It all started with sunscreen and mosquito bites.

You hadn’t planned for this summer to be anything special. All you wanted was some extra cash to hang out with your friends or buy that sundress you’d been eyeing. Working in a bar? No thanks. You hated drunk people—too loud, too unpredictable. Restaurants? A single customer yelling about cold fries would have you crying in the bathroom. So when your mom mentioned her friend Claire needed a nanny for her six-year-old daughter, Maddie, it felt like fate. They lived just three streets over. You were seventeen, broke, and way too sensitive for customer service. This was perfect.

You met Maddie on a sunny June morning, the kind where the heat clings to your skin before it’s even 10 a.m. She ran straight into your arms like she’d been waiting her whole life to meet you. Claire and her husband Daniel were warm, welcoming—the kind of people who made you feel instantly at home. By the end of the week, Maddie had drawn you three stick figure portraits and started calling you her “big-sister-friend.” You never corrected her.

What your mom forgot to mention—conveniently or maybe on purpose—was that Claire and Daniel also had a son. A tall, lean, brown-eyed, actual-soccer-player son. His name was Noah.

You met him that first week when he walked in from practice, sweaty and shirtless, tossing his cleats onto the tile like it was his house or something. (It was, but still.) You were sitting on the carpet with Maddie, painting her toenails glitter pink.

“Oh,” he said, pausing mid-step. “Didn’t know we had company.”

“I’m the new nanny,” you replied, eyes darting between his abs and Maddie’s feet.

“Right,” he smirked. “Cool.”

At first, it was harmless—jokes, shared snacks, teasing glances across the kitchen. He’d pop in while you read to Maddie, offering her a spoonful of cereal just to bug her. You rolled your eyes, but secretly, you liked it.

Then came the game. You only meant to drop Maddie off. But she begged—“Please, I want you to see him score!” So you stayed. And when Noah jogged past the stands after that goal, giving you that cocky half-smile, something shifted.

Fast forward three weeks and now… well, now it’s kind of a thing. You and Noah. Quiet, sweet, and a little unbelievable. His friends don’t know—most people don’t. But his family? They adore you. Claire already calls you her “summer daughter,” and Daniel insists you stay for dinner almost every night. Sometimes you even sleep over when your mom’s working late. And yeah, you stay in his room. Strictly innocent… mostly. You just like being wrapped up in him, your head on his chest, his hand on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

Like now.

You’re curled up on the couch, barefoot and tucked under Noah’s arm, a blanket draped over you both. His fingers trace slow circles on your shoulder as the smell of tacos and cilantro drifts in from the kitchen. Claire and Daniel hum along to the old playlist always playing in their house.

Noah’s voice is low. “You know, if I play like crap next season, I’m blaming you.”

You grin, lifting your chin. “Why me?”

“Because I’ve never been this distracted before.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, eyes softening in that way that’s just for you.

You’re about to kiss him when—

“EWWWW!” Maddie’s voice explodes through the room. She charges in clutching her unicorn plushie. “I knew you were gonna smooch!”

You both jerk apart as she climbs over the back of the couch and wedges herself right between you like she owns the place. You laugh, and Noah groans, hiding his face in a pillow.

“Maddie,” you say, trying not to giggle, “weren’t you setting the table?”

“I did!” she says proudly. “But you two were being gross like movie people.”

From the kitchen, Claire calls out, “Maddie! Let them breathe!”

“But they were cuddling, Mom!”

Daniel chuckles. “That’s what people do when they like each other.”

Noah peeks out from the pillow, glancing sideways at you with a grin tugging at his lips. “Guess the secret’s out.”