I Fell in Love with My Best Friend’s Brother

 The first time I met Ethan, I didn’t know he would ruin me.

It was summer, the kind of humid afternoon that made the air feel heavy and restless. I was in Lily’s room—my best friend since we were ten—painting our nails a shade of bubblegum pink while she complained about her phone battery dying.

Then the front door slammed downstairs.

“That’s my brother,” Lily muttered, not looking up. “He’s back from college. Don’t mind him.”

I almost didn’t. But then he walked into the room.

And suddenly, minding him was impossible.

He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. Dark hair damp from the rain, quiet eyes that seemed to notice too much, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re still painting your nails like middle school,” he teased Lily.

“Shut up, Ethan,” she snapped, tossing a pillow at him.

But he didn’t even look at her. His gaze flicked to me for half a second—steady, unreadable. That was all it took. Something inside me shifted, like a door I didn’t know existed had creaked open.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a moment. Just a glance.

But from that day on, nothing felt the same.

***

Ethan was everywhere that summer.

At breakfast, drinking coffee like he was too tired for the world. In the backyard, fixing the old fence with sweat dripping down his neck. On the porch at night, strumming his guitar while his voice carried softly into the air.

And everywhere he went, my heart followed.

It wasn’t supposed to. He was Lily’s brother. There are rules about these things, unwritten but iron-clad. Best friends’ brothers are off-limits. Forbidden. Untouchable.

But rules don’t stop your chest from tightening when he walks into a room. They don’t stop the heat that rises in your cheeks when his hand brushes yours in the kitchen. They don’t stop you from memorizing the sound of his laugh, even though it isn’t meant for you.

“Don’t get ideas,” Lily teased once, catching me staring too long as Ethan played his guitar. “He’s my brother, remember?”

“I’m not,” I lied, but the lie burned on my tongue.

***

It was late July when I lost control.

Lily had fallen asleep on the couch during one of our movie marathons, her head heavy against my shoulder. I should have drifted off too. But I couldn’t, because Ethan walked into the room.

He froze when he saw me awake. For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by Lily’s soft breathing.

“You’re still up?” he whispered.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded, grabbed a glass of water, and then tilted his head toward the door. “Come with me.”

I hesitated. But curiosity was louder than fear, so I followed him outside.

The night sky was wide and endless, stars scattered like spilled sugar across velvet. Ethan lay down on the grass and patted the space beside him. After a moment, I joined him, the damp earth pressing cool against my skin.

We didn’t talk at first. Just breathed. Just existed.

Finally, he said, “You’re not like the girls Lily brings around.”

I turned my head, my heart stumbling. “Is that good or bad?”

His lips curved. “Good.”

The air between us shifted, thickened. I wrapped my arms around myself against the chill, and without a word, he pulled off his hoodie and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, slipping it on. It smelled like cedar and soap and something I couldn’t name. Something that felt like him.

Our hands brushed as I took it. Just the faintest touch. But it set fire to my veins.

For a second, I thought he might take my hand.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he whispered, “Goodnight, dreamer.”

And I whispered back, “Goodnight, Ethan.”

***

The next morning, nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

I couldn’t look at him without remembering the stars. Couldn’t breathe without wondering if he thought of me too. But Ethan stayed quiet, calm, like nothing had happened.

Maybe nothing had. Maybe it was all in my head.

And yet, when his eyes caught mine across the kitchen table, the silence between us said everything words couldn’t.

I was in love with him. Hopelessly, recklessly, impossibly in love with my best friend’s brother.

And I knew it could never be.

***

The summer slipped away faster than I wanted. August crept in, and with it came Ethan’s return to college.

The night before he left, I found him alone on the porch, strumming his guitar. The air smelled of rain, the kind that hadn’t fallen yet.

“You’ll be gone tomorrow,” I said softly.

He looked at me, eyes shadowed. “Yeah.”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating.

“Ethan…” I began, but the words tangled in my throat.

He set the guitar aside, stood, and for a moment, he was so close I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. “Why not?”

“Because it’ll make it real. And we can’t… it’s Lily. You’re her best friend.”

My chest cracked open. “So what do we do?”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “We don’t.”

And then he did the cruelest, kindest thing—he leaned down, pressed his forehead against mine, and for one stolen breath, it felt like the universe belonged to us.

But when I leaned in, desperate for more, he pulled away.

“I’ll see you around, dreamer,” he whispered.

And then he walked inside, leaving me with nothing but the sound of his guitar still vibrating in the air.

***

Ethan left the next morning. Lily waved him off cheerfully, no clue that my heart was breaking beside her.

I stayed silent. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell anyone.

Because some loves aren’t meant to be confessed. Some loves live only in the spaces between words, in stolen glances and almost-touches.

I will always carry him—the boy who gave me his hoodie under the stars, the boy who whispered “dreamer” like it was my name, the boy I couldn’t have.

I fell in love with my best friend’s brother.

And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

 THE END