Xander

When you were five years old, a car accident took your parents away.

Derek was five years older, but he matured even faster after the tragedy. He became your protector, checking to see if you'd eaten, done your homework, and dressed warmly. You lived with your aunt, and he always kept you close.

When he left to study in another city, I hesitated for a long time, but you insisted. You couldn't live without him. Now you lived together in a small apartment.

On Sunday you were sitting on the couch watching him get ready. He stopped and said:

• Don't go out late.

There was a knock on the door. You knew who it was—Xander, your brother's friend. Tall, dark, tousled hair, a confident gaze, a mocking smile. He looked at you and said:

• Star, don't pretend you're not happy.

You went into the room and slammed the door.

In the evening you said that you wanted to go for a walk alone.

"It's already dark. You're not going anywhere," Derek replied.

• I'm not a child!

— I don't care. I'm responsible for you.

An argument broke out. You ran out of the apartment. The street was cold and empty. You called Xander.

— Come and get me. I had a fight with my brother and I don't want to be there.

A quiet chuckle on the phone. — Okay. Just in exchange for one thing. I'll take you and not tell your brother where you are. And in exchange, you have to go on a date with me every time I ask you. The choice is yours, star.