All Along

Jess’s POV

“Hey, Jess, what’s up?” James asked casually as he jumped through my window.

“Jesus, James—you scared the life out of me!” I pressed a hand to my chest, heart still hammering. “Why can’t you ever use the door like a normal person? Or at least knock? I could’ve been naked.”

“So what? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen you naked,” James countered.

“We were six. Our moms had to hose us down after we jumped in that mud pit. I think I’ve changed a bit since then.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor.

James and I have known each other since we were three years old, when my family moved into the house next to his. Both of our families had relocated from America to Marbella, Spain. They didn’t know each other before, but they became fast friends—a friendship that still holds today. We practically grew up together.

Marbella sat on the Costa del Sol like a postcard come to life—golden beaches, luxury yachts bobbing in the marina, and narrow cobblestone streets lined with whitewashed buildings that glowed pink at sunset.

Our corner of it was a little pocket of American families who’d landed here for work or the weather or some combination of both. The parents did barbecues and beach days; the kids ran wild between the sand and the sea. It felt like home, even though home was an ocean away.

James and I grew up bilingual—private school in English, everything else in Spanish. We could switch mid-sentence without thinking, catch jokes in both languages, belong to both worlds at once.

We had the kind of childhood you only get in places like that—sun-soaked and free. Bikes along the promenade. Ice cream from the same shop every time. Football with the local kids until the streetlights came on.

The boys didn’t want to let me play at first. “You’re a girl.” So I fought my way in—literally, a few times—until they stopped arguing. I was small, but I was fast, and we won more than we lost. James always picked me for his team. The others would tease him in Spanish: “James likes Jess, James likes Jess.” He never said anything back. I could never tell if he didn’t care, or if he cared too much to respond.

He was there when I learned to ride a bike. When I walked into school for the first time. When I punched a boy in the nose for the first time.

All my firsts. Always James.

I don’t see that changing. I don’t want it to.

“Anyway, what are you here for?” I asked.

“What, can’t I visit my best friend of fifteen years?” He gave me the puppy eyes—the ones that stopped working on me around age twelve.

“Almost fifteen. And just spit it out. What do you want?”

“Well, there’s Caleb’s party tonight, and I was wondering if I could borrow your car.”

“And why exactly do you need my car on a Saturday? Can’t you just ride with Philip?”

“His car’s at the mechanic’s.”

“Then take his bike.”

“The thing is, Philip and I promised to pick up Lily and her friend, so a bike won’t do.”

“Lily? The one who always forgets to button her shirt?”

James averted his eyes.

“So let me get this straight. You want to use my car to drive to a party, get drunk, make out with these girls in my backseat, and who knows what else. Is that right?” I raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to put it quite like that...”

“The car that Yiayia gave me for my eighteenth birthday? You’re out of your mind. Forget it.”

“But Jess, just hear me out—”

“Nope. No chance.” I pulled two dresses from my closet and held them up. “And who says I wasn’t planning to go myself?”

“The blue or the red?” I asked.

He stared at the dresses, then at me, then back at the dresses. “The blue,” he said finally. “It’s longer. More... appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” I tilted my head. “Since when do you care about appropriate?”

“I don’t.” He said it too quickly. “I just think blue suits you better. Matches your eyes.”

I studied him. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite read—a tension in his jaw, maybe, or the way his eyes kept darting away from mine. But before I could press him, he was already backing toward the window.

“Anyway, I should go get ready. See you there?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before disappearing the way he’d come.

I stood there for a moment, holding both dresses, then tossed them back into the closet.

The black one had been hanging in the back the whole time. That was the one I wanted.

The next two hours were a blur of showers, hair products, and three different makeup attempts. I usually didn’t put this much effort into parties—mascara, lip gloss, done. But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the way James had looked at me. Maybe it was just the restless energy that came with the end of the school year and summer stretching out ahead.

My phone buzzed. Macy: “What should I wear? I’m panicking.”

I called instead of texting. “The white dress. The one we bought last month.”

“But what if it’s too much? What if people think I’m trying too hard?”

“Macy.” I put on my most serious voice. “You could show up in a potato sack and still look gorgeous. That dress makes you look like you stepped out of a fairy tale. Wear it. Anyone has a problem, they can talk to me.”

She laughed—soft and musical. “You’re going to fight someone at the party, aren’t you?”

“Only if they deserve it. Be ready in an hour.”

