Under my skin

If there was one fundamental truth in Mila’s life, it was that loving a Wilde was equal parts a blessing and a ruinous curse.

She and Chloe had been glued at the hip since the third grade, back when their biggest shared goal was sneaking extra fruit snacks out of the pantry.

Because they spent virtually every weekend, summer, and after-school hour together, Grayson had been a permanent fixture in the background of Mila’s upbringing.

Tall, sharp-eyed, and infuriatingly composed, Grayson was four years older and operated on a completely different plane of existence.

When Mila was sixteen, she’d mustered the courage to confess her biggest, most terrifying secret to her best friend over a tub of cookie dough: she was hopelessly, disastrously in love with Chloe’s older brother.

Chloe had hugged her tight, promised she wouldn’t tell a soul, and then gently delivered the cold, hard dose of reality:

“Look, I love him because he’s my brother, but Grayson is basically made of ice and work ethic, M. Don’t go getting your hopes up and ending up with a broken heart.”

Mila had tried to listen. She really had. But fast-forward twelve years, and the crush had stubbornly refused to die.

Now, in the present day, Grayson was a powerhouse; an award-winning music producer who ran his own booming indie record label.

Chloe was thriving as a high-fashion model, her face plastered across magazine covers and billboards.

Mila herself had carved out her own dream, building a career as an up-and-coming fashion designer.

They were all adults with real jobs and real lives, yet Mila was still the same hopeless idiot secretly pining for her best friend’s older brother.

“If Chandler and Monica can figure it out, why is my love life an absolute wasteland?” Mila groaned, sinking deeper into the pile of throw pillows on her couch.

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and she and Chloe were buried under a massive, plush weighted blanket in Mila’s living room, binging their all-time comfort show, Friends.

Chloe was half-asleep against Mila’s shoulder, idly twirling a strand of her blonde hair while the TV flickered with familiar nineties dialogue.

“Because you have impossibly high standards, M,” Chloe mumbled, not taking her eyes off the screen. “And by high standards, I mean a very specific six-foot-two standard who lives twenty minutes away.”

“Shut up,” Mila muttered, tossing her a piece of popcorn. She stared up at the ceiling, feeling that familiar, heavy ache in her chest.

She was so tired of being single. She was tired of blind dates that went nowhere, tired of polite small talk over awkward dinners. She wanted real romance. She wanted warmth.

More specifically, she wanted Grayson. But that was a pipe dream, so she settled for feeling dramatically sorry for herself.

Before Chloe could tease her further, Mila’s phone vibrated violently against the coffee table, the loud ringtone cutting through the sound of the TV applause.

Mila glanced at the caller ID and sighed. “Mom.”

“Put it on speaker,” Chloe whispered, suddenly sitting up and grinning. “I want to hear her harass you about your posture.”

Mila swiped to answer and tapped the speaker button. “Hey, Mom.”

“Mila! Sweetheart!” Her mother’s voice bounced brightly through the phone speakers. “I’m so glad I caught you. I was just finalising the travel arrangements for Clara’s destination wedding in Cabo next month, and I realised I hadn’t double-checked your flight details yet.”

Mila rubbed her eyes. “Mom, the wedding is still six weeks away…”

“And six weeks go by in the blink of an eye!” she interrupted breezily. “Anyway, the hotel needs a final head count for the welcome dinner on Friday night. I have you down as a single, but I wanted to make sure... are you bringing a plus-one? Is there anyone special in your life?”

“Mom, no, I told you last month, I’m not…”

“Oh, Mila, come on. It’s a gorgeous resort in Mexico! It breaks my heart thinking of you sitting all alone at the singles table while everyone else is dancing with their partners. You deserve to be happy, honey. Are you sure there isn’t anyone?”

The guilt hit her like a freight train, mixing violently with the lonely mood she’d been marinating in all afternoon.

She looked at Chloe, who was making a sympathetic face, and something in Mila’s brain just... snapped.

The filter vanished. The lie tumbled out before she could even process the words forming in her throat.

“Actually, Mom... I do have someone.”

Silence hit the line for two entire seconds. Beside her, Chloe froze. Her head snapped toward Mila so fast that Mila heard her neck pop.

“What?!” her mom squealed, her voice jumping two octaves. “Mila! You have a boyfriend?! Since when? Who is he? Do I know him?”

Mila’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Abort! Abort! Tell her it’s a guy from work! Say his name is Dan!

“Uh, yeah,” Mila stammered, panic surging through her veins like ice water. “It’s... well, you know him...”

“Mila, who is it?!”

Her eyes darted around the room, landing helplessly on Chloe, who was staring at her in sheer, horrified fascination, mouthing WHO?!

“It’s... Grayson,” Mila blurted out.

The living room went dead silent. Chloe’s jaw literally dropped. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her hands flying over her mouth to muffle a gasp.

On the other end of the line, Mila’s mother let out a sound that was half-screaming, half-sobbing.

“GRAYSON?! Grayson Wilde?! Oh, Mila! Oh, my baby! I knew it! I always thought you two would be so good together! Oh, this is the best news ever! I can’t wait to see you two in Cabo!”

“Mom, wait, we’re still kind of …”

“I have to call your aunt right now! Love you, bye!”

The line went dead with a sharp beep.

Mila slowly lowered her phone. The colour drained completely from her face. A heavy, suffocating wave of realisation crashed over her, and she sank backwards into the couch cushions, slapping both hands over her face with a loud thwack.

She didn’t just want to slide off the sofa; she wanted the earth to split open, swallow her whole, and digest her into nothingness.

“I said Grayson,” Mila whispered into her palms, her voice muffled and trembling. “I just told my mother I am dating Grayson Wilde. I am going to die. I’m going to jump into the sea.”

For three terrifying seconds, Chloe just stared at her. Then, a snort escaped her nose.

Within moments, she collapsed sideways onto the blanket, shaking with uncontrollable, breathless laughter.

“It’s not funny, Chloe!” Mila cried out, pulling her hands away to glare at her through her sheer panic. “I just committed a federal crime! I lied to my entire family! What am I supposed to do now? Tell her I made it up?! She’s already calling my aunt! They’re probably ordering personalised wedding napkins right now!”

“M,” Chloe wheezed, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye as she sat up. “You are completely insane. Unhinged.”

“I know! I want to crawl into a hole and rot!” Mila buried her face in her knees, her shoulders shaking. “How do I fix this? Chloe, help me. Pleeease help me.”

“Okay, okay, stop hyperventilating,” Chloe said, slapping Mila’s shoulder playfully, though her eyes were still dancing with amusement. She reached out, catching Mila’s hands and pulling them away from her face. “You have exactly one option.”

Mila looked at her miserably. “Fake my own death?”

“No,” Chloe chuckled, her expression softening into a wicked, supportive grin. “You’re going to get up off this couch, drive over to my parents’ house, and ask Grayson to pretend to be your boyfriend for a week in Mexico.”

Mila gaped at her. “Are you out of your mind?! He’ll say no! He’ll laugh at me, call me crazy, and then things will be weird forever!”

“He won’t,” Chloe insisted, giving her hands a firm squeeze. “Look, Grayson acts cold, but he’s a giant softie when it comes to people he cares about. And he cares about you, M. Just go rip the band-aid off.”

She nudged Mila’s shoulder with her own, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Besides... isn’t this literally what you’ve been dreaming about since you were sixteen? Go get your man.”