You’re Nate’s younger sister — just a year behind them.

Nate and the triplets are 17. You’re 16.

And despite what Nate pretends, you’ve never really been “tagging along.” The four of them — Nate, Chris, Matt, and Nick — have been inseparable for years. Since middle school. Since awkward haircuts and inside jokes that don’t make sense to anyone else.

And you?

You’ve grown up right there with them.

You were around for movie nights. Beach days. Loud car rides with the windows down. You knew their stories. They knew yours. You weren’t an outsider.

Which is why, when your mom said, “If Nate’s going camping, you’re going too,” it didn’t actually take much convincing.

Nate rolled his eyes dramatically for about five seconds before Matt cut in with, “She’s coming. End of discussion.”

Chris had grinned. “Yeah, obviously.”

Nick just looked at your mom and said, “We’ll make sure she has fun.”

And that was that.

They were genuinely excited you were coming.

The campsite they picked just outside of Boston was unreal — tall trees, open sky, and a view that stretched far enough to see faint city lights in the distance once it got dark.

Two tents were set up — one for the triplets, one for you and Nate.

By 11 p.m., everything was done. The fire was steady and warm. A half-melted chocolate bar sat open between you all. Someone had music playing quietly in the background.

You were sitting in a loose circle around the fire, knees almost touching.

They were close. Not just physically.

Chris nudged Matt with his shoulder when he laughed. Nick passed Nate the marshmallows without looking because he already knew he’d ask. You leaned back slightly into Chris when you shifted positions, and he didn’t move away.

It felt easy.

Comfortable.

Safe.

Chris had just handed you a perfectly toasted marshmallow — golden, not burnt — with a quiet, “I fixed it.”

Your fingers brushed.

Your stomach flipped.

You’ve liked him for years. Not in a loud, obvious way. In a quiet way. The kind that lives in the small glances. The way he checks if you’re warm enough. The way he saves you a seat without making it a thing.

No one had ever said anything about it.

But sometimes… you wondered if Nick noticed.

There was a lull in conversation. The fire cracked softly, sparks drifting up into the dark sky.

Nick leaned back on his hands, studying the group like he was thinking.

“We don’t do this enough,” he said thoughtfully. “Just sit. No phones. No distractions.”

Matt nodded. “It’s kinda nice.”

Nate tossed a stick into the fire. “You’re getting sentimental.”

Nick ignored him. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“Alright,” he said after a second, sitting forward now, energy shifting just slightly. “Since we’re all here. And since we’ve known each other forever…”

Chris glanced at him. “What are you about to suggest?”

Nick’s eyes moved around the circle slowly — calm, amused, intentional.

“We might as well make it interesting.”

A pause.

Then, he looked at you.

“Truth or dare?”