T H E O G R E Y

THERE ARE MEMORIES of Sophie that flashes through my mind like lightning-sharp, vivid, and impossible to ignore. I see us back in her hometown, when we were just kids. I'd tease her relentlessly, and she'd throw it right back at me without a second thought. I remember how the other boys used to mock her just because she didn't want to play their stupid games. They thought they could make her feel small. They were wrong.

Sophie Honey was-and still is-a fighter. She didn't cry back then. Not once. Instead, she'd glare at them with those piercing emerald eyes, a silent promise of retaliation. And when she did strike back, it always left its mark.

But now, seeing tears welling in those same eyes, threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks? It doesn't just surprise me-it infuriates me.

Tears. For a boy.

Let them fall, and he won't just get a black eye. I promise that.

This shouldn't even be my problem. Ryan didn't ask me to keep an eye on his little sister. He didn't need to. Because even if Sophie hates my guts-and she's made that crystal clear-I'll still show up when she needs me.

For old times' sake, of course.

Her eyes widen when she realizes I'm here. The moment stretches, heavy with tension. I know she hates the fact that out of all the people who could've seen her like this, it had to be me.

"What..." Her voice wavers, her lips trembling as she fights to steady herself. "What are you doing here?" She blinks quickly, trying to chase the tears away. When she steps back, I notice the space between us for the first time. We were closer than I realized. Too close, apparently.

She glances back toward the party, like she's ready to bolt.

I step forward instinctively. "Just needed some quiet." It's not a lie. I'm not in the mood for this party, though I couldn't tell you why.

She nods slowly, her fingers twisting the hem of her top. "Okay then. I'll leave you to it." Her voice is brittle, her expression closed off. She turns to leave, but I grab her wrist before I even think about it. She freezes, then glares back at me with barely contained anger.

"Soph-"

"Let me go, Grey." Her voice is sharp, her use of my last name deliberate. She knows I hate it. Normally, it would piss me off. But right now, I don't care. Instead, I take in her face-the way her lips are raw from biting them too hard, the deep flush in her cheeks that betrays her embarrassment.

She looks hurt. And it kills me to see her like this.

I let go of her wrist, stepping back like I know she wants. I expect her to leave without another word, but she stays. Her eyes soften, just for a moment, like she's surprised I actually listened. Like she expected me to push her, to demand answers. But I don't need her to explain.

I already saw everything.

He was so close to kissing her. Just inches away. Then some guy showed up, telling him another girl was waiting for him. I'll never forget the look on Sophie's face-how the spark of expectation in her eyes flickered and died at the mention of that other girl's name. Like she hadn't seen it coming.

I don't know why, but I was relieved when he didn't kiss her. Maybe because throughout this week I've heard her laugh on the phone with him, heard the way her voice softens and grows shy when she says his name. She must've thought he liked her back. But I know my kind. Guys like him are always the same-selfish, careless, and cruel.

She stares at me now, her lips parting slightly. My gaze drops to them before I can stop myself. Damn it. Why does she have to have lips like that? Full, soft, and completely distracting. I curse myself for thinking about them now, of all times.

"Theo?" A voice cuts through the moment, pulling my attention away from her. I look over Sophie's shoulder to see one of the girls Jaxon introduced me to earlier.

"Oh... hey..." Shit. What's her name again?

She glances between me and Sophie, her expression curious, maybe even smug. I can already tell what she's thinking, but she says it anyway.

"Am I interrupting-"

"Oh, no." Sophie shakes her head quickly, her tone sharp. "No, you're not." The way she says it-cold, dismissive-makes my jaw tighten.

She looks at me one last time, her eyes full of judgment, and I swear, it's starting to annoy me.

She storms past the girl without so much as a glance, and the urge to call her back grips me like a vice. But what's the point? Sophie is stubborn-always has been, always will be.

"Hey."

I turn toward the voice, catching sight of the girl I'd almost forgotten was standing there. Her hopeful gaze makes me inwardly groan. Can't she take a hint?

"What are you doing here?" I ask, sharper than I intended.

"Oh... um, the guys are looking for you," she stammers, shifting awkwardly. "They want to head to Jaxon's house. Are you coming too?" Her feet inch closer like she's trying to bridge some invisible gap, but I'm not in the mood for this.

