My Brother's Best Friend

Five Years Ago

"You ever stop talking, or nah?" Trent muttered, barely glancing up from his laptop as I walked into the living room.

I froze mid-step, my teenage sass instantly kicking in. "Yuh ever stop being a dry, uptight jackass?"

Devin groaned from the other side of the couch. "Oh God, here we go again..."

Trent finally looked at me, dark eyes sharp behind his glasses. He was 23 then grown, serious, and somehow always irritated by my very existence. I was 17, full of mouth, full of fire, and sick of him acting like the boss of a house he didn't even live in.

"You always have something smart to say, Kaila," he said flatly, "but never anything useful."

I wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

"Funny, coming from someone who still needs to crash at my mother's house every weekend like a stray dog."

That wiped the smirk off.

He stared at me for a beat too long, like he was fighting the urge to say something he shouldn't.

Devin's voice cut in, breaking the tension. "Can you two chill? Just one weekend without this?"

We both backed off, but not without one last glare.

That was how it always was between me and Trent. Snark. Sass. Silent wars fought across dinner tables and car rides. He thought I was loud and spoiled. I thought he was cold and full of himself.

But there was something else too, something unspoken.

Like when our eyes met and lingered too long.

Like when he brushed past me in the hallway and my heart stupidly skipped.

Like when he said my name in that deep, annoyed voice that made my stomach flutter.

I hated him.

At least, I tried to.

But even back then, I knew, one day, something was going to break between us.

And it wouldn't be pretty.