Eleven

Cade

"N ic seems different."

"I guess," I grouse, but Liam ignores the tone. It's been a week since I made a fool out of myself and started ignoring Nic altogether because of it, but it's proving harder than I thought it'd be. He demands attention just by existing. And it doesn't help that we share a room and bathroom. And we work together. I get small breaks, like now—another trip to the gym with Liam—but when I go home, he's there. I moved my study sessions to the library, but no matter how much I linger, I always end up at home. And he'll just be there, laying in bed like the moody fucker he is. Eerily silent.

"He's kinda…"

I peep the small smile on Liam's face and roll my eyes. My jaw tenses with the words he lets hang in the air. He's stupid hot, that's what he's not saying. Nicolas Aldana is all sorts of sexy. But also… "He's an asshole."

Liam hums in thought. "Sure. But also—"

"I'm gonna tell your boyfriend if you finish that sentence."

Liam cocks a brow at me before shrugging. "He has eyes, dude. Bash would agree with me—Nic is model-level attractive. He could be the male version of Winnie Harlow—that model with vitiligo."

"Don't care," I snark. "Do you only like dickheads? People who are straight fucking trash, that all that does it for you?"

That's not really fair, but honestly, he's my friend. Liam never liked Nic when we were teens, and as my friend, it needs to stay that way. He needs to be on my side. For my sanity. Nic isn't gonna get any less hot, and I need the people in my life to stop acknowledging it before I flip the fuck out.

"Bash is not trash." He looks genuinely offended, angry at my poor choice of words.

"Sorry." I hold my palms up, not touching that topic. Sebastian seems like a good enough boyfriend, albeit hella possessive and protective. But that's… I get why Liam likes it—he seems to eat all the attention Sebastian gives him, and I don't blame him. "Nic is, though."

"You guys haven't been getting along?"

"What do you think?" I have to duck my head to hide the faint blush I feel spreading on my face.

"Are you ready to go?" Sebastian walks up and stands aloof as he intrudes. An apathetic robot ninety percent of the time. If you take Liam out of that whole equation, Sebastian is nothing more than a quiet grump who glares a lot. It's not until Liam reaches for his hand that his browline relaxes, and it's odd how much that changes his face. From a slightly scary man to… a guy letting his boyfriend kiss his face all over.

He allows it for a moment before trying to duck away, which clearly only eggs Liam on.

"Awe. My widdle baby," he coos, and my lips crack into a curious grin as this spectacle unfolds. When Sebastian actually blushes, I have to laugh.

"Stop," he grumbles, halfheartedly pushing at the hands Liam is trying to cradle his face with. Liam presses a hard kiss onto his mouth and I have to look away, feeling like I'm the one intruding all of a sudden, a subtle ache in my chest as I listen.

I want that. Someone to kiss my face, to let me do the same. They're so publicly in love, and it makes me feel like I'm missing out. It's gross.

When I don't hear any more smooches, I return my focus to them and catch it when Sebastian seems to realize that I'm still there. His face falls, settles back into his signature scowl but not in a way that tells me he's mad. A little uncomfortable, maybe. Embarrassed.

I get it. It's awkward for me too. I'm lucky that he's cool enough to try and be okay with me hanging around—especially when Liam pushes things at times. Like now, as he asks if I want to come over to his and Sebastian's place.

I decline, telling him I have studying to do, which isn't technically a lie. We have finals coming up, but I'm pretty confident in most of my classes. Avoiding the bane of my existence means that I've logged loads of studying time.

But I've hit enough books for the day, and I don't feel like going at it again in fear of brain rot. Most likely, I'm going to head home. Sit in the living room for as long as I can until I have to go to bed. Next to Nic.

"Next time, then." He smiles easily, not at all miffed at my avoidance tactic. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright." I hold back a love you as they walk away. Things are slowly getting better between us—the three of us—but I don't think that's an okay thing to say to Liam anymore. Sebastian made it clear that there are boundaries I can't cross. It doesn't feel like the kind of love I was suffocating in for a few years, not after that rejection, but he's still the closest thing I have to a brother, and I do love him.

I huff a laugh through my nose at the thought—I once again forgot that Nic is technically my brother. I'm silently professing my brotherly love for the guy I spent years attracted to. And now here I am, all kinds of fucked up over the guy who is legally a part of my family.

The stepbrother who hates me. Doesn't want me.

But he fucked me like he does. I felt the evidence of that for days afterward, an ache to remind me of my fuck up in a way that made my groin feel hot. It's gone now, almost a week later. I kind of miss it, and that thought pisses me off. It's not even the first time I've had it.

I need to find somebody who… is not Nic. Move on to better, healthier things.

∞∞∞

"D o I know you?" I peer at his face and swear I've seen him before. But as I look him over, my mind doesn't connect the dots.

