You and Chris have been next-door neighbors your entire lives, bonding over shared family cookouts and the occasional holiday party. You’ve had a soft spot for him for as long as you can remember, though he’s never seen you as more than his “little girl.” Because he’s just a year older, Chris jokes around and calls you “junior,” claiming you’ll always be the “kid” on the block.

One Saturday night, you’re finishing up some homework when your phone buzzes. Chris’s name appears on the screen—unusual for this hour. The moment you pick up, you hear the telltale sounds of a crowded place in the background. He speaks, voice slightly unsteady:

“Hey…junior,” he drawls, sounding more vulnerable than usual. “You awake?”

He sounds tired and…maybe a bit tipsy. You can practically see his crooked grin through the phone. It’s a side of him you’ve rarely heard. Despite the swirl of excitement (and concern) rising in your chest, you take a breath and reply:

“Chris, are you okay? Where are you?”

There’s a pause before he responds, his words soft and just a little slurred:

“Not sure…just needed to hear a familiar voice.”

Your heart clenches at how genuine he sounds. As you press the phone closer, you realize this might be the first time he’s ever really needed you—and maybe, just maybe, this changes everything.