Nobody forgets their first kiss.
At least, I don't think they do.
Even if you were only five years old. Even if it was quick and clumsy and barely counted. Even if the boy you kissed had grass stains on his jeans and a dramatic scrape on his knee.
Especially when that boy was your older brother's best friend.
I'm standing in the middle of our apartment living room, surrounded by half-open boxes and the faint smell of new paint, wondering why that memory decided to resurface today of all days.
Maybe it's because I'm eighteen now. Officially an adult. Officially in college. Officially not a little kid anymore.
Or maybe it's because Logan is down the hallway arguing with Daniel about where to put the couch.
"You said left wall," Logan's voice carries easily through the apartment.
"I said near the window," Daniel shoots back.
"That's the left wall."
"That's not the left wall."
I roll my eyes.
Some things never change.
The apartment isn't huge. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. Small kitchen. Living room barely big enough to hold the couch they're currently fighting over. It wasn't exactly my idea to move in with them, but Daniel insisted.
"You're not living alone your first year," he'd said. "It's safer this way."
Safer??
Like I'm fragile glass.
Like I'm still a kid.
I drag one of my boxes toward the hallway and push open the door to my room. It's small but bright, with a window that overlooks the campus courtyard. Students are already moving around outside, laughing, carrying boxes, starting their new lives.
I set the box down on my bed and sit for a second, letting the quiet settle around me.
That's when the memory hits fully.
The sun had been brighter that day. I remember that much. Too bright. The kind that makes everything feel golden and important.
Logan had fallen while playing football with Daniel in the yard. I'd been sitting on the steps with my doll, watching them like I always did. Daniel had laughed when Logan hit the ground.
"Get up, man. It's not even bad."
But Logan had stayed down, clutching his knee like he'd just survived a battlefield.
I'd run over without thinking.
"Are you okay?" I'd asked, my tiny hands hovering uselessly near his arm.
He'd looked up at me with that mischievous grin. Even back then, he had that look the one that meant he was about to say something ridiculous.
"It hurts," he'd said dramatically. "I need something to make it better."
I'd frowned at the scrape. It wasn't bleeding much.
"What?"
"A kiss," he'd said simply. "That's what people do in movies. It makes it better."
I remember hesitating. Not because it felt wrong. Just because I didn't understand it.
Then I leaned down and pressed a quick, awkward peck against his lips.
It lasted maybe a second.
He'd grinned like he'd won something.
And I'd run back to the steps, my cheeks burning, pretending nothing had happened.
Daniel never noticed.
But Logan had looked at me differently for the rest of the day.
Not romantic though just… aware.
A knock on my door pulls me back to the present.
I look up.
Logan is leaning against the frame like he owns it.
He's taller now. Obviously!
Broader shoulders, messier hair.
The boy from that memory is gone, replaced by someone sharper, older. His T-shirt stretches slightly across his chest, and there's a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
"Spacing out already, Bunny?" he asks.
There it is.
Bunny.
He hasn't called me that in years.
Or maybe he has, and I just forgot how it sounds.
My stomach does something small and traitorous.
"Don't call me that," I say automatically.
A lie.
He smirks. "You'll always be Bunny."
"I'm eighteen."
"Still Bunny."
I cross my arms, trying to ignore the way his eyes scan my room before settling back on me. "Do you need something?"
"Daniel says we're ordering food. You want some?
"Sure."
He nods once but doesn't leave immediately. His gaze lingers a second longer than necessary.
It's subtle, almost nothing.
But I notice.
And suddenly I'm hyperaware of the fact that we're living under the same roof now.
Same kitchen, same couch, same thin hallwayand the same thin walls.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You look like you just remembered something embarrassing."
Heat crawls up my neck.
If only he knew.
"I didn't," I said quickly.
He raises an eyebrow.
I hate that he can read me so easily.
"Relax," he says after a second. "College isn't that scary."
"I'm not scared."
"You should be. Daniel's already planning your schedule."
I groan. "He better not."
"Oh, he is."
Logan pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me. Close, too close. The room suddenly feels smaller.
He reaches past me to grab the empty box on my bed.
His arm brushes mine accidentally
Probably.
But my breath catches anyway.
He doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he does and chooses not to react, I cant tell.
"Living with us won't be that bad," he says casually.
Us?
"You mean living under Daniel's dictatorship?"
He laughs softly. "You'll survive."
He heads for the door, box in hand.
Then pauses.
Glances back at me.
"For what it's worth," he says, his voice quieter now, "you're not five anymore."
The words hit harder than they should.
Before I can respond, he's gone.
I stand there for a long moment staring at the doorway.
What did that mean?
Down the hall, Daniel's voice booms again.
"Bubu! Come help us decide on pizza toppings!"
Bubu.
Safe and familiar.
I step into the hallway and find them in the living room. Daniel is sitting on the arm of the couch, scrolling through his phone. Logan is standing by the window.
They look like they always have.
Like a team.
I slide onto the couch.
"Pepperoni," I say.
"Basic," Logan comments.
"I like basic."
He looks at me again.
That same look.
Not teasing.
Daniel doesn't notice.
He's too busy muttering about extra cheese.
The three of us sit there arguing about toppings like this is normal.
Like nothing has shifted.
But I feel, the difference and awareness.
The fact that I'm not six anymore.
The fact that he isn't just my brother's best friend.
And the fact that living together might make it impossible to ignore.
Later that night, after the pizza boxes are stacked in the trash and Daniel is already half-asleep in their shared room, I pad quietly into the kitchen for water.
The apartment is dim.
Only the light above the stove is on.
Logan is leaning against the counter.
Alone.