Joshuan
Flashback...
The day we moved to New York was the time I met the Sinclair family, it was because my mother forced me to be polite.
I remember standing stiffly in my too-clean, too-starched button-down shirt, my hands shoved into my pockets as my parents exchanged pleasantries with Luke and Elle Sinclair.
They were nice.
The kind of rich people nice that made my father stand taller, made my mother more polite than usual.
"They are good business partners," my father had said in the car earlier. "Treat them with respect."
That meant one thing—be on your best behavior.
I was already annoyed before I stepped foot onto their property.
And then?
Then I met Jamie Sinclair.
Jamie was outside kicking a soccer ball against the steps of the massive white estate, his curls bouncing, completely unbothered by the world.
When he saw me step out of the car, he didn't hesitate.
He ran straight over, grinning like he'd been waiting for me.
"Hey!" he called. "You're the new kid, right?"
I frowned. "I have a name."
Jamie just laughed. "Okay, new kid with no name, do you play soccer?"
I hesitated. "Yeah."
"Cool. We're best friends now."
I blinked. "What?"
Jamie shrugged, like it was obvious. "That's how it works. C'mon."
And just like that—I had a best friend.
I didn't know it then, but Jamie was the kind of person who decided things instantly.
And once he decided?
You were stuck with him.
Luckily for me, I didn't mind.
And then came her.
I was mid-pass, about to kick the ball back to Jamie, when a tiny blur of curls and pink fabric came flying toward us.
"JAMIE!"
Jamie groaned so dramatically I thought he was in actual pain.
"Oh my god," he muttered. "Go inside Aurora."
She ignored him completely.
Instead, she skidded to a stop right in front of me, grinning.
"You're the new kid!"
I frowned. Again with that?
"Why does everyone keep saying that?"
Jamie rolled his eyes. "Because you are the new kid, dumbass."
Before I could snap back, she grabbed my arm.
Her tiny hands were ice cold, and she yanked me forward like she had already decided I belonged to her.
"Come see my dolls!" she demanded.
I scowled. "Dolls are for girls."
Her eyes went wide.
Then—
She kicked me.
Right in the shin.
I yelled, stumbling back as Jamie howled with laughter.
She crossed her arms, her face scrunching up in pure rage.
"DOLLS. ARE. FOR. EVERYONE."
Jamie was practically on the floor laughing.
And me?
I just glared at the tiny demon child in front of me.
"You're annoying."
She grinned.
"Thanks!"
And just like that?
I met Aurora Sinclair.
And I had no idea what that would mean for me years later.
I don't know when it changed.
One day, she was just Jamie's annoying little sister.
The kid who kicked me in the shin and forced me to look at her stupid dolls.
The kid who followed us everywhere, even when we tried to ditch her.
The kid who never knew when to shut up.
And then—
She wasn't a kid anymore.
And I wasn't just her brother's best friend.
As we grew as teenagers, I was in the Sinclair backyard, tossing a football with Jamie, when Aurora ran outside in a dress that was too nice for playing in the grass.
She was ten—still too little, still all wild hair and too much energy—but for the first time, I noticed something off.
The way she wasn't as clumsy anymore.
The way she didn't trip over her feet as much.
The way she had grown into her features a little more.
Jamie groaned when he saw her.
"Oh my god, why are you here?"
Aurora ignored him, like always.
Instead, she walked straight up to me, eyes bright.
"Race me."
I blinked. "What?"
"Race me," she repeated. "I bet I can beat you."
I smirked, amused. "Oh, you think so?"
"I know so."
Jamie scoffed. "Dude, don't even waste your time. She's slow as hell."
Aurora whipped around and tackled him.
Right onto the grass.
I stood there, watching them wrestle, realizing for the first time that she wasn't just some annoying little sister.
She was something else.
Something fierce.
Something determined.
Something that was going to be a problem one day.
The problem got worse.
I should've known it would.
By the time I was eighteen, I had already started training for professional fights.
By the time she was fourteen, she had grown into her legs, into her curves, into someone that wasn't just Jamie's little sister anymore.
And I hated that I noticed.
It was at one of Jamie's birthday parties when it really hit me.
I was standing by the pool, messing around with some of our friends, when she walked outside.
Her curls were pulled into a bun.
Her dress was blue, flowing around her legs.
She looked like someone I didn't recognize.
And when she smiled at someone across the yard?
When she laughed and brushed her hand against some guy's arm?
I felt something tighten in my chest.
Jamie nudged me.
"You good?"
I forced my face into something neutral. "Yeah."
He followed my line of sight, then groaned.
"Oh god, please don't tell me you're looking at my sister."
I scoffed. "Shut up."
Jamie narrowed his eyes.
"She's off-limits, man."
I rolled my eyes. "You're delusional."
"Am I?"
I didn't answer.
Because the truth?
Jamie was right.
She was off-limits.
And I had no business thinking otherwise.
Flashback over...
I snap back to reality, realizing I've been staring at her.
She's sitting across from me, chewing on the end of a pencil, eyes narrowed at her Spanish textbook like it personally offended her.
She doesn't even notice that I've been lost in my own head.
That I've been thinking about every version of her that exists in my memory.
That I still remember the way she used to follow me around like a shadow—and the way I used to pretend it annoyed me when it didn't.
That I still remember the first time I saw her as something other than a kid.
And now?
Now she's sitting here, in my house, her lip caught between her teeth as she mutters under her breath, frustrated with the language she's failing.
And I can't stop looking at her.
She catches me staring.
"What?" she asks, suspicious.
I smirk, tilting my head.
"Nothing," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Just thinking about how bad you are at Spanish."
She glares. "I hate you."
I grin.
Because maybe that's true.
But I also know something else.
She's never been able to ignore me.
Not when we were kids.
Not now.
And definitely not anymore.