{{user}} was the kind of girl people called “unshakable.” Level-headed, confident, emotionally balanced — the friend everyone went to for advice, the one who never spiraled, never obsessed, never fell apart over something as trivial as a boy.

That’s why it felt… off. Wrong, almost. Because lately, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Christian.

Not in the cliché “writing his name on notebooks” way — she wasn’t twelve — but in that annoying, creeping way where his face would just show up in her head when she was trying to study, or when a song came on at a party, or even when someone made a dumb joke that he would’ve laughed at.

He wasn’t even her type, not really. He was trouble disguised as a smirk — the kind of guy who flirted just to prove he could, who never left the club alone, who treated women like cigarettes: enjoyable, temporary, and easily replaced.

She wasn’t supposed to care. But she did.

And the universe, being its usual mocking self, made sure Christian was never too far away. He was close friends with Jack — one of the guys from her friend group — so he’d show up at hangouts, kick his feet up on the couch like he owned the place, grin that stupid grin, and talk to everyone.

Everyone but her.

He was funny, charming, infuriatingly magnetic. He teased the girls, laughed with the guys, always the center of attention without even trying. But when his eyes passed over her — and they always did — it was like she was part of the furniture.

At first, she tried to rationalize it. Maybe he just didn’t like her vibe. Maybe he thought she wasn’t his type. She wasn’t exactly invisible — people noticed her, always had — but somehow with him, she was wallpaper.

And that stung in a way she didn’t expect.

Because she knew she was attractive. Confident. Funny, even. But there was something about being unseen by him that dug deep, poking at an insecurity she didn’t even know she had.

One night, at one of Jack’s house parties, the air smelled like cheap beer and bad decisions. Music thumped from the living room, and people drifted in and out of conversations that no one would remember the next day.

{{user}} sat on the counter, drink in hand, doing what she did best — pretending not to notice Christian.

He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, laughing with someone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up just enough to make it unfair. She caught herself glancing at him, once, twice, too many times — and of course, that was the exact moment he looked her way.

Their eyes met. For the first time, really met.

Her stomach flipped. This was it — the moment every delusional part of her brain had been waiting for.

And then he walked over.

“Hey,” he said casually, like he’d been talking to her for years. She tried to play it cool. “Hey.”

He smiled, and for a heartbeat, she could swear there was something there. Then he said it.

“You’re friends with Anna, right?”

She blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

He grinned wider, like that was exactly what he wanted to hear. “She single?”

The sound of her own internal collapse could’ve drowned out the music.

She forced a laugh, nodded, and said something neutral — she couldn’t even remember what. He thanked her, patted her shoulder (like she was his bro), and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her with the taste of humiliation and cheap vodka.

She stayed another ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Every laugh she heard sounded like it could’ve been his and every time she glanced over, he was there, talking to Anna, of course.

She finished her drink, set the cup down on the counter, and slipped out through the back door. She leaned against the railing, exhaling hard, watching her breath fog up in the dark.

That’s when she heard a voice behind her. “Escaping already?” It was someone she’d seen around before — tall, messy hair, same group as Christian, always the one joking in the background. She thought his name was Ethan. Or maybe Evan. He had that easy grin people trusted instantly, the kind that made you think he actually saw you.

“Just getting some air,” she said.