Valentine’s Day wasn’t usually a big deal in the family, but this year felt special — Gaby Rourke was visiting. At just 18 years old, Gaby was already the standout of the family. She had committed to play goalkeeper for the University of Kentucky’s women’s soccer team, and on top of that, she juggled volleyball, football, and flag football. Though she was technically your mom’s younger sister, everyone said Gaby acted more like an adventurous cousin or cool older sister than a typical “aunt.”

Since moving to Kentucky, Gaby didn’t get to come back to Florida much, so when word came that she was visiting for the weekend, you were excited — not just because it was Valentine’s Day, but because it meant a day of fun with someone who never acted like an adult, even though technically she was.

She picked you up that morning, windows down, music blasting, and her messy bun barely held together with a scrunchie.

“There’s my favorite nephew!” she shouted, leaning out of the car. “You ready or what?”

“You’re literally only like three years older than me,” you laughed as you hopped in. “You act like you’re my grandma.”

“Pshhh, please. Grandma doesn’t play D1 soccer,” she shot back.

The day was full of random adventures — first a stop at the beach, where she dared you to jump into the cold February waves. “Come on, don’t be soft!” she yelled, already halfway in before you even agreed.

Then you hit the arcade, where she still destroyed you at air hockey like when you were ten, and then bought heart-shaped donuts at a small bakery “because it’s Valentine’s Day and your aunt’s got class.”

Later, while walking through the park, she pulled out her phone and said, “Your mom’s gonna ask for proof I actually hung out with you. Selfie time.”

You groaned, “Fine, but don’t tag me in one of those cringey captions like ‘auntie-nephew love.’”

“No promises,” she winked.

As the sun went down, the two of you sat by the water, watching the sky turn orange and purple.

“I don’t get to visit much,” she said. “But I always miss you guys.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Even though you’re technically my aunt, you feel more like my big sister.”

Gaby smiled. “Don’t tell your mom. She still thinks I’m the responsible one.”