Page 18

Chapter 18

Amelia

I 'm staring up at the bar, and I'm not entirely sure why. My gaze fixes on Tobias and Dani, catching every little detail of their interaction like some kind of masochistic hawk. She's leaning into him, her head tilted just so, and her eyes practically sparkle with that all-too-obvious look that says, I want your dick, and you're going to give it to me . It's painfully clear what she wants, and the thought makes my stomach twist, though I can't quite place why.

But that's a lie.

A big fat fucking lie.

I'm jealous; I've always been jealous, but lately, it's like the feeling has taken on a life of its own. I used to be able to brush it off—pretend it didn't matter. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore, especially with the way Tobias looks at me sometimes—like there's a whole conversation happening between us without a single word spoken.

"Tequila okay?" Tobias's voice snaps me out of my jealous spiral, and suddenly he's there, right in front of me, tray in hand.

"I was expecting worse," I reply, picking up the salt with a smirk, my eyes meeting his. I lift the back of my left hand and let my tongue run slowly over the skin, wetting it for the salt, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his smile falter. His eyes narrow, darkening just a fraction, and I have to bite back my grin as I sprinkle the salt onto my skin. I pass the shaker over without meeting his gaze because God knows I don't need to see Tobias licking anything right now—unless it's me.

My thoughts go from zero to sinful in half a second, heat rushing low in my body as I imagine him between my thighs while I grip his hair and ride his stupidly perfect face until I forget my own name.

I'm either a little too drunk or way too needy because right now, every reckless part of me is ready to let the devil on my shoulder take over and claim exactly what she wants. The desperate little slut practically leans in close, whispering, "What's the worst that could happen?" —like she doesn't already know the shitstorm that would follow.

We both lift our drinks, knocking back the tequila in one smooth go and immediately reach for the lime slices, sucking them into our mouths. The sourness hits hard, and I wince, my whole face feeling like it's trying to fold in on itself as Tobias laughs next to me.

"You handled the tequila better," he teases, grinning as he watches me struggle through the lime.

"Anything sour makes me feel like my eyeballs are about to fall out of my head."

"Remember that time we were in Cyprus? That guy, Alberto—he worked at the hotel and served you grapefruit every single morning."

"Oh my god, Alberto!" I exclaim, as memories of the guy with long dark curls and even darker eyes come rushing back to me.

I was only fifteen, and our parents had taken us on that trip a few months after my dad passed. Most days, Tobias and I were left to entertain ourselves while our parents went off doing whatever adults did on vacation. We pretty much had the run of the place, and back then, it felt like everything I needed—freedom, space, and a little taste of a world that was just ours.

"I don't know why I ever told him I liked grapefruit, considering I can't stand it."

Tobias laughs, his eyes gleaming with the memory. "And you ate it every day, even though you practically drowned it in about fifty teaspoons of sugar."

That trip, those small routines, and the way Tobias was just there meant more than I could say. Back then, he was the one person who made the grief feel manageable. He was my quiet warrior, the one who knew exactly how to help me fight the sadness I felt. He'd distract me with his ridiculous stories, which made no sense and were designed solely to drag me out of the darkness. And when he no longer had the words, when there was nothing left to say, he'd sit quietly with me on the beach, letting me exist in my pain without trying to fix it.

Those moments and memories weren't just comforting. They helped me survive. And the fact that he made me feel seen in a way no one else ever has… That's the kind of shit that leaves a mark you never really get rid of.

"I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and I was fifteen. I was just happy that a boy was even looking at me."

I'd never had a boyfriend back then, never been the girl anyone looked twice at. Then, almost overnight, puberty decided to show up fashionably late when I hit sixteen.

I went from the girl who blended into the background to someone who was seen. While I wouldn't claim to stand out in a crowd, I felt good about myself. Confident, even. It was like I'd finally grown into myself, and there was a surprising sense of relief in that. Sure, there are things I'd like to change, but I'm twenty-two, andI'm here, breathing, living, and doing what I love. I'm not about to waste precious time obsessing over every little detail.

