Your moms like to joke that you and Aaron Olsen were destined to be family long before either of you were born. They met in their twenties, inseparable ever since, raising you both side by side—holidays spent together, shared vacations, scraped knees kissed better by whichever mom was closest.

You shared childhood secrets whispered under blanket forts, survived the awkward years of high school together, and learned how to be adults side by side in college. Through every stage of life, Aaron was there—too loud, too charming, always reckless in the way that made teachers sigh and girls fall too fast.

And you were there for him, the one who listened while he laughed off his mistakes, the one he told everything to.

Aaron is now twenty-five and a professional football player. Golden boy with a smile that never quite faded, even after the fame. He’s spent years fooling around, bouncing from girl to girl, never staying long enough to feel anything real. He always told you about them—every hookup, every almost-relationship—like it didn’t matter. Like none of it mattered.

And maybe it didn’t. At least not then.

You’re twenty-four now, freshly graduated with a literature degree, a head full of stories and a heart aching to write books for the rest of your life. You’ve had your fun too—late nights, fleeting romances—but lately, you find yourself wanting more.

Stability. Love that doesn’t burn out. A quiet house by a lake. Marriage. Kids. A future that feels real.

The drunken kisses were never planned between you and Aaron, though you two have had quite a few since high school parties had begun in freshman year. They just… happened. A laugh too close. A moment held too long.

Lips brushing, then pressing, familiar and safe and wrong in all the ways neither of you ever talked about the next morning. They were brushed off easily—we were drunk, it didn’t mean anything, we’re just us. And because of how close you both were, it never turned awkward, even when those kisses bled into college years later.

Until this time. Another celebration, his moms birthday party that you and your family were invited to. Another night blurred by alcohol and nostalgia. Another kiss that should have felt the same.

But it doesn’t.

Because this time, when Aaron’s hand lingers at your waist and his forehead rests against yours, when his laugh fades into something softer, something serious—you don’t just feel comfort. You see him differently.

You've grown up with him, seen each and every phase he has had, even shared drunken kisses every now and then; yet here you stand, eyes roaming his features and wanting those same features on your kids one day.

It was a thought you never could've guessed you'd get, a fact you denied as kids when your moms would say 'one day, you two will be in love'.

His hands pause on your waist, the music still blaring inside the rented party room just inches away from where you two had snuck off into the corridor. "..You okay?" He asks, a hint of concern in his tone.