"Uh, no. Tell them I'm not feeling well-headache," I lie effortlessly, without a shred of regret. My focus is elsewhere. I have a heartbroken girl on the loose, and God knows what Sophie might do in her current state.

"Are you sure?" she presses.

I nod curtly. "Yeah. Just tell them I'll catch up tomorrow." I don't wait for her reply. My feet are already moving, my eyes scanning the crowded room for Sophie.

She hesitates, her lips parting like she's about to argue, but I'm already moving past her. I don't even wait for her response. My focus is singular-Sophia.

I spot her at the drink table, her fingers hovering over the selection like she's debating her next move. She reaches for a bottle, and I immediately recognize it: Satan's Love. Of course, she'd pick the strongest one. My jaw tightens as I watch her pour a generous amount into a plastic cup. She hesitates for a moment, biting her lip like she's trying to resist. Then, as if deciding resistance is futile, she downs it in one go.

"For fuck's sake," I mutter under my breath, already moving toward her but gets pulled back by Lydia.

"Theo!" She beams up at me, a plastic cup clutched in her hand. She sways slightly, already tipsy. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," I say distractedly, my focus locked on Sophie. She downs the entire cup in one go, her throat working like she's determined to forget every ounce of pain she's feeling. Then she pours another.

With the amount she's taking, she'll be drunk in seconds.

"Sorry, Lydia, I've gotta be somewhere." I brush past Lydia with a rushed excuse.

By the time I reach Sophie, She's mid-pour for round two when I snatch the cup from her hand. Her head whips toward me, eyes blazing with confusion that quickly morphs into anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snaps, ready to attack me.

"What's wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snap, keeping my voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. Not that anyone would notice-half the room is too drunk or too busy grinding on the dance floor to care. "Are you seriously trying to get wasted?"

"Yes," Sophia bites out, her voice as sharp as broken glass. She lunges for the cup, but I pull it out of her reach.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she shouts, her anger crackling like a live wire. Her voice trembles slightly, though, and I catch the faintest flicker of pain beneath the bravado.

I smirk, not because I find any of this funny, but because it's the only way to mask the knot tightening in my chest. "I will. Trust me, Sophie. But I'm not going to stand here and watch you make a fool of yourself."

That hits her. I see it in the way her face freezes for a fraction of a second, like my words have drawn blood. But then she scoffs, shaking her head like she couldn't care less.

"I already am a fool, Theo, so trust me this is nothing compared to that." She reaches for the cup again, but when I don't relent, she abandons it altogether and grabs the bottle instead. I move just as quickly, snatching it from her hand.

"God, you're such a fucking control freak!" She shouts, her glare so it hard that it could burn holes through steel if possible.

"And you're a mess," I counter, my voice low but firm. "So forgive me if I'd rather stop you from doing something you'll regret in the morning."

For a moment, she just stares at me, her chest heaving and her lips parted as if she has more to say. But instead of words, she swallows hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. And in that silence, I realize just how much she's hurting-and just how much I hate seeing her like this.

"You need to calm down. Sophie..."

She groans, throwing her hands in the air. "For the last time, it's Sophia! S-O-P-H-I-A!" She jabs a finger into my chest with each letter, her nails biting through the fabric of my shirt. "And you are the last person I need to hear this from, so do me a favor and just leave me alone."

Her words hit harder than I care to admit. Does she really hate me that much?

I stay silent, and she takes it as her cue to leave, storming toward the dance floor where her friends are. My feet itch to follow her, but a hand grabs my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

"Theo, what are you doing?" Lydia's voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts. Her concerned brown eyes search my face, but I can barely focus on her. "Why are you shouting on Sophie?"

I sigh heavily, placing the cup and bottle on the table as my thoughts race. Should I tell Lydia?

"She..." I start, hesitating. Is it really the right thing to do? Sophia doesn't like me, not even a little, and if Lydia decides to talk to her, she might accidentally make things worse.

"I just don't want her drinking," I mutter. It's not a complete lie.

One of the reasons I was so shocked to see Sophia here in the first place was because of the alcohol. This is a campus party, full of guys just waiting to pounce on any girl too drunk to know better. Sophia, for all her stubbornness, hasn't spent much time in the city. I know how curiosity works at her age, but this-this isn't harmless experimenting.