Macy had transferred from Hong Kong four years ago, barely speaking above a whisper for the first month. I’d appointed myself her unofficial translator—not of language, but of everything else. Sarcasm. Dress codes. Which teachers you could argue with and which ones you couldn’t.

Somewhere along the way, she’d become the sister I never had. Sweet, thoughtful, fiercely loyal in her quiet way. The kind of person who remembered your coffee order and noticed when you were having a bad day before you even said anything.

Tonight, she looked beautiful in her rosy-white dress, her dark hair pinned up with a few loose strands framing her face. Like an angel who’d accidentally wandered into a house party.

Which made our contrast even more striking. After quitting gymnastics at fifteen, I’d let my hair grow past my waist and stopped treating food like the enemy. My body had softened in some places, filled out in others. I finally looked like a woman instead of a machine built for backflips. Tonight I’d poured myself into a tight black dress that left little to the imagination—and I liked it that way.

“We’re here,” I announced, pulling the handbrake a few meters from Caleb’s house.

I noticed worry flicker across Macy’s face and placed my hands on her shoulders.

“You look stunning. Anyone can see that. And if Philip decided to come with someone else, then he’s not the one for you.” I softened my voice. “But I have a feeling he got roped into this. You know how James is. That doesn’t mean Philip’s interested in her friend.”

Macy sighed. “It’s his choice, after all.”

“No, Macy. It’s yours.”

I stepped out of the car and linked my elbow through hers as we approached the door.

Before we could knock, the door swung open. Music and the smell of booze and smoke hit us like a wall.

“Heeeey, look who’s here!” Caleb pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, Caleb. Thanks for the invite.”

He grinned. “Please. Who wouldn’t want the school’s badass beauty at their party?”

I laughed him off as he turned to greet Macy—gentler with her, I noticed. Good. He knew better.

Then I heard it. A familiar voice behind me.

“You came.”

I turned. James stood a few steps below me with Philip and two girls—Lily and her friend Nancy. He was wearing tight blue-black jeans and a simple white T-shirt that hugged his shoulders in a way I tried not to notice. Years of kickboxing had done their work. We still trained together sometimes, though lately it felt... different. Charged, somehow.

Philip’s eyes found Macy before he’d even finished climbing the steps. He caught himself, looked away—but not before I saw the tips of his ears go red. Interesting.

“Who was your ride?” I asked James, smirking.

“Don’t ask.” He grimaced. “I spent the whole drive questioning my life choices.”

“Hey, babe, I’m not that bad,” Lily interjected, pressing herself against his arm, her cleavage practically in his face.

I felt something twist in my stomach. I ignored it.

“Are you coming in or what?” Caleb interrupted, and we all moved inside.

The party was loud, humid, and exactly what you’d expect from a June night in Marbella. Warm enough to make everyone a little reckless.

“Everyone’s already drunk,” I murmured to Macy. “Be careful and stay close.”

“You’re also a girl, you know,” James said, his expression unreadable.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, leaned in close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, and whispered in his ear: “I can handle myself.”

Then I pulled back and walked away, taking Macy with me. I didn’t look back to see his expression.

I didn’t need to.

The living room had been transformed into a dance floor, furniture shoved against the walls for the mass of swaying bodies. In the kitchen, some drinking game involved a lot of shouting and spilled beer. The backyard was quieter—string lights cast a warm glow over people lounging on lawn chairs or dangling their feet in the pool.

“Drink?” I asked Macy.

She shook her head. “Maybe later. I need a minute to breathe.”

I understood. Parties weren’t her scene—she’d only come because I’d convinced her, and probably because she hoped to see Philip.

We found a quiet spot near the pool. We talked, we people-watched, we laughed at drunk classmates stumbling past.

I was chatting with a girl from history class when someone pressed a cold cup into my hand.

“Relax, it’s just soda,” James said, appearing beside me. “I know you’re driving.”

I took a sip. He was right. “Thanks. Where’s Lily?”

Silence. Then—

“You didn’t wear the blue dress.”

Something in his voice made me look at him more carefully. “I didn’t. Problem?”

He held my gaze for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes—something that made my stomach do a strange little flip. Then he looked away.

“No,” he said. “No problem at all.”

Before I could push further, I spotted someone across the room. “Oh—Elena! She was on my gymnastics team. I should go say hi.”

I squeezed his arm—just briefly—and headed off.

Halfway across the room, I glanced back. Just for a second.

James was still standing where I’d left him, watching me with an expression I couldn’t name.

Something tightened in my chest.

I turned away before I could think too hard about what it meant.

James’s POV

Riding in Lily’s car was a mistake.