If there's a day when I want to dress up, throw on some makeup, and style my hair, then great—I'll let myself feel beautiful. But if I'm in sweats with my face bare and my hair doing whatever the hell it wants, I'll feel just as beautiful.

"You certainly don't have a problem getting guys to look at you now," Tobias says, his tone half-teasing, half-serious.

"You mean the biker guy?" I tease back, fully aware of how much he dislikes Tate.

"And everyone else."

I roll my eyes, refusing to let him see how his words get under my skin. "Okay, I'm just going to brush over that and say, pot, kettle?"

"Whatever, I've never had a problem getting girls." He laughs, fully aware of how cocky he sounds. I can't help the laugh that escapes me, and he raises an eyebrow, that self-assured grin still in place. "Fuck, that's some arrogant asshole behavior, huh?"

"You are who you are, Tobias," I can't help but smile, because this is him—unapologetically, impossibly him, and I wouldn't change a thing about him, except maybe that one small detail of him being my stepbrother.

"Right," I say, breaking the silence with a sigh. "I'm going home before I get too drunk to make it there on my own."

"Why would you be going alone?" he asks, and I glance up toward the bar, then back at him. "Dani? What about her?"

"I don't know; I saw you pass your phone to her."

"No, she took my phone," he corrects, looking completely unbothered. I nod, pulling up the Uber app to book a ride, but he doesn't let it drop. "She asked if I wanted to hang out after, but I'm not about to let you go home alone."

"Are you serious right now?" I pause mid-scroll, placing my phone on the table and meeting his gaze head-on.

"Oh, fuck me. No. Don't start, Mills. I'm not having this conversation again."

The look in his eyes dares me to argue, but there's something else too. No matter how much I push, no matter how hard I fight, he's not moving. He's not budging. And as irritating as it is, there's something inside me that fucking loves the way he doesn't back down.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't leave Tessa, Jen, or any other woman to go home alone this time of night just to get laid." I roll my eyes, and before I can open my mouth, he adds, "And I know you think I'm some asshole who fucks his way around the country, but I'm not. I'm coming with you, so make your peace with it, and the next time you wanna roll your eyes at me about it, I'll follow you fucking everywhere just to piss you off."

There's nothing left to say, and even if there were, I'm not sure I could find the words.

Silently, I reach for my phone to book the Uber that I'm now apparently sharing with Tobias.

He stands first, his hand outstretched to help me up, and I take it. The moment I'm on my feet, regret hits me instantly—these heels were a mistake. They look incredible, giving me an extra four inches that I desperately need when standing next to Tobias. However, each step is like tap dancing across a field of Lego bricks while having cheese graters strapped to your feet, and I already know they're coming off the second I sit down.

Once we're settled in the back of the car, I kick them off with a sigh, stretching out my toes. The relief is immediate, and I can't help the little sigh of pleasure that escapes as I let my head fall back against the seat.

"Much better," I sigh.

Tobias smirks, glancing down at my discarded shoes in the footwell. "You sure you'll be able to walk on those toes after butchering them all night?"

"Why do you think I took them off? Any longer, and I'd have been begging you to saw my feet off."

"Jigsaw style?"His tone is light, playful, but his eyes… fuck, his eyes are anything but.

"If that's what you're into,"I murmur, though something in his baby blues has me second-guessing my words.

"Games aren't my thing."

"So… what is your thing?"

I shouldn't have asked. The moment the words slip out, I know I've opened something I can't close. He turns, and time seems to slow. God, his eyes. They're not just looking at me. They're stripping me bare and peeling back layers I've spent years constructing.

"I don't think I know anymore, Firefly."

This is not happening.

I need to shatter this tension. I need to shove it out of the car and out of my mind, because what the hell even is this? My pulse is hammering in my ears, my skin is on fire, and I can't think straight with him this close. I let out a shaky laugh and turn my face toward the back of the driver's head.

"Well, you might wanna figure that out before you drive yourself crazy."

His gaze remains on me for one endless moment, like he's waiting for me to give in. Waiting for me to crack and meet him in this space we're both pretending doesn't exist.

But then he looks away, and just like that, the moment's gone.

All I want now is my bed, my head hitting the pillow, and a few hours of not thinking about my stepbrother.