The thought of something happening to her makes my jaw clench, and for a moment, I have to force myself to let the tension go.

"Oh, Theo," Lydia chuckles, rolling her eyes. "No wonder she snapped at you. Stop trying to play her dad. This is a party; it's normal to drink."

"She's nineteen," I argue, trying to find an excuse but I know Lydia, she won't believe me.

Lydia scoffs. "So? Nineteen's old enough. And let's be real-neither of us waited until we were her age to start drinking the 'strong stuff.'"

She's right. Totally right. But the idea of Sophia drinking-of her being here, surrounded by people who could easily take advantage of her-sits in my chest like a stone.

"I know," I admit, my voice quieter now. "She can drink if she wants, I just..." I trail off with a frustrated huff. My head pounds from the tension, my body sagging under the weight of all this unnecessary drama. I hate it. Hate it so much. And yet, here I am, tangled in it anyway.

My eyes scan the room until I spot her on the dance floor. She's swaying to the beat, her blonde hair bouncing as she shakes her head from side to side. A cup dangles from her hand, and she laughs at something her friend whispers in her ear, her face lighting up in a way that makes her look so... free.

It's infuriating and beautiful at the same time.

"Now I get why Jaxon's been going on about you," Lydia says, pulling me from my thoughts. She's watching Sophia too, a knowing look in her eyes as she takes another sip of her drink. "You care about her."

I scoff, trying to laugh it off. "Of course I care about her. She's my childhood friend."

Well, I see it that way. Sophia, on the other hand...

Lydia shakes her head. "Nah, not that kind of caring."

That makes me pause. My brows knit together as my heart thuds a little faster. "What kind of caring, then?" I ask, trying to sound indifferent, but my voice betrays me. It's almost... desperate.

She smirks, clearly enjoying this. "And why should I tell you? That'd spoil the fun-and Jaxon would kill me."

I blink, confused. "What the hell has Jaxon been saying about me and Sophia?"

Lydia shrugs with a grin. "Don't overthink it. You'll figure it out eventually. But you're slow, Theo, which makes it all the more entertaining." She giggles, glancing at Sophia again before turning back to me. "I'd invite you to come with us to Jaxon's, but..." She smirks knowingly. "Looks like you've got your hands full."

I chuckle dryly at her comment, too tired to argue. "You have no idea. And thanks for the cookies, by the way. I needed that nap."

She winks at me, then blows a playful air-kiss before walking away.

Dragging a stool closer, I drop into it with a sigh and grab a bottle of something stronger than I probably need. My eyes stay locked on Sophia as she moves on the dance floor, laughing, dancing, living like she doesn't have a care in the world.

If she wants to let loose and have her fun, fine. It's her life, her choice. But when she's done, I'm taking her home. No arguments. No exceptions.

●●●

Few hours later, the party is starting to thin out, the thumping bass now softer as more people shuffle toward the door. Groups of friends are laughing and stumbling their way out, leaving behind scattered cups and a haze of alcohol and sweat in the air. I take a swig from the bottle in my hand, eyes still trained on Sophia. She's slumped on the couch with her friends, her body language speaking of defiance and exhaustion all at once.

The brunette girl with her stands and tugs on Sophia's hand, trying to get her up, but Sophia shakes her head and sinks back into the couch, resting against her other friend's shoulder.

I take it as my cue. It's time to get her out of here.

I make my way through the scattered crowd toward them, my footsteps purposeful. "Do you guys need a hand?" I ask, keeping my voice light but steady.

The brunette girl looks up at me, her eyes wide with relief. "Oh, thank goodness." She turns to Sophia, her tone coaxing but firm. "Okay, Soph. Theo's here. Let's get you home."

I'm not surprised she knows my name-friends of Sophia would. Still, I make a mental note to know theirs. "Oh, um, are you guys friends of Sophia?"

They both nod in unison, their concern for her obvious.

"I'm Blair," the brunette says quickly, nodding toward herself. Then she gestures to the other girl. "And that's Alex." Alex nods at that.

I nod back in acknowledgment. "Thanks for looking out for her. I'll take it from here."

Turning to Sophia, I crouch slightly to her level. "Okay, Sophie. Let's head home." I use the one way she would know it's me that's here and it works.

