5. Caleb

FIVE

THIS WAS NOT going to work.

I'd known that the moment I got to class on Monday and found my fate tied to Travis's by way of my seating this semester. But five days later and I wanted to strangle that fuckhead.

Travis had always been good at zeroing in on someone's sore spot and twisting the knife. I'd just never expected that I'd be on the receiving end. I'd always been the one on the other side of him. The fun, outrageous side. But that was definitely not the case now, and hadn't been for years, and with me his unfortunate captive for fifty minutes every other day with nowhere to run, he was relentless with this little game of his.

And it was a game. The flirtation. The double innuendos. The seducer's charm he laid on thick whenever we were alone.

It was his way of fucking with me, because he sure as shit wasn't like that around his friends. Whenever they were around, I was nothing more than an annoyance to him, a bug on the bottom of his boot.

And I needed to get the hell away from him as quick as possible.

"Professor Livingston?" I called out as I jogged down the stairs toward the front podium. Travis had all but bolted from class—not that I'd expected anything else, considering it was Friday and he was probably as ready as I was to get this week over with. But it had offered the perfect opening for me to make my move.

When I reached the front of the class, Professor Livingston flicked the snaps of his briefcase closed and looked up at me. "Mr. Reeves, isn't it?"

"Yes, Caleb."

"Hmm." He eyed me as he picked up his briefcase. "Well, Caleb, I'm glad to see you've worked on your time management skills this week. I was worried we might have a problem there."

"No, and, um, I'm sorry about that. My train got held up Monday, that's all."

"Very well. Let's make sure it doesn't happen again. I appreciate the apology."

Livingston went to step around me, but I blocked his path, knowing I needed to say this now or I might not get the opportunity again.

"Was there something else?"

"Uh, yeah—I mean, yes, sir." When his brow furrowed, I swallowed and forged on. "I was wondering if there was any way I could switch seats with someone?"

Livingston let out a sigh. "I told you, the seats you were in Monday are your seats for the semester. Is there a reason why you need to switch?"

Yeah, it's six feet, dark haired, and a total pain in the?—

"Caleb? Do you have issues seeing the projector?"

"No, that's?—"

"Can you not hear me?"

"No. I just…" I bit down into my lip, trying to think of the best way to explain that my stepbrother was the most annoying human being on the planet.

"I don't have all day, Mr. Reeves."

"I just think I'd do better if I was in a different seat."

Livingston narrowed his eyes, and as the seconds passed, I thought that maybe he was coming around.

I was wrong.

"The seats have been set. If I change it for one, I'll be changing it for all. Now, if that's all, I need to be going."

When he stepped around me this time, I spun on him and blurted out, "I don't get along with my brother."

Livingston stopped and turned back to face me. "Your brother?"

"Stepbrother, actually."

"Travis McKinney?"

"Yes, and we don't get along." Talk about understatement of the century.

Livingston shrugged, and my stomach dropped. "That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem. Your seat is your seat. You're both adults, or supposed to be, so figure it out."

"Figure it out?"

"Yes. You shouldn't be talking in class anyway. Surely you can ignore each other for the time you're in here. Now, I don't know about you, but I'd like to go home for the weekend."

IF THERE WAS one thing I was grateful for, it was that I had a place of my own to come home to after a long week. A place far enough away from Astor that I never ran into anyone from school on the weekends and could just unwind in peace. And after the first week of classes, I needed that peace.

Livingston hadn't given an inch this afternoon, but as I stepped inside my third-floor prewar loft in Soho, I felt the tightness in my chest finally ease. This was my sanctuary, a place Travis had never come near. That felt like an important distinction to make, because he was everywhere.

At our parents' home. At events I was hired to photograph. At Astor. And now my seatmate for the remainder of the semester.

God, what a fucking nightmare. He was the last person I wanted—or needed—to be around, and now he'd be there, provoking me at every turn. It was hard to remember that we'd ever gotten along in the first place.

But I wasn't gonna think about him now. He'd taken up space in my brain for too many hours over the last week, and tonight I was going to spend time in my happy place.After spending the summer in South Africa photographing the wildlife, I had several weeks' worth of photos to edit.

I grabbed my laptop out of my bag and reached for a beer as it powered up. Then clicked open the drive where I stored all my photos. Hundreds of folders popped up, all in alphabetical order. If there was one thing I was meticulous about, it was the way I saved my digital files.

