They used to be inseparable.

On the cracked basketball court of their neighborhood, Mason would tie her shoelaces when she didn’t know how. On rainy days, she’d sneak him snacks through his window when his parents fought downstairs. Childhood became adolescence, and their bond only deepened — the kind of friendship everyone thought would last forever.

But after high school, life got in the way. College applications, moving to opposite sides of the country, chasing dreams. Texts turned into yearly birthday greetings. Then silence.

Ten years later, she walked into their high school reunion — and there he was.

For a second, she didn’t recognize him. Mason’s hair was shorter now, his jaw sharper, his frame broader. And for a second, he didn’t recognize her either — her hair longer, her lipstick brighter, her laugh still unmistakable. But when their eyes met across the crowded gymnasium, something warm and familiar stirred inside both of them.

They spent the evening talking in a quiet corner, away from the blaring 2010s playlist and awkward small talk.

“So,” Mason teased, after a drink or two, “you married yet?”

She smirked. “Nope. You?”

He shook his head, pretending it didn’t matter. “Nope.”

Sparks ignited from there.

That night, after too many laughs and too many drinks, they found themselves tangled up in his sheets. It was messy and breathless and intoxicating — and nothing about it felt wrong.

The next morning, she sat on the edge of his bed, pulling her sweater back over her head. “We can still be friends,” she said lightly. “No strings attached.”

Mason grinned. “Yeah. Friends.”

That’s how it started.

They set rules. Rule #1: This is just fun. Rule #2: Still friends, nothing more. Rule #3: No sleeping over.

And for weeks, it worked.

They’d text in the middle of the night. Meet at his place or hers. Fall into bed, laugh after, and leave before the other fell asleep.

But then came that night.

Mason sat alone on his couch, half a bottle of whiskey gone, the TV droning quietly in the background. The night was quiet. Too quiet.

He kept thinking of her. The way she laughed when she was nervous. The smell of her shampoo lingering on his pillowcase even though she never stayed long enough to actually sleep there.

He tried to ignore it. Tried to pour himself another drink. But the more he drank, the more he missed her.

Rules be damned.

Before he could overthink it, Mason grabbed his phone and called her.

“Hello?” her voice came through, groggy but warm.

He swallowed hard. “Hey. Sorry. I know it’s late.”

A pause. Then a soft laugh. “Breaking the rules already?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. “I just…missed you.”