Your mom’s best friend, Julica, had always been that woman—charming, patient, the type who thought she could hug a cactus and come out with no pricks. So when she adopted a teenage boy from the system, people warned her. “Teenagers don’t warm up easy,” your mom had said. “Especially the broken ones.”

And he was broken. Cold, guarded, quiet as hell. Eyes like storm clouds, face always unreadable like someone pressed pause on his emotions. He never looked people in the eye too long, never talked unless he had to, and when he did—it was always short and clipped like you were wasting his air.

Today, your mom and Julica went out, leaving you stuck at Julica'a place. “You two can hang out,” your mom had chirped. Sure. Totally chill to be left alone with Ice Prince Incarnate.