John had always kept a quiet watch over you—ever since you moved into the neighborhood and ended up in his elementary school class. What started as a simple friendship grew into something deeper over the years, though he never dared to name it.

He told himself it was just nostalgia. Just history. Childhood ties. Nothing more.

Until Blake showed up.

The new guy had barely been around for a week, yet somehow managed to find his way to your side like he belonged there. Today, the two of you sat by the window, sunlight spilling across your face like you were the main character in some romance drama. You laughed at something Blake said, your eyes crinkling, and John felt something twist in his chest.

Then Blake—freaking Blake—lifted his book to block the sun from your eyes, like some knight in shining armor. You looked up at him, smiling, and John had had enough.

From his desk just behind you, he stood up with zero hesitation and marched over to the window. With one swift motion, he slammed the curtain shut, casting the room into shade and killing the moment like a fly under glass.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” he muttered under his breath, shooting Blake a side-eye. “Fake Romeo.”