My parents always wanted a boy: someone my dad could play football with, someone to carry on the family name. Daniel is the epitome of the perfect son in the eyes of my parents. He's only in 8th grade but at 14 years old, he's nearly six feet tall and the best football player on his state team.

Our roles were assigned at birth. For me, the plan is to become the ultimate Ivy League student and live out my mother's dreams. So, she set up piano lessons and tutors and after-school programs. But since Daniel was born, piano recitals have fallen second to football games. Science fairs are overlooked by travel practices. Robotics medals are hung behind MVP trophies. For me, a 4.8 GPA is expected and anything less is a failure. For Daniel, even if he misses days of schoolwork, he's perfect. He plays video games for hours and doesn't have to ask to go out with his friends.

When I was younger, I wanted to play football too because I thought that then my dad would really truly love me. And I really gave it my all, the only girl at tryouts. Unfortunately, I have zero coordination and my parents quickly made it known that football is a boy's sport. Lucky them, Daniel is here to fulfill that role.

I speed to Daniel's practice, nearly run two red lights, and pass at least five cars to make it on time. My dad is already there, clearly irritated with me for cutting it close but he brightens up when Daniel jogs over. I'm basically just a chauffeur at this point but I am his sister so I make sure to stay and watch a little bit before I leave.

I get home around five and am just about to start my homework when I remember Zack's text.

Don't reply: did you think about my offer

I roll my eyes. Maybe I really shouldn't reply. My phone screen and I have a stare off before I finally give in.

Amelia: No thanks

It's dry, to say the least, but I need to focus. Stats is a full on pain in my ass and it's only been a few days since the last test.

He takes his sweet time responding.

Don't reply: you couldn't handle it

I shake my head.

Amelia: I guess we'll never know

I return to my notes but it's barely a minute when he replies.

Don't reply: I told DeMarco to fuck off today

My eyebrows shoot up.

Amelia: You're joking

Don't reply: Does it seem like I am

Amelia: I can't tell

Incoming call: Don't Reply

Panic shoots through me as my ringer goes off louder than expected and I mute my phone immediately before stepping into my closet and closing the door.

"Hello?" I answer.

"I'm not joking," he says. "Guy's a dipshit anyway."

"He's your friend," I point out,

"Exactly."

I laugh but quietly so that my mom doesn't hear.

"I have a question," I tell him, remembering my talk with Ella earlier.

"Ask."

"Is there a party next weekend?"

I can practically hear his grin as he replies, "why? You wanna ask me to go together?"

"No," I respond pointedly. "My friend wants to go."

"She cute?" he asks immediately and I feel my lips flatten out. She definitely is and I'm sure if he wanted to, Zack could seduce her. Ella has a thing for the toxic "bad boys" you see on TV and Zack's practically one in real life.

"She's interested in the party, not you."

"For now." His tone is awfully confident.

I huff. "Do you have an address or not?"

"No one plans parties two weeks in advance, loser."

I'm not particularly offended by this name. His tone isn't mean.

"Well, will you have an address?" I correct myself tiredly.

"Of course," he answers simply.

"Will you send it to me?" I ask with an internal sigh. Do I have to ask him for every little thing?

"I can," he replies then adds, "what do I get in return?"

Is he serious? "Forget it. I'll ask Jaden."

"Oh come on. Don't be lame."

Now, I know the smart thing to do would be to just hang up but I decide to take the bait. "What do you want?"

He's definitely grinning right now. "I'll think of something," he says dismissively.

That's reassuring. I hate not knowing the outcome of something.

"Fine," I agree simply because I need to go back to studying. "I have one more question."

"No, I don't do relationships," he answers before I can even ask anything.

"What?" I sputter. "I wasn't..."

"That's the type of question I tend to attract," is his explanation. "Well, that and how big is my-"

"That's not what I was gonna ask!" I exclaim, positive that my face is red. Thankfully, for once, he can't see my blush although I doubt he's unaware of it.

"Of course not," he agrees flatly. "You're too vanilla." It's almost like a dare, the way he says it, but I'm not going to fall for this one.

"How did you know that was my first kiss?" I ask.

He falls silent on the other side and I'm thinking he full-on got up and left until he says, "I didn't. I thought it was a joke."

My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"In the locker room, I heard some guys talking and that tool, Brad Lockwood, was talking about how you've never kissed a guy. I thought he was lying. I wouldn't have brought it up if I knew it was true."

My heart sinks. Brad Lockwood... Last year, he tried to make a move on me like he does with half of the girls in the school and he got pissed when I resisted because he expected me to be "desperate" and "grateful a guy like him even talked to me." I'm positive what Zack gave me was the censored version and his locker room talk went beyond "she's never kissed anyone."

Memories of how Brad tried to impress me with his expensive car and fake manners only to try to feel me up after getting to know me for a mere 15 minutes fill my head. He really drove us straight to an old parking lot, expecting something. All the names he called me when I got out of his car replay in my mind.

I remember walking home alone that night in freezing weather until my phone caught signal again. I found out a couple of days later that that's what he does: pick girls who don't get a lot of attention from guys and try to hook up with them. The thought makes me tighten my grip on my phone.

"You there?" Zack asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'm gonna go." Before he can ask any more questions, I hang up.

---

That night, I'm tossing and turning until four A.M. even though I'm usually asleep by two.

First, it's stress: my SAT scores are coming out soon, I need to bring my Stats grade up to a 93 before the next test, and I keep forgetting the chords in the middle of my Chopin piece for my biggest competition. Also, I can't believe that jerk, Brad Lockwood, is still talking about me.

Then, it's excitement. The vintage copy of Little Women that I scoured the internet and got a good bargain for is arriving tomorrow. I don't know when I'm going to have time to read it, though.

Third is my recollection of every single embarrassing moment of my life: when I walked around with my period stain on my butt and Eddie Shi saw me, all the times I was added to project groups because I had no friends.

But my final thoughts of the night are the worst: Jaden's smile that's too pretty to belong to a guy, how jealous I am of their loving relationship. Guilt floods through me for even thinking about him and my thoughts shift to the scent of a campfire; dark, glowering eyes; and a flexing arm that drives stick-shift.

I can show you what a real one is like...

Even his goddamn lips are pretty: full, never chapped, and almost always pulled into a smirk I want to slap away. I wonder if his hands are soft or callused. I imagine the feeling of them against my skin.

Holy shit.

I'm a pervert. Why am I thinking about these things? My whole body is hot, from embarrassment I assume. Honestly, I don't even know how to explain my body's reactions.

I must be tired.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to think of Mr. Bean and only Mr. Bean until my body returns to its normal temperature. Sure enough, I fall asleep within minutes but when I wake up, I'm filled with horror. I hop out of bed immediately and splash my face with ice-cold water.

I dreamed about him.

This is not good.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far. Votes and comments r appreciated! Stay safe and enjoyyy