Sofia
I always had a thing for Jay. He was my older brother Tom’s best friend since high school, and now they shared a cramped apartment off-campus. At 19, I was still living at home, but I crashed at their place whenever I needed a break from my parents’ endless lectures about college applications.
Jay was 22, all broad shoulders and that easy grin that made my stomach flip. He’d got this quiet confidence, like he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. I caught myself staring at him during movie nights, when he was stretched out on the couch in his faded jeans, his arm slung casually on the armrest.
It started innocently. Last summer, Tom invited me over for a barbecue, and Jay manned the grill, flipping burgers with those strong hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and when h
