Chapter One

Sabrina's POV

There I was, dreaming about someone telling me how beautiful I was, when reality decided to ruin everything.

My peaceful dream was interrupted by the annoying sound of my window rattling. I groaned, already knowing who was responsible.

Of course. Peyton.

"Peyton! Don't come in yet! I'm not wearing a bra, and I haven't even showered!" I shouted at him, scrambling to sit up in bed.

But, of course, my protests fell on deaf ears.

The window slid open, and in came Peyton Meyer, my best friend, personal nuisance, and the most shameless person I had ever met.

"Sab, you say that every single day. You really need to come up with a new excuse, you know." He grinned, brushing off his shirt as if he hadn't just climbed through someone else's window. "Not that it would make a difference. Nothing could stop the great Peyton Meyer from sneaking into his best friend's room every morning."

He gestured grandly at himself, as though expecting applause.

I stared at him, utterly unimpressed.

"Are you seriously that full of yourself? Could you try being humble for once in your life?"

"Me? Full of myself?" He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Remember how we met, Sab? Do you remember? Of course, you do. You probably dream about it every night."

He finished with a wink, looking far too pleased with himself.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck.

"GET OUT!"

I shoved him toward the door and slammed it shut behind him, locking it before he could make another ridiculous comment.

His laughter echoed from the other side.

"Love you too, Sab! I'll get breakfast ready!"

I couldn't help laughing as I leaned against the door.

Honestly, this was how most of my mornings started. A little chaos, a lot of insults, and Peyton being Peyton.

And somehow, after all these years, we still hadn't gotten tired of each other.

I smiled to myself as a familiar memory crept into my mind.

The memory of how it all began.

— FLASHBACK —

Seventh grade.

Back then, I was about as far from popular as a girl could get. I was awkward, painfully shy, and desperate to be noticed by the cool kids.

Looking back, I honestly wanted to grab my younger self by the shoulders and tell her that popularity wasn't worth half the trouble she was willing to go through for it.

But, unfortunately, younger me had a mind of her own.

So, when one of my classmates invited me to a party, I took it as my chance to finally make a name for myself.

The house was crowded, the music was loud, and everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged.

Everyone except me.

I was standing awkwardly near the snacks when I noticed a group of my classmates gathering around a familiar game.

Truth or dare.

This was it. My chance to prove that I could be fun, too.

Without giving myself enough time to chicken out, I walked over and joined them.

A boy named Charlie immediately turned toward me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"You! Blondie! Truth or dare?"

My heart began pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.

"D-Dare," I answered, somehow managing to sound braver than I felt.

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Okay."

He glanced around the room, searching for something—or someone—to use against me. Then his gaze landed on a blond boy standing a short distance away.

A wicked grin spread across his face.

"See that blondie over there?" He pointed at the boy, then at the closet down the hallway. "Take him into that closet and kiss him. You have ten minutes. Take your time!"

The others burst into laughter.

I swallowed hard.

This is my chance to become popular.

But my first kiss?

I hesitated.

Never mind. Let's just get this over with.

I marched toward the blond boy, grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, and practically dragged him down the hallway.

The moment we reached the closet, I pushed the door open and flicked on the light.

The boy immediately recoiled.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm fragile," he pleaded, frowning at me.

I blinked.

What?

For a moment, I just stared at him. Then the absurdity of the situation hit me, and I almost laughed.

"Hey, I'm really sorry for dragging you in here," I blurted out. "I promise I'm not usually this weird. The truth is, I just really want to be popular. When they started playing truth or dare, I joined because I wanted them to think I was cool. And, well..." I gestured helplessly between us. "This was the dare. I'm really sorry."

He studied me for a moment before his expression softened into a smile.

"But why do you want to be popular?" he asked. "You shouldn't care so much about what other people think of you. What matters is what you think of yourself."

I stared at him, caught off guard by his words.

"Don't worry," he added with a reassuring smile. "I think you're really cool."

Something about the way he said it made me believe him.

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't laughing at me.

Whatever it was, his words somehow made the nervous knot in my stomach loosen.

"That's... actually a really intelligent thing to say," I admitted. "You're right. I shouldn't care so much about what they think of me. I feel kind of ridiculous for doing this now."

He grinned proudly.

"Thanks! I got it from a movie. Memorized the whole thing, actually. I'm just really happy I finally got to say it to someone!"

I burst out laughing.

And just like that, the awkwardness between us began to fade.

"Don't be sad, though," he continued, suddenly looking curious. "What was the dare, anyway?"

My laughter died instantly.

Oh, no.

"Well..." I looked down at my shoes, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "I've already done the first part."

"And the second part?"

I glanced at him, desperately wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

"I'm supposed to... kiss you."

His eyes widened slightly before he looked away, his cheeks turning pink.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

We stood there in silence for a few seconds.

Then he cleared his throat.

