The beach house buzzed with noise. Your brother was mid-argument with his girlfriend over dinner plans. Your friend and her boyfriend stumbled in ahead of everyone else, already tipsy, laughing as they hauled their bags inside.

And then there was him. Your brother’s best friend—older, quieter. He glanced up as he set the cooler down, his gaze catching yours across the deck. The rule had always been unspoken but absolute. Don’t touch her. Don’t cross the line. She’s my sister.

By evening, the sun sank low, staining everything gold. One by one, everyone disappeared inside to shower and change for dinner. You stayed behind, leaning against the railing, watching the water deepen into blue-black.

You turned just as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Your name was etched across his spine.

The breath left you in a sharp, silent gasp. He froze. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, eyes locking with yours.

“You weren’t meant to see that.”