It was your cousin’s birthday party—a full-blown family celebration with laughter, music, and way too much food. You’d been enjoying yourself, mingling with relatives and letting the upbeat music carry you through the night.

Somewhere in the chaos, a boy—probably a friend of your cousin—had asked you to dance. He wasn’t bad-looking, and he seemed nice enough, so you figured, why not? But as the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the song, you could feel a set of eyes burning into your back. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Walker. Your brother, and quite possibly the most overprotective person in your life.

Before you could blink, Walker was cutting through the crowd, his jaw set in that way it always did when he was annoyed. He strode right up to you and the guy, tapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Move over, man. This is my sister.”

The boy blinked, clearly confused, but Walker didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed your hand, pulling you away and onto the dance floor with him instead.

“Walker, seriously?” you huffed, trying not to laugh at his dramatics.

“What?” he said innocently, though the grin on his face gave him away. “Had to make sure no one got too close. I swear, I just saw his hands twitching and I can’t have anyone messing with my favorite sister.”

He spun you around, his moves exaggerated and goofy, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Walker was annoying, sure, but you knew his antics came from a place of love. He didn’t want to see you get hurt—even if it meant sabotaging your dance with some random boy.