"I don't think so. I'm Corby." He grins as he holds his hand out, and I frown at it. Who shakes hands at clubs? It makes me wish I'd just gone home, because now that I'm here, at Class, it's feeling like more work than I wanted. I'm irritable and not in the mood for flirting. It's throwing the few people that have tried off.

I swear I've seen him before. It shouldn't bother me, but then I see the last person I want to walk up behind him and groan. That's where I know him from. He's the skeevy guy Nic met on our last trip here.

"What are you doing here?" My stomach tightens in a warm knot as Nic looks at me. There have been plenty of guys all over me since I showed up, but I dodged all of them. None of them stirred any interest. I've been chasing the feeling all night, but now that it's here, I want to scream. Wrong fucking guy, Dumb Dick .

I have to constantly remind myself of that. He's the wrong guy, and it needs to be that simple. He's mean. He doesn't like me. He's my stepbrother—that alone should be enough of a reason to stomp on the massive brain boner he gives me. Except it's not. And worse, I think that's part of what gives me all those real boners I've tried and failed to ignore since last week.

"I'm guessing the same thing you are." Nic shrugs coolly, looking relaxed in a way that has me narrowing my eyes. A pissed-off Nic is the usual lately. Or always. This? I don't know what the fuck this is.

We haven't talked to each other much—not since we… I straighten up, square my shoulders as I try my best to look like a guy who is not thinking about the time his stepbrother shoved his dick in him.

The same thing you are . "You're looking for a hookup?"

There was no discernable reason for me to say that, and I wish I hadn't, but the sudden turmoil at the thought of him looking for someone to mess around with forced it out of me. He's not supposed to be here, at Class. He's a loner. He should be in his bed listening to Sleep Token or some shit.

He opens his mouth, but his buddy interrupts.

"Well, I'm here."

"What?" I half-snap at Nic's friend, irritated as I look at his face.

"You're looking for a hookup, and—"

"No." Nic couples the word with a slow shake of his head, looking at me like he thinks he can tell me what to do.

Do I want to share an orgasm with a dude named Corby? Not really. But, also, fuck you, Nic . "Sounds good to me," I quip, reaching for Corby's arm. I make sure I shove past Nic as I step away from the bar. It doesn't feel right as I drag this guy—the wrong, wrong guy—behind me, and when Nic catches up to us and rips my hand off of his friend, I'm mostly relieved.

Until I consider the why. Why is he so against me getting busy with his buddy? Maybe he wants Corby all to himself. My eyes ping pong between the two of them, between the angry look on Nic's face to the subdued humor on Corby's and back. "I'm not doing this."

I turn around. He can have him. He isn't that good-looking anyway. I'm for sure hotter than that guy. Corby . Plus, he has a stupid fucking name. That is not the kind of name anyone wants to be screaming during sex. Cade, on the other hand, is great for that.

Unless you're Nic, I guess.

I make it about halfway into the crowd before I have to admit that I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm being fueled by spite and quickly losing fire. He's here, and I should leave. That's what common sense is telling me.

I went to a different club first. A club I know Nic has never been to, where I danced with a girl for a bit before I decided that's not what I wanted. She was hot, smelled really good, and fruity, but everything about her was too delicate. Apparently, I'm in the mood to be manhandled. So, I came here. And now I'm regretting it.

But I came here to come, goddammit .

I feel unhinged. I wanted to avoid Nic—can't do that if he's here. I wanted to come—despite him, I'm going to. He's everywhere, in every part of my life, and my last orgasm can't belong to him.

Have a healthy, mutual jerk-off session with someone who actually wants to touch me. That's the mission.

Except, now all I can think about is Nic touching me. His hands on me. Maybe not trying to kill me. The way he fucked me. Tried to be gentle about it until I wouldn't let him. The way he talked to me. How everything he did made me feel so good when, really, it shouldn't have.

I think of his scars and how I want to apologize for seeing them. It's pushed a wedge— another wedge—between us, and it's driving me crazy. Guilt and regret are poisoning me, making me feel sick anytime I let myself think about it.

I think about how, despite all of that, I still want more.

A hand grips my forearm, and looking down to see it confirms what I already knew. "Why are you really here?" Nic's voice is hard to hear over all the noise, but I know it's him. I'm obsessed with his voice, with the little scratch it has. I love how deep it gets in the morning, even when I'm saving face by pretending I'm still mad at him. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm just obsessed with him, period.

I groan, exasperation prickling at my skin as he steps closer behind me. Regret once again swarms my insides, making my chest feel tight. I was all about getting Nic inside me. I had a goal and got what I wanted, but I was not at all prepared for the after-effects. Whether I want to admit it or not, I want him.

But he doesn't feel the same.

My eyes find his hand again, still holding my arm. Why is he doing this to me? He's playing with me. Fucking with my head—has to be. Enjoying the mind games because he hates me that much. But I don't deserve that.

" Getting away from you ," I answer honestly, but I make sure he can't hear me .