Brooklyn and the Upper East Side were worlds apart — but somehow, you and Jenny kept finding yourselves caught in between.

You’d met Nate through one of those random coincidences the city loved to throw at people. He’d come by the Humphrey loft to return something Dan had borrowed, and the second he smiled at you — that easy, golden, Archibald smile — you understood why every rumor about him always sounded half like a confession.

Jenny noticed him too.

At first, it was innocent. She teased you for blushing when Nate texted, and you teased her right back for spending half an hour getting ready “just to hang out.” But soon, the teasing turned quieter. Longer silences. Stolen glances.

The three of you started spending time together — late walks through Central Park, coffee runs in Brooklyn, quiet movie nights in the loft. Nate was effortless with both of you. He listened, he joked, he made you feel seen.

And maybe that was the problem.

Jenny would light up when he complimented her designs. You’d melt when he brushed his hand against yours, “accidentally.” Every gesture felt loaded, every word a question neither of you wanted to ask.

One night, you and Jenny ended up on the roof of the loft — the city glowing beneath you, the air thick with things unsaid.

Jenny hugged her knees, avoiding your eyes. “You like him, don’t you?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

She nodded slowly. “Me too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t angry — it was heavy. Sad. Like you both knew that no matter what happened, something between you would change.

Jenny gave a small laugh, but her eyes were glassy. “Figures. The one guy who makes me feel like I don’t have to pretend… and you fall for him too.”

“Jen…” you whispered.

She looked at you then, raw and honest. “If he picks you, don’t apologize. Just… don’t lie to me about it.”