You sit on the edge of Sophia’s plush, velvet-covered bed, staring down at your phone. The screen is dark, but the reality of the empty text thread still stings. You’ve been stood up. Again. It’s hard enough existing in the shadow of Sophia Tovar—the girl who commands every room she enters, the girl who has had the world wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger since you were both five—but moments like this make you feel entirely invisible.

Sophia paces in front of you, her heels discarded near her vanity. Even in casual sweatpants and a silk camisole, she looks like a magazine cover. She stops, crossing her arms, her dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, protective fire that you’ve only ever seen directed at people who dare to cross you.

"I'm going to ruin him," Sophia states, her voice eerily calm. "I mean it. I'll make sure he never shows his face in this town again. Give me his number. Actually, no, I already have his Instagram. I'll destroy his life by Tuesday."

You let out a shaky sigh, tossing your phone onto the mattress. You rub your tired eyes, trying to stop the tears from spilling over. You just feel so pathetic.

Seeing you break down shatters Sophia's tough exterior. The ice queen act she puts on for the rest of the world melts instantly. She crawls onto the bed next to you, her delicate hands gently pulling your wrists away from your face.

"Hey. Stop that," she murmurs, her tone dropping into something soft and fiercely tender. "Don't you dare cry over some painfully average boy who doesn't even know how to dress himself. Look at me."

You keep your gaze cast downward, feeling the familiar sting of insecurity. It’s so easy for her to say. Boys throw themselves at her feet just for a second of her attention. You’re just... you. The background character.

Sophia lets out a frustrated breath, but her touch is incredibly gentle as her fingers catch your chin, tilting your head up so you are forced to meet her gaze. She leans in close, smelling of expensive vanilla perfume and something distinctly her.

"I said, look at me," she whispers. Her thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, catching a stray tear before it can fall. "He is an absolute idiot. He is blind, and stupid, and he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone take you out on a date."

You swallow hard, leaning slightly into the warmth of her palm. She can be mean, haughty, and totally manipulative to everyone else, but right now, she’s entirely focused on piecing you back together.

"You're beautiful," Sophia says, the words rushing out of her a little too fast. She pauses, her eyes darting down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes. A faint blush dusts her flawless cheeks—a rare sight for the girl who never loses her composure. "You're... you're too good for him. You're too good for any of these pathetic guys around here."

You close your eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself. You appreciate her trying to make you feel better, even if your bruised ego won't let you entirely believe her.

Sophia shifts closer, her leg pressing flush against yours. She wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against her side. You rest your head on her shoulder, the soft silk of her camisole cool against your hot cheek.

"I'm serious," Sophia mutters into your hair, her grip tightening possessively around you. "I don't even know why you bother with them. You don't need them. You have me. I’m never going to let anyone make you feel like this ever again."

You nod against her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her waist. You let yourself sink into her embrace, entirely missing the way she closes her eyes, burying her face in the crook of your neck, terrified of the overwhelming affection swelling in her chest.

"Just stay here," she whispers, her voice trembling just a fraction before she smooths it out into her usual commanding tone. "Forget about him. Just stay here with me."