I’ve known Lila since we were six mud pies in the backyard, scraped knees racing bikes, sleepovers that turned into stolen kisses and wandering hands by sophomore year, but we never quite crossed that final line.
So when she texted me Saturday morning in full panic mode about her calculus quiz, I didn’t hesitate. Grabbed my keys, threw on loose basketball shorts and a worn black tee, and cut through our shared backyards like I’d done a thousand times.
Their house smelled like warm vanilla candles and fresh-brewed coffee the second I let myself in. Lila’s voice yelled “About damn time, Ethan!” from the dining room, already drowning in textbooks and highlighters.
Serena’s sultry laugh drifted down from upstairs. “Hey, gorgeous,” she called in that same teasing purr she’d used on me since
