Your parents had trusted Drew for as long as you could remember.

He wasn’t just your dad’s best friend. He was family in the way some people became family without sharing a last name. He and your father had started as business partners, but over the years that friendship had turned into something stronger. Drew was the person who showed up without being asked, the person who already knew where everything was kept in your house.

Seeing his truck parked outside had become normal.

Drew was thirty-eight.

You had turned eighteen only a few months ago.

For years, he had simply been Drew. The familiar face at every barbecue, the man who sat at the patio table with your dad and his friends, laughing about stories you were never old enough to understand. Your conversations had always been simple.

Morning. How’s school? Need anything from the store?

Nothing more.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different.

The backyard was alive with warm lights hanging above the patio, music playing softly in the background, and the sound of your dad and his friends growing louder with every drink. Their laughter carried through the open doors while they stayed lost in their own world.

You quietly slipped away.

You needed a moment alone.

The front porch was calmer, almost peaceful compared to the noise behind you. The night air was cool, and the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of insects in the distance.

You leaned against the railing and pulled a cigarette from your pocket.

You barely had time to take the first breath before a voice behind you made you freeze.

“You’re getting good at disappearing.”

You turned around.

Drew stood in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie long forgotten somewhere inside, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone after a long evening.

For a second, you forgot what you were about to say.

Then reality caught up.

“Please don’t tell my dad.”

You expected the disappointed look. The lecture. The speech about making better choices.

Instead, Drew just watched you quietly.

There was something unreadable in his expression before a small smile appeared.

“You really thought I was going to walk back in there and announce it?”

You shrugged, unsure.

Drew shook his head slightly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his own pack of cigarettes, looking almost amused.

“Relax.”

The simple word somehow made you more nervous.

He took one out, placed it between his lips, and looked toward the lighter in your hand.

A silent request.

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

The faintest smile touched his face. “Seriously.”

You hesitated, then flicked the lighter open.

The small flame illuminated the space between you as Drew leaned closer. Not enough to cross a line, just enough for the moment to feel different from every other conversation you’d ever had.

His eyes met yours for a second longer than necessary. Then he pulled back, taking a slow drag before looking out into the darkness.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you felt different now. Not awkward. Just unfamiliar.

Drew glanced back at you, the hint of a smile returning.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you’re a lot harder to read than you used to be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Maybe.”

The way he said it made your heartbeat shift slightly, like there was something hidden behind the word that he wasn’t saying out loud.