Dane

After I swiped Camila's phone, she came at me faster than a lioness protecting her cub. I didn't even have time to gloat before she snatched it back with a slap on my back so quick and vicious, I swore it triggered car alarms somewhere down the block.

"Ow!" I yelped, totally milking the moment. I half-expected her to throw her head back and let out a roar, maybe even plant a foot on my back like she'd conquered me in some jungle battle. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if I turned around and found a perfect red handprint tattooed on my back for life.

Silvia absolutely lost it behind us. Her laugh? Oh, man. It wasn't just a laugh. It was like fireworks on New Year's Eve—loud, bright, and probably giving nearby neighbours the urge to file noise complaints. Pretty sure every pigeon in a five-kilometre radius ditched their flight plans just to avoid the chaos.

But you know what? That laugh was worth every second of Camila's abuse. Hearing Silvia like that—actually happy, after the day she'd had? It was the kind of sound that made you forget everything else. If taking a few more slaps kept that smile on her face, sign me up. I'd let Camila whack me into next year if it meant Silvia kept laughing like that.

Then I looked at her face. The swollen cheek, the bandaged lip—it hit me like a punch to the gut. And just like that, the laughter died in my chest. No matter how much she tried to play the part of her idiot brother, I could still see the truth. She was Silvia—a girl left cleaning up his mess while pretending like it didn't hurt.

And, man, it hurt. For her and for me. I thought Silus was my best friend, but now it felt like I'd been the backup plan all along. The spare tire he kept around for emergencies. That realisation stung worse than Camila's slap—and, trust me, her slap probably left a mark visible from space.

But seeing Silvia like this? That was a whole other level of pain. It made me feel like a complete failure, like my superhero cape was made of soggy paper towels instead of spandex. How could I let this happen? How could I stand by and watch her go through all this? I'd failed, big time. My man card wasn't just getting revoked—it was shredded, burned, and tossed in the garbage.

What kind of guy let the girl he liked get hurt like this?

I sighed, and it came out way louder than I meant. I was going for a subtle, tragic sigh—just enough to feel sorry for myself. Instead, it came out like a hurricane warning.

Camila whipped around, narrowing her eyes like she was gearing up for one of her infamous interrogations. "What's with the hurricane-level sigh, dude?" she asked.

I froze. My gaze automatically drifted towards Silvia, who'd just caught up to us, oblivious to the existential crisis I was having.

"You..." Camila murmured, her voice taking on that aha tone, like she was connecting dots I didn't even know existed.

Before I could spit out some lame excuse, Silvia cut in, raising an eyebrow at both of us. "So," she said, with just the right amount of sarcasm, "did I miss the memo about hosting a lawn party at my place?"

That's when it hit me—we were literally loitering on her front lawn like a couple of lost tourists. No invite, no plan, just standing there blocking her way.

"Well, come on, open the door," Camila said, as if she lived there and was just waiting to give us a grand tour. Classic Camila—swaggering through life like every house was hers to narrate.

Silvia shook her head, pulling out her keys with exaggerated exasperation. "Right," she muttered, loud enough for us to hear. "Apparently my house is now the neighbourhood's new bed and breakfast." Still, she unlocked the door and shot us a glare. "Welcome to the Silvia Inn—where guests check in unannounced and leave with their pockets full of snacks."

Camila and I waltzed into the living room with the confidence of Airbnb squatters. My eyes locked onto the armchair—the crown jewel of the room. Comfiest spot in the house, hands down, and it was already mine in my head.

Silvia disappeared into her room, probably weighing her options. Should she evict us? Hire an imaginary bouncer to throw us out? Honestly, I couldn't blame her. If two freeloaders strolled into my house acting like they'd paid the mortgage, I'd be having second thoughts too.

Camila, in all her clueless glory, plopped herself down in the danger zone—Rod's sacred spot on the couch. If he walked in and saw her there, he'd probably declare a national emergency. Couch therapists would be called, intervention meetings would be scheduled, and he'd probably launch a GoFundMe for his "emotional recovery."

That wasn't just a seat—it was a throne. Years of dedication had gone into perfecting it for Rod's royal backside. I still had PTSD from the one time I accidentally sat there as a kid. The man looked at me like I'd kicked his puppy. Heck, it was the only time I'd ever seen him tear up. I'd been avoiding that cushion ever since.

The fact that Camila—who basically lived here—still managed to sit there? Yeah, that told me everything. Silvia hadn't warned her on purpose. She was probably in her room right now, silently cackling at the chaos she'd set in motion.

I was loving it too. I stretched out on the armchair, kicking back like a man who knew exactly what was coming—and couldn't wait to watch it all go down.

A few minutes later, Silvia reappeared, ditching the whole Silus disguise and going full her. And, wow. I'd totally forgotten how stunning she was. Like, sure, she was cute pulling off the Silus thing, but Silvia? That was a whole other league.

My heart went into overdrive, trying to bust out of my chest. I had to clutch it, half-expecting it to start a flash mob with my lungs and stomach, all chanting for an encore of her breathtaking entrance. Chill, man, I told myself. But seriously, it wasn't every day you laid eyes on someone who could knock your world off its axis with just one look.

