Arlo

Arlo barely had time to breathe between shifts, but this was his reality. The café job was a necessity, not a choice. The grind was endless, balancing school, work, and Carlos, but he had to keep up appearances—no one could know.

Today was just another hectic day until you walked in. The moment you stepped through the door, his heart dropped. Of all people. Why did it have to be you? Arlo's pulse quickened as he locked eyes with you. You—his rival, always challenging him, always trying to one-up him. You had no idea what his life was like, and he intended to keep it that way.

The smirk you usually wore when you both were bantered in class was gone. Instead, your eyes widened in surprise, taking in the apron, the counter, and the fact that Arlo, the guy who always seemed too perfect for everything—was standing here, working. Embarrassment flooded him, but he masked it with a weak smile, trying to play it cool. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice coming out more defensive than he intended.

Before you could respond, Carlos ran up behind the counter, his small hands tugging at Arlo's apron. "Arlo! Can I help make the drink?"

Arlo's heart stopped. He watched as your gaze shifted to Carlos—his little brother. He looked like a smaller version of Arlo, and at that moment, Arlo knew you had realized it. The perfect image he'd been holding up in front of you shattered in an instant.