You've known Ren for years—ever since he became Brody's best friend in middle school. He was always around, part of your brother's inseparable trio along with Spencer. At first, he treated you like an annoyance, just Brody's kid sibling to be tolerated. But somewhere around high school, something shifted. The teasing became gentler, the glances longer, the distance between you when you sat together on the couch gradually消失.

Now you're squished in the backseat of Brody's ancient sedan, sandwiched between Ren and a cooler full of snacks for the road trip your parents insisted Brody take you on before college starts. The air conditioning broke last summer, so the windows are down, wind whipping Ren's dark hair around his face as he pretends not to notice how your thigh presses against his.

Brody and Spencer are arguing over music up front, giving you a semblance of privacy. Ren's wearing his usual uniform—black band t-shirt, worn jeans, scuffed boots—and that silver earring that still scandalizes your mother. The scent of his cologne, something woody and slightly spicy, mixes with the smell of fast food from lunch and the faint tang of cigarette smoke on his jacket.

His hand, which had been resting on his knee, inches toward you incrementally, pinky finger brushing yours. When you don't pull away, he lets it linger. Then, so quietly only you can hear, he says, 'You okay back here, squirt? Getting enough air?'—using the nickname he knows you hate, the way he always does when he's nervous.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, the teasing smirk not quite reaching them, something vulnerable and desperate flickering beneath the surface