Camila, sharp as ever, shoved her phone into her pocket, giving me a side-eye. With zero chill, she pivoted to her next victim. "Oh yeah, Silvia, about the exams next month. We can finally study together!" She glared at me. "And Dane too...if he promises not to drool all over our notes. We're aiming for As, not Zzz."

I rolled my eyes but let it slide. No point in arguing when Camila was on a roll.

Silvia sighed, plopping down on the carpet. "I've already started studying," she said, her tone flat. "But honestly, a study group sounds better than pretending this floor is comfortable."

Camila and I exchanged a look of pure disbelief. She was studying already? It was like she'd confessed to memorising the entire dictionary for fun.

"I forgot you came from Rosecrest," Camila said, her voice dripping with dry humour. "Must be nice to have study skills genetically engineered into you over there."

"Rosecrest, huh?" Silvia muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "I forgot why I enrolled there in the first place."

Camila smirked, cranking her sarcasm up to full blast. "Oh, I know why. You were probably sold on their big promise—turning you into a billionaire by twenty-five, complete with a money tree in your graduation package. Shame they forgot to mention you have to water it with your tears."

Silvia let out a laugh, but it had that edge—the kind that meant she wasn't just laughing. "It just...makes me think of Felicia. She's really striving for Rosecrest."

"Felicia?" I repeated, my smirk growing. "Isn't she the girl who has a crush on you?"

Camila almost launched herself off the couch. "Wait—what? Felicia has a crush on who? Silvia? But Silvia is Silus at school... Wait, hold on—" Her brain officially hit the blue screen of death.

Silvia's head whipped around to me so fast I braced for actual laser vision to kick in. "Dane," she growled. "Scrub your mouth clean—it's like a compost heap in there."

I leaned back in my seat, grinning like the absolute menace I was. Totally worth it.

***

Coming home, the first thing that hit me was the smell of dinner cooking—Mum's special touch, as usual. The place had that warm, homey vibe that made you want to kick off your shoes, grab a plate, and settle in for the night. But something was off. Took me about two seconds to figure it out—Dad was MIA, pulling his usual disappearing act whenever real life came knocking.

I followed the trail of deliciousness to the kitchen and found Mum locked in a standoff with a pile of onions. Tears were streaming down her face as she chopped away like she was battling her sworn enemy. The intensity made me hesitate at the archway, half-wondering if I needed backup to enter.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, keeping it casual even though I already knew the answer.

Mum froze mid-chop, her knife hovering in the air. "...He mentioned something about a work gathering," she muttered, still eyeing the onions like they might try something. "Dinner's almost ready, so why don't you go take a shower first, Dane? Unless you want to join the onion massacre."

She smiled, but it wasn't her usual Mum smile. It had something else tucked behind it—a tiredness she couldn't quite hide. For a second, I wondered if those tears in her eyes were really from the onions after all.

I nodded, letting it slide. No way was I poking the whole Dad's gone AWOL again bear tonight. I wasn't in the mood to crack open that can of worms anyway.

I shuffled off to my room, where—for once—everything was peaceful. No mess, no drama, just pure, glorious peace. Honestly, it felt like the universe had finally decided to cut me some slack.

Of course, that peace lasted about five seconds. The second I shut the door, my phone went off with a ringtone so loud it could've scared Bigfoot out of hiding. No need to check the caller ID—I already knew it was Aiden.

I braced myself, knowing exactly what was coming. He was probably about to hit me with another one of his mind-blowing theories—like how algebra was actually controlling society, or how triangles were secretly plotting to take over the world.

I sighed and decided to roll with it. Picking up the call, I dove straight in. "Alright, spill it. What evil maths conspiracy are you about to blow my mind with this time?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Aiden's voice crackled through the phone, sounding genuinely confused. "Anyway, when are you going to start studying for the exams? Or are you planning to wing it like some fearless penguin?"

"Relax, I've got a plan. I'm studying with a friend of mine."

"Yo, let me crash your study party."

I hesitated, instantly picturing the absolute disaster of letting Aiden anywhere near this so-called "study party." It'd be like inviting a tornado to a picnic.

"Sorry, bro," I said, pulling an excuse out of thin air. "It's a top-secret, highly classified study session—strictly childhood confidants only. Plus, she's been diagnosed with a severe case of 'stranger danger syndrome'. Doctor's orders."

I could practically hear the grin creeping across his face. "A girl, huh? Introduce me, and we'll fast-track our way out of the stranger zone."

I dropped my tone, going full serious. "Not happening, dude. Go find your own study buddy."

He chuckled, clearly loving how protective I sounded. "So, even you have a special someone, huh?"

"Whatever. I'm hanging up," I shot back, cutting him off before he could get any more ideas.

Tossing my phone onto the bed, I shook my head. No way was I letting Aiden anywhere near Silvia. She was slowly working her way into the VIP section of my life, and there was zero chance I'd let him crash that party—not with his reputation.