Her response is immediate, her voice slow and slurred with alcohol. "You really love annoying me, Grey." She doesn't even open her eyes, but the faint scoff tells me she's still very much herself under the haze of liquor.

I grin, my tone teasing but warm. "I'll always annoy you, Sophie."

That gets her attention. Her eyes flutter open, locking onto mine. Her gaze, soft and glassy, catches me off guard-it's rare to see her like this, so unguarded. "I'm hurt," she murmurs, her voice small and trembling, audible only to me. "I'm hurt, and I don't like it."

The feeling is mutual.

I sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and tucking it gently behind her ear. My thumb lingers briefly against her temple, feeling her body shiver slightly under my touch. "I don't like it either, chap," I say softly, low enough that she would hear me.

At that, she smiles-a small, fleeting smile that feels like a flicker of the girl I remember. "It's been a while since you called me that," she whispers..

I find myself smiling back. "Did you miss it?"

She shakes her head lazily, her golden hair falling over her shoulder. "Nah. I prefer what you call me now."

I chuckle softly, my chest tightening at the sight of her like this. "You're impossible, Sophie. Come on, let's get you home."

She shakes her head sluggishly, licking her lips as though she's trying to remember how to speak. "I'm too... toooo... tired to stand, and my head hurts," she whines, her voice dipping into a pout that makes her look like a sad puppy. It takes everything in me not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Her words are slurred, drawn out as if her brain and mouth aren't quite in sync. She leans heavily against the couch, swaying slightly even while sitting. Her glassy eyes blink slowly, unfocused, and she raises a hand to her temple like she's trying to steady herself.

"No problem, I'll carry you," I say firmly, standing up and gripping her shoulders gently. She staggers when I try to help her to her feet, her legs wobbling like she's forgotten how they work.

"Nooo, I'm too big," she cries out dramatically, her voice breaking into a mix of a laugh and a hiccup.

Behind us, I hear muffled laughter from her friends.

"Oh my God, I need to get Sophie drunk more often," Blair chuckles.

Alex elbows her lightly, rolling her eyes but smirking all the same. "Alright, let's leave this to Theo. Tell Sophie we'll call her tomorrow, it was nice meeting you." she says, grabbing Blair's arm and guiding her away.

Before I can respond, Sophie lurches backward, nearly collapsing onto the couch again. I react quickly, catching her by the waist before she hits the cushions.

"Hold on, love," I murmur, steadying her as I crouch slightly and pat my back. "Come on, hop on. I'll carry you."

Her brows knit together in confusion, her lips parting as if she's about to argue. "But... but I can't," she stammers, blinking up at me like a lost child. "I'll fall."

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. "No, you won't. I promise, Sophie. I've got you."

She squints at me suspiciously, her drunken brain clearly struggling to process the situation. "You're lying. You'll drop me," she accuses, wagging a finger in my direction as if she's caught me in some elaborate scheme.

I crouch a little lower, making myself more accessible. "I've never dropped you when we were kids so why would I now?"

Her lips purse, and she tilts her head to one side, as if deliberating deeply. Then, in the most serious voice I've ever heard from her, she whispers, "Promise?"

I smile, placing a hand over my heart. "I swear on every embarrassing nickname I've ever called you."

That does it. She bursts into a giggle that quickly turns into a hiccup, clutching my shoulder for balance. "Fine," she slurs, swaying dangerously as she leans forward. "But if you drop me, I'll... I'll never forgive you, Grey."

"Noted," I reply with a grin, turning slightly to help her onto my back. She wraps her arms loosely around my shoulders, her weight settling against me.

Once she's secure, I straighten up slowly, adjusting her so she doesn't slide off. "See? Told you I've got you."

Her head drops against my shoulder, and she lets out a contented sigh. "You're warm," she mumbles, her voice soft and hazy.

My lips twitch into a smile as a soft snore escapes her immediately, and I nearly laugh, already imagining the murderous glare she'd give me if she ever found out about this.

"Grey,"

"Hm," I answer, already outside as I search around for my car.

"Grey..."

"Hm." I hum once more, somehow starting to not hate the way my last name sounded on her tongue.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

I already know what's the apology is for, so I smile.

"It's okay, love."

●●●

THIS IS JUST SO CUTEEE 💓