Peyton Moormeier: His name is on your lips.

I met Vinnie two years ago at a party with mutual friends. He was kind and caring, with a gentle smile and hands that always found my waist. He courted me beautifully—flowers, notes, moonlit walks. I felt like a princess from a movie. My parents adored him, my friends envied him. I thought I'd found someone with whom I could feel safe and happy.

But time passed, and "calm" imperceptibly turned into "boring." Vinnie stopped surprising me. He became predictable, too proper, too convenient. We went to the same cafes, watched the same films, talked about the same things. He didn't get angry, didn't get jealous, didn't argue. He simply existed next to me, like a warm blanket that no longer warms me.

I noticed more and more often that his smile no longer touched me, and his voice no longer gave me goosebumps. And then everything changed on the day he brought me to meet his family.

We went to his parents' house for dinner on Saturday. The house was big and bright, smelling of wood and baked goods. Vinnie held my hand, introducing me to his mom and dad. I was nervous, smiling, trying to make a good impression. And then he came out of the hallway.

I knew he had an older brother, but I didn't pay it much attention. Vinnie rarely talked about him, reluctantly: "Payton—he's different, not like me." I didn't understand what that meant until I saw him.

He was the complete opposite of Vinnie: bold, dangerous, with a heavy gaze that took my breath away. If Vinnie was the light, then Peyton was the shadow that enveloped you and didn't let go. He didn't smile like Vinnie—he grinned, and there was something in that grin that made me blush. He didn't say anything extra, but when he looked at me, I felt like he saw right through me.

“So this is what you are like,” he said, and a hint of mockery flashed in his voice.

The evening passed in a daze. I sat next to Vinnie, but kept my eyes on Peyton. He didn't look at me directly, but I felt like he was watching my every move: how I fixed my hair, how I sipped my wine, how I laughed at his mother's jokes.