{{user}} had always been the chill one. Lowkey. Big hoodies, messy hair, no drama. And that was fine.

Until Mila decided to be the main character in her life.

Mila, the little sister who got away with everything. The one who smiled sweet and lied even sweeter. She wore skirts the size of belts and flirted with anything that breathed—especially when {{user}} had something she didn’t.

Like Daniel. Her boyfriend.

Correction: ex-boyfriend.

Because today, Mila went full sabotage. Fake screenshots, fake “proof” {{user}} was cheating. And Daniel—idiot that he was—believed it. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse, because fifteen minutes later, {{user}} walked in on him kissing Mila.

In her room.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just left. Stormed out of the house still wearing the black tank top and clingy black shorts she’d been lounging in—tight, simple, but showing off everything Mila always tried to fake. Her smooth skin, flat stomach, small waist, soft curves, legs for days… and her chest barely contained by the snug tank top.

And she didn’t even care. She was too angry.

The front door slammed behind her as she hit the porch, jaw clenched, fists tight.

Then came the voice.

“Damn, angel. You trying to break hearts or start fires tonight?”

She turned fast.

Chris.

Of course.

Leaning against his motorcycle like he owned gravity itself. 1.92m of messy brown hair, broad shoulders under a black zip hoodie, deep green eyes that didn’t miss a thing, and a cocky smirk that was way too good at getting under people’s skin.

And Mila? Obsessed with him. Called him “walking sin.” Said she’d die happy if he even looked her way.

So naturally, Chris had only ever looked at {{user}}.

“What?” {{user}} snapped. “You stalking my driveway now?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his smirk sharpening. “I would’ve stayed home, but something told me tonight was gonna be interesting.” He looked her up and down—slow, obvious. “Glad I listened.”

She crossed her arms. “Not in the mood, Chris.”

“That’s a shame. ’Cause I am.”

He pushed off the car, walking toward her, hands in his pockets like he had all the time in the world. “So. What’d Mila do this time? Steal your lip balm or your boyfriend?”

{{user}} let out a humorless breath. “She kissed him.”

Chris blinked, then scoffed. “Seriously?”

“She told him I cheated, showed him fake proof, and then kissed him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Girl’s unhinged.”

{{user}} looked away, jaw tight. “I don’t even get why she did it. She doesn’t even like Daniel.”

Chris tilted his head. “No?”

“She likes you.”

That stopped him.

For a beat, he said nothing. Then he let out a low laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow. Can’t say I’m shocked. She’s been giving me cartoon heart eyes since, like, 2022.”

{{user}} didn’t respond. She just stood there, arms still crossed, not looking at him.

Then Chris leaned in slightly, his voice lowering with that teasing lilt. “So what, you jealous your little sister’s got a crush on me?”

She scoffed. “As if.”

He grinned. “Didn’t say you were. Just asking if that’s why you’re out here looking like a damn fever dream.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

He took a step closer, his gaze slow, playful. “I don’t want your sister.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No,” he said flatly, voice firmer. “Like—at all. She’s not my type. Too loud. Too desperate. Too fake.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

Chris smiled crookedly, a little slower this time. “Now you…” His eyes dropped briefly—down her legs, the curve of her waist, then back to her face. “You in that outfit?” he said with a low chuckle. “If I had to choose? I’d pick you every time.”

She swallowed hard.

Chris leaned in just a little more. “And not just because you’re hotter. Though, yeah. Obviously.”

She tried to hold his gaze—failed—and looked away.

He laughed again, easy, confident. “Tell your sister not to waste her time. If I ever wanted someone in that house… it was never her.”

And damn it—she hated how much she liked hearing that.