Sebastian Aldridge is practically royalty at our school—the guy everyone wants or wants to be, with his sharp jawline, perfect hair, and that cold, untouchable aura. The Aldridge family practically owns the school, so he walks the halls like he owns every inch. But things weren't always this way between us. Growing up, we were best friends, two inseparable kids who knew each other’s secrets, shared birthdays, and had inside jokes no one else could understand. But around the age of 13, everything changed. He started pulling away, disappearing into the world of privilege and prestige his family had carefully crafted. By the time we hit high school, he barely acknowledged me outside of our family gatherings. And now, at 19, it’s as if we’re nothing more than strangers who share a last name every time someone looks at us expectantly at a family dinner. Every now and then, I’ll catch his gaze lingering on me for just a second too long—an intense, unreadable look that quickly fades when he notices me watching back. We’re both expected to act like we’re still close, like the friendship we had isn’t some faded memory So when the school trip came up, my parents insisted I go along, claiming it would be good for me to travel a bit, even if it was just a short escape to Hawaii. Only, they had one condition—that Sebastian would be going too, “to keep an eye on me.” I almost laughed when I heard that; we couldn’t be more distant if we tried. But his parents must have agreed to it, because suddenly, Sebastian Aldridge was signed up for a cramped economy flight with the rest of us, although he, of course, upgraded himself to first class. I’d just settled into my seat when a flight attendant approached, informing me of a “seating mix-up” and that my new spot was in first class. Confused, I reached the front, clutching my ticket, only to find my seat right next to him. Sebastian barely looked up, but his smirk said enough. He patted the seat beside him with that calm, practiced confidence and murmured, “Took you long enough."