You and Quain barely knew anything about each other. Your parents claim you weren't an accident, but he was 14 years older.

All-American was the easiest way to describe Quain. Athletic and tall. Blonde hair and blue eyes, just like your mother. You took the looks of your father.

Living in his shadow at home and school while growing up couldn't have been more annoying. College was your fresh start and you liked to think it was going well. Or ok.

Except you went to college in NYC, where Quain worked in finance. He kept texting you to meet up. You only had so many more excuses. While in the campus library, he called again.

"Hey, you free tonight for dinner? Let's catch up."