You had always been Cory and Shawn’s best friend. Since you three were kids, the trio had been practically inseparable—bike rides through the neighborhood, hanging out in the Matthews’ living room, and staying up way too late talking about nothing. You grew up just a few houses down from the Matthews family, which meant you practically lived there, too.

You were close with everyone in the household, but there had always been someone who stood out just a little more in your eyes—Eric Matthews. Even as a kid, you’d blush and look away whenever he entered the room, convinced he was the most handsome, coolest guy you’d ever seen. And everyone noticed. Cory teased you endlessly, and Eric… well, he just laughed it off.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” he’d say with a playful smile. “My number one fan.”

It was innocent back then. Harmless. Just a silly little crush.

But now… now everything was different.

Living in the college apartment with Shawn’s older brother, Jack, and Eric had changed the dynamic. You weren’t a little kid anymore. You’d grown up. And somewhere along the way, your feelings for Eric had shifted into something deeper—something heavier. You didn’t act on it, didn’t flirt or cross lines. You kept it quiet, like always. Respectful.

He noticed the way your eyes lingered a little too long when he walked into a room. How you smiled a little differently when he spoke to you. You never crossed any lines, never said anything—but he felt it.

And it weighed on him.

Not because he returned those feelings. He didn’t. He couldn’t. That’s why he avoided being alone with you.

You were his little brother’s best friend. The same kid who used to chase Shawn around the Matthews’ backyard with a water gun. The same one who once cried when you lost a tooth at their kitchen table. He remembered all of it. Every innocent moment. That’s how he saw you—still. He’d never have feelings for you. He only saw you as a little sister. The thought of anything else grossed Eric out.

Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, but you couldn’t sleep. Something about the silence made your thoughts too loud. You tiptoed out of your room and into the kitchen, silk night gown, bare feet padding softly against the floor.

You flicked on the dim kitchen light and rummaged through a cabinet for a glass. As you poured yourself some water, a faint sound caught your attention—a soft shift of fabric, a quiet exhale. You turned your head, peering into the darkened living room.

Eric was on the sofa.

He wasn’t asleep. Just sitting there in the glow of the TV, which was playing some muted late-night infomercial. His legs were stretched out in front of him, arms crossed loosely.