All Chapters of Hooking up with my best friend’s crush: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The dining room glows warm under the chandelier, plates clinking, laughter bouncing off the walls. Snow dusts the windows outside—fat flakes still falling slow and silent—but in here it’s all heat: roasted meat, garlic, wine, Gwen’s mom’s famous casserole. Family and close friends around the long table. Cozy. Safe. Or so I thought. I’m mid-sip of coffee when the front door opens. Gwen jumps up, squealing. “CK’s here!” I glance up casually. Then freeze. Tall. Broad. Shaved head shining under the light, thick beard framing a jaw I know too well. Dark jacket still dusted with snow. Same heavy eyes that stared down at me last night while I arched and begged. The coffee scalds my tongue. I choke. Hot liquid sprays from my mouth in a messy arc—across the tablecloth, my lap, the plate in front of me. I cough violently, chest seizing, eyes watering like I’ve been punched. Gwen rushes over. “Selene! Oh my god, you okay?” I wave her off, coughing harder, napkin pressed to my mou

Gwen’s bedroom smells like vanilla candles and the faint citrus of her perfume. We’re sprawled on her bed like we used to when we were sixteen—legs tangled under a throw blanket, fairy lights glowing soft above the headboard. Snow has started again outside, tapping the window like impatient fingers. Gwen’s propped on pillows, phone in hand, scrolling through old photos of CK while she talks a mile a minute. “…and remember when he used to sneak us into the community pool after hours? God, he was so reckless back then. Blonde hair flopping everywhere, always grinning like trouble was his middle name.” She laughs, nostalgic and bright. “Now look at him—law school done, beard, all serious and broody. Hotter, though. Don’t you think?” I force a smile, stomach knotted. “Yeah. Different vibe.” She sighs dreamily. “I still can’t believe he’s back. Even if it’s just for a week. I mean, what if this is it? What if he finally sees me as more than the little sister type?” Her words twis

Three long days drag by like torture. Every glance across the table, every accidental brush in the hallway, every time Gwen laughs at something he says—I feel it like a knife twist. But he’s leaving today. Finally. I’m relieved but it’s hard to comprehend how I truly feel, am I really happy his leaving or happy I didn’t get caught. But finally I can breathe again. My chest lifts, feels so light for the first time since that night. No more stolen looks. No more kitchen shadows. No more wondering if Gwen will catch us. We’re all in the foyer. Bags packed. Snow melting outside, sun cutting through the windows in watery gold. Gwen’s mom hugs him tight. “You sure you don’t want breakfast before you go?” He smiles—polite, tired. “I’m actually good. I appreciate the effort.” Hugs go around. Dad claps his shoulder. “Safe drive, kid.” I hang back. When he turns to me, I extend my hand—stiff, formal. No hug. No eye contact. He takes it. His palm is warm. Too warm. Fingers linger one

The party is in full swing by the time we arrive—low lights, bass thumping through the floor, bodies pressed close in the living room of some upscale loft downtown. Music pulses like a heartbeat. Laughter and clinking glasses everywhere. The air smells like expensive cologne, spilled beer, and winter coats still thawing. Gwen’s arm is looped through CK’s as we step inside. She’s glowing—red dress hugging her curves, hair loose, makeup perfect. She’s been talking about this all afternoon: “CK’s friends are the best, Sel. You’ll see.” I’m in the black dress she forced on me—low back, tight in all the wrong places tonight. Every step reminds me how exposed I feel. We push through the crowd. Heads turn. Gwen waves at a few people. CK nods at guys who call his name. I wait until we hit the main room—drinks table in sight, people dancing, a cluster of couches in the corner. Then I slip away. I don’t say anything. Just ease my arm from Gwen’s grip, mutter “bathroom” under my brea

The game spins fast and messy around the round table. Bottles clink. Smoke lights the hair up. Laughter erupts in waves. Shots are poured, tequila burning down throats, lime wedges passed like currency. The music thumps louder now—someone cranked the playlist, bass vibrating through the floorboards. Faces blur at the edges, lights softer, everything funnier than it should be. I’m tipsy—more than tipsy. Warmth spreads from my chest to my fingertips, loosening my limbs, quieting the panic that’s been gnawing at me all night. I laugh when I shouldn’t. Lean into the chaos. Pretend I’m just another girl at a party. Marcus dares Gwen to shotgun a beer. She does it like a champ—foam dripping down her chin, cheering when she finishes. Everyone claps. CK watches her with that small, fond smile, but his knee is still pressed against mine under the table and it still sends a shiver down my spine. Steady. Unmoving. Every time I shift, he follows. I don’t pull away anymore. Someone truths