"Well, that would actually be pretty cool. I mean, I haven't had my first kiss yet."

He said it so casually that I almost missed the way his ears had turned red.

I stared at him.

"Seriously?"

He nodded.

I slowly raised my hand.

"Because, honestly... same here."

For a moment, we simply looked at each other.

Then we burst out laughing.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed that hard, especially with someone I'd only just started talking to.

"Wanna kiss?" he finally suggested, trying to sound casual. "You know, so we can get this over with?"

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile.

"I don't even know your name."

He straightened up immediately, looking far too proud of himself.

"Peyton Meyer. I live on Orchard Street. I'm not telling you exactly where, though, because you might stalk me."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

I gasped.

"I knew a boy named Peyton who lived on Orchard Street when we were little!" I exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders. "Wait a second. Are you Mrs. Meyer's son? You're that Peyton! You finally came back!"

Before he could answer, I threw my arms around him in the tightest hug I could manage.

He stumbled backward, letting out a surprised laugh before wrapping his arms around me.

"Whoa! Why are you so happy to see me? It's only been two years!" he asked. "What happened while I was gone?"

I pulled back just enough to look at him.

"Your mom was really sad when you left," I explained. "So I'd visit your house and hang out with her whenever I could. I tried to keep her company and make her feel better."

His expression softened.

"I had to stay with my dad," he said quietly. "It was hard for me, too."

For the first time since we'd entered the closet, he looked genuinely vulnerable.

"Thank you for keeping my mom company while I was gone."

I smiled at him.

"Of course."

Then I remembered something important.

The dare.

I glanced at my watch.

My eyes widened.

"We only have sixty seconds left!"

Peyton followed my gaze before looking back at me. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then he stepped closer.

He gently cupped my face in his hands, his cheeks still dusted with pink, and leaned toward me.

I closed my eyes.

And then—

His lips met mine.

It was brief, sweet, and a little awkward. Our noses nearly bumped, and I was pretty sure neither of us knew what we were doing.

But somehow, it was perfect.

When we pulled apart, Peyton was grinning.

"So?" he asked. "How was our first kiss?"

I covered my face with my hands.

"Peyton!"

"What? I'm just asking!"

I peeked at him through my fingers, and we both started laughing again.

He reached for my hand.

"Ready to run away and stop caring about what they think?"

I looked at his outstretched hand, then back at him.

For some reason, his question felt like more than just an escape from a stupid party game.

It felt like an invitation.

So I took his hand.

"Let's go."

The closet door swung open just as Charlie and the others came looking for us.

They stared.

I could hear their surprised whispers and see the curious looks on their faces, but for once, I didn't care.

Neither did Peyton.

Hand in hand, we ran straight out of the house and toward the nearby park.

We collapsed onto the grass, laughing breathlessly beneath a sky full of stars.

For a while, we simply lay there, looking up at the night sky and pointing out constellations neither of us could properly identify.

It was peaceful.

No judgment. No pressure to impress anyone. No pretending to be someone we weren't.

Just me and the boy who had somehow turned the most embarrassing night of my life into one of my favorite memories.

That night, I didn't become popular.

I gained something much better.

A best friend.

And, although neither of us knew it back then, we were about to become a pretty permanent part of each other's lives.

— END OF FLASHBACK —

Who would've thought that, after all these years, we'd still be together?

Peyton and I practically knew everything about each other. We knew each other's favorite foods, embarrassing childhood stories, family drama, and all the little things most people wouldn't even notice.

Our families had practically become one big, chaotic family of their own.

And as for our glow-up?

Let's just say we went from being the least popular kids in school to being the kind of people everyone seemed to know.

Not that we cared much about popularity anymore.

We had outgrown that phase—or, at least, I liked to think we had.

Of course, there was one thing I still took seriously.

Our studies.

And since Peyton was my best friend, I made it my personal mission to ensure he took them seriously, too.

Someone had to keep that boy in check.

After finishing my morning routine, I finally made my way downstairs, where the smell of freshly prepared breakfast greeted me.

Peyton was already seated at the table, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had broken into my room less than an hour ago.

He glanced up as I entered.

"You finally decided to grace us with your presence!" he announced dramatically. "After an entire hour, too. What were you doing up there, writing a novel?"

I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

"Some of us actually care about looking presentable, unlike certain people who think climbing through windows is an acceptable way to greet someone."

He placed a hand over his heart.

"I'm hurt, Sab. Deeply hurt."

"Good."

He slid a plate toward me, grinning.

"Here. Eat with me so we can get to school and face the horrors of life together."

I picked up my fork, shaking my head as a smile tugged at my lips.

"Honestly, Peyton, one day I'm going to throw you out of that window."

He leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

"Sure you will, Sab. Sure you will."

And just like that, another ordinary morning with Peyton Meyer began.

Little did I know that ordinary mornings wouldn't stay ordinary forever.