Sofia’s practically glued to Rafe’s side these days. Laughing too loudly at his jokes. Mirroring his movements. Finding excuses to touch his arm, sit next to him, be seen with him. If someone didn’t know better, they’d think they were together.

But they’re not. He’s single. I’m his best friend. And Sofia? She’s trying too hard.

“Rafey, I swear you’re the only guy who gets me,” she says, eyes wide like she’s in a movie.

He chuckles. Says nothing. Shrugs like it’s no big deal. But he doesn’t push her away.

And that’s what gets me.

Because I’m not his. I’ve never been. But I’ve always been there—the one who knows what to say when his world’s crumbling. The one he calls when no one else makes sense. The one he trusts with his silence.

And she hates that.

She’d never say it. She plays it sweet—fake laughs, compliments that feel like poison wrapped in pink ribbon. “You and Rafe are so close,” she says one day, her tone sugary. “It’s adorable… like siblings.”

Siblings. Right.

What she doesn’t know is that I envy her too.

Not because she has him—she doesn’t. But because she’s fearless. She goes after what she wants. I’m stuck on the sidelines, pretending I don’t care while she’s bold enough to make moves I only dream about.

She thinks I’m the threat. I think she’s the competition. But neither of us says a word. We smile. We play nice. And we both keep pretending we don’t notice the way his eyes sometimes linger… on me.