I scrolled down the bottom to the South Africa folder and double-clicked. There were large cat shots, fantastic images I'd caught of a hippo as it launched itself out of the river, defending its calf, and my all-time favorites—the series featuring the herd of elephants we'd followed for a week.

I started with the elephants and got to work.

They were beautiful, commanding, majestic. They made me feel as though I was right back there in the thick of it, and that was the power of a well-taken photograph.

It was what I loved about taking pictures. They captured a moment in time, but evoked different emotions depending on who was viewing it, and that was all I ever hoped for when someone looked at one of my photos—to elicit a response, a feeling.

My eyes wandered to the only folder in the drive that was out of alphabetical order. The one marked untitled. It was in the far bottom left, away from all the others, and had remained unopened for months now—nearly a year according to the time stamp.

I dragged the mouse pointer over the folder, and my pulse skipped a beat.

Don't do it.

But one week in close proximity to Travis and my mind was all over the fucking place. He'd done it again, managed to slip past my defenses, get through the barriers I'd put in place—traffic, city blocks, doors and walls—and find his way into my space.

It was ridiculous. No, I was ridiculous. Because it was me who clicked open the folder. Me who watched the photos inside load. And it was me who couldn't seem to quiet Travis's voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that at one time I'd welcomed him into my space—more than welcomed him…

"CALEB! CALEB, YOU in here?"

I lifted my headphones off one of my ears and listened as Travis's footsteps echoed up the hall of the penthouse to where our bedrooms were located. It'd been a couple of years since our parents had gotten together, and he and his mom had moved in. It still sometimes caught me off guard. It felt strange to have him here.

Not strange in a bad way. Strange in having to share my space with someone after having it all to myself. Travis wasn't exactly the quiet type. He was loud and outgoing and had inserted himself into all aspects of my life until I found it well and truly meshed with his.

Which wasn't a bad thing. I'd been kind of an introvert before that, happier to view the world through a lens than step out and experience it for myself. But Travis had made it his mission to change that, and introduced me to a whole new world where friends, parties and good times were just as fun as finding the perfect shot.

"I'm in my room," I called back as I flicked through the photos I'd taken that morning from the rooftop. The city had been engulfed in a sea of fog, one of the most incredible sights I'd ever seen, and I'd captured it all on camera.

My door swung open, and I glanced up to see Travis filling it in the way he always did when he entered a room. It wasn't that he was physically bigger than I was or imposing in any way, more his presence.From the black, scuffed-up military boots with the laces half undone, to the vintage wash jeans and black t-shirt and jacket with a bunch of different zippers, Travis was cool in ways I would never be. Add in the spiked black hair and icy blue eyes enhanced with liner, and he was difficult to ignore.

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and eyed me where I lounged back against my headboard."Please tell me you're up here looking at porn. If not, that's just sad, man. It's Friday night."

I pulled my headphones down until they hung around my neck. "It's Friday afternoon, and no, I'm not looking at porn."

Travis's lips crooked. "Would you admit it if you were?"

Probably not, but I wasn't telling him that. He would give me shit for being embarrassed or a pussy. "Why would I lie?"

"Dunno. Maybe you're shy."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the image on my computer. "Because I don't want you using my porn subscription? That's smart. Not shy."

Travis chuckled and it was like the throaty sound was being amplified by the bass in my headphones."You think I'm that hard up, huh?" He pushed off the door and sauntered into the room, perching his ass on the edge of my bed like it was his own.

"Aren't you?" I grinned at him over my laptop. "You're the one always bitchin' how you ‘need to get some.'"

Travis flopped across the foot of the bed, slipping his hands under his head. "Yeah, but no one at school."

"Oh? Been there and done that?"

Travis turned his head on the mattress and raised a brow. "You sayin' I sleep around?"

"You saying you don't?"

He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it. "Yeah, okay, fair enough. But that's why I'm here."

My eyes popped wide, and Travis let out a loud burst of laughter.

"Oh my God. You should see your face. I'm not here for that, Caleb." His blue eyes trailed down over my casual crew neck, and he shrugged. "Unless you want to…"

"Shut up."

"I mean, I'm open to it."

I shoved him with my foot, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. "That might be difficult, since I'm, you know, straight."

"Eh, just a minor obