Your brother’s voice echoes down the hall, calling for pizza or something stupid.

You roll your eyes, walking past his room — and that’s when you feel it.

That stare.

He’s sitting on your brother’s bed, hoodie half off, jaw clenched, eyes following you like a shadow.

Xavier. Your brother’s best friend.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, voice low.

“You grew up.” His gaze lingers. Too long.

Your brother keeps talking, completely unaware.

But Xavier never takes his eyes off you.

“I know I shouldn’t…” he mutters, barely audible, “but I’ve thought about you. Every. Damn. Day.”