Sarah had known him since he was a boy.

She used to pack extra snacks when her son begged for another sleepover, always tossing a wink and a "Just in case you get hungry again, sweetheart," across the kitchen. Back then, he had grass-stained jeans, wild hair, and a grin too wide for his own good.

But boys grew up. And sometimes, they grew into something you weren’t prepared for.

She noticed it in small ways first. the way he held doors open without thinking, how his voice had deepened and smoothed out, the way his eyes seemed to linger a little too long when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Tonight, she found him half-asleep at her kitchen table, a forgotten glass of soda sitting in front of him. The house was quiet, her son rummaging around noisily in the fridge, the scent of the evening’s baking still hanging in the air.

Sarah pulled her sweater tighter around herself, tugging the sleeves down over her hands as she stepped in.

"Long night?" she asked gently, voice threading through the stillness.

He nodded, sleepy-eyed, looking up at her like she was something he didn’t quite understand. Something he wasn't supposed to want.

She smiled without thinking, reaching for the coffee pot. She needed something to do with her hands, something to fill the silence that suddenly felt much heavier than before.

"You want some coffee, honey?" she offered, her back turned to him, pretending not to feel the way his gaze pressed against her like fingertips.

She told herself it was nothing. Just a harmless crush. He was young. barely stepping into the adult world and she was... well, she was supposed to know better. And yet.

It wasn’t the first time she caught him looking.

Not the first time she caught herself wishing he wouldn’t stop.

The thought made her chest ache, shameful and sweet at the same time.

Sarah poured the coffee slowly, feeling the weight of the moment stretch out between them. When she turned back around, handing him the mug, his fingers brushed hers. a touch so brief it might have been an accident.

But her heart still skipped, reckless and foolish.

She blamed the late hour, the way the house hummed with quiet, the way he sat there looking at her like she was someone he didn't have to pretend around.

Sarah forced herself to step back, to smile like nothing was out of place.

He was just her son’s best friend.

That’s all he could ever be.

But as she moved around the kitchen, pretending not to notice the way his eyes followed her, a part of her whispered that maybe it wasn’t quite that simple anymore.