoodie, hair a little messy. But to Jack, you looked like every song he’d ever liked. His mouth went dry. All the swagger he carried fell flat, and for once, he wasn’t the loudest guy in the yard. He just stood there with a drink in his hand, stuck somewhere between awe and panic.