She drove like a drunken grandmother and talked nonstop, and so did Nancy. Philip caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his expression clearly saying you owe me for this. Fair enough. I did.

But the moment we climbed the steps to Caleb’s house, I forgot all of it.

Because there she was.

Tanned legs—toned, athletic—barely covered by a tight black dress that hugged every curve. I’d recognize those legs from a mile away. And that dress...

Damn it. I told her to wear the blue one. Black wasn’t even an option. Why ask my opinion if she was going to ignore it?

Come on, Jess.

“You came,” I heard myself say. My voice came out flatter than I intended, probably because I was standing a few steps below her and her chest was at eye level and I was trying very hard not to look—

She asked about my ride. I made some joke while staring at the doorframe.

What if she notices? What if she sees the way I’m looking at her?

Caleb interrupted—thank God—and we all headed inside.

“Everyone’s already drunk,” I heard her tell Macy. “Be careful and stay close.”

Jess had always been like this. Protector of the weak, defender of the underdog. I still remembered her in kindergarten, walking away from a screaming boy with a rescued kitten in her arms and two of his baby teeth on the ground behind her. She was five. Some things never changed.

Maybe that’s why I’d chosen kickboxing. I wanted to be strong enough to protect her—a role she’d never once thought to offer me.

“You’re also a girl, you know,” I said.

She placed her hand on my shoulder. Leaned in close. I could smell her shampoo—something floral, still slightly damp from her shower.

“I can handle myself,” she whispered.

I know you can handle yourself. But I want to be the one doing that.

Then she pulled away and walked off with Macy, and I just stood there like an idiot, her touch still burning through my shirt.

Lily appeared at my side, threading her arm through mine. “Babe, come dance with me.”

“In a minute,” I said, barely glancing at her. My eyes were still following Jess as she disappeared into the crowd with Macy.

“You’re always staring at her,” Lily said, and there was an edge to her voice that made me finally look at her. She was pouting, but behind the pout was something sharper. Suspicion, maybe. Or jealousy.

“She’s my best friend,” I said. “I’ve known her since we were three.”

“Uh-huh.” Lily didn’t sound convinced, but she let it go—for now. “Fine. Get me a drink, at least?”

I grabbed two cups from the kitchen, filling hers with whatever punch was in the bowl and mine with something stronger. I needed it. Being around Jess when she looked like that—all curves and confidence and that damn black dress—was testing every ounce of self-control I had.

At some point, Lily’s friends pulled her and Nancy onto the dance floor, leaving Philip and me by the drinks table.

“Thank God,” Philip muttered, grabbing a beer.

I noticed his gaze kept drifting toward the back of the house—toward the backyard where Jess and Macy had disappeared earlier.

“Just go talk to her,” I said.

He shook his head. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I showed up with another girl even though I’ve liked you for years’?”

“Better than standing here staring.”

He didn’t respond. Just took another sip and kept watching.

I understood. More than he knew.

“You good?” he asked in return.

“Fine,” I lied.

He followed my gaze out the window to where Jess was now standing chatting with a friend, string lights catching the gold in her hair. “You should just tell her, you know.”

“Tell her what?”

Philip gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “Whatever, man. But this pining thing? It’s getting old.”

“I’m not pining.”

“Sure.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m going to go find Caleb. Try not to do anything stupid.”

I should have gone back to Lily. Instead, I grabbed a non-alcoholic drink and walked toward Jess.

What are you doing? I asked myself. She doesn’t need you to bring her drinks.

I was beside her before I could overthink it, pressing the cup into her hand.

“Relax, it’s just soda. I know you’re driving.”

She raised an eyebrow but took a sip. God, even the way she drank was attractive.

What was wrong with me?

“Thanks. Where’s Lily?”

“You didn’t wear the blue dress,” I said, ignoring her question.

Apparently I had no filter tonight.

“I didn’t. Problem?”

Yes. The problem is you look incredible. Every guy in this room is staring at you. And I want to fight all of them.

“No. No problem at all.”

She spotted someone across the room, squeezed my arm, and was gone.

Lily appeared a moment later, threading her arm through mine. I let her pull me onto the dance floor. The crowd swallowed us—music pulsing, bodies pressed together, the smell of sweat and alcohol thick in the air. Lily was pressed against me, talking about something I’d already forgotten. But my mind was elsewhere.

On a black dress I’d told her not to wear.

On blonde hair that smelled like summer.

On a girl who’d never see me as anything more than a friend.