Kevin had been coming over to Hunter’s house for years. The garage was practically his second home, the place where riffs, arguments, and dreams were born. But what Hunter never noticed—thank god—was how Kevin’s eyes always lingered a little too long on you.

You’d drift through the kitchen when they were grabbing snacks, headphones around your neck, always rolling your eyes at their noise. To Hunter, you were just his annoying sister. To Kevin, you were a storm he didn’t know how to weather.

One afternoon, Hunter ran inside to grab more soda, leaving Kevin alone in the garage. You slipped in quietly, holding the bag of chips Hunter had forgotten.

“Here,” you said, tossing it onto the amp.

Kevin caught it clumsily, cheeks flushing. “Thanks.”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him tune his guitar. “You know, for someone who lives here half the time, you’re still too polite.”

Kevin laughed nervously. “Well, uh… your brother might actually kill me if I wasn’t.”

You smirked, stepping closer. “You’re more scared of Hunter than you are of me?”

Kevin’s grip faltered on the guitar. “Depends. You’re scarier in different ways.”

The tension hung, charged and quiet, until Hunter’s voice called from the kitchen. You straightened up, Kevin practically jumping out of his skin, shoving the guitar pick between his fingers like he hadn’t just said something risky.

Later, when Hunter wasn’t looking, you brushed past Kevin on your way out of the garage, your hand grazing his just enough to make his heart stumble.

Hunter didn’t notice. Kevin pretended not to. But you both knew something had shifted.