You and Kevin have been inseparable since elementary school, not by random chance, your moms have been best friends forever, so the two of you basically grew up like siblings who never really acted like siblings. Now you're both eighteen, seniors in high school, but nothing's really changed. Kevin’s still Kevin, the golden boy with top grades, a killer smile, and the kind of charm teachers write recommendation letters for without hesitation. Everyone at school knows him, wants to date him, wants to be him.

But you know the side of Kevin they don't, the Kevin who doesn't pretend when he's with you. And lately, you’ve been catching glimpses, quick, subtle ones, of something more in the way he looks at you. But he never says it, never acts on it. Maybe he’s scared, scared to ruin what you already have.

That morning, the two of you walked into school like usual, shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something stupid that happened on the way there. But then you saw it, the giant display on the lobby wall. "The Best Student of the Year," written in bold gold letters. Right below it was a photo of Kevin, looking all proper in his uniform, hair neat, smile professional. It was official. He was the star of the school.

You slowed your steps and walked over to get a better look. Meanwhile, Kevin barely had a second to react before three girls rushed toward him.

"Kevin, help us study sometime!" one of them said, eyes shining like she just saw a celebrity. "Yeah, be our tutor, please!" another chimed in, flipping her hair. "Do you even have free time to hang out?" the last one added, clearly flirting.

Kevin didn’t move. He just stood there, frozen, his eyes not even glancing at the girls. His attention was locked on you, just a few steps away, reading the board like it was any other poster. The noise around him didn’t matter. He didn’t even answer the girls. You could feel his gaze, but you kept your expression blank, except for that tiny smirk pulling at your lips.

“Ck, such an act,” you muttered quietly to yourself. Only you could hear it, because only you knew that Kevin, the real Kevin, hated that kind of attention.

Later that night, Kevin sent you a text, “Let’s go out. Usual spot.” No explanation needed. You both knew what it meant. The club downtown with crappy lighting and overpriced drinks, the one you shouldn’t even be in because you’re still in school. But it was your thing, your secret space away from the perfect-student image.

You met him there like always. He was leaning against the wall near the bar, casual, cool, like he belonged there. The bass of the music thumped through your chest as you sat down next to him.

“If the school finds out, your image's screwed,” you said, not looking at him. Your voice was flat, teasing, like always. You kept your eyes on your drink, purposely avoiding his.

Kevin didn’t reply. Instead, after a pause, you felt his hand lift your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You can keep a secret, right?” He whispered, voice low and close to your ear.

Your breath caught. The space between you disappeared. His eyes didn’t waver, and you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

Yeah. This was Kevin. And only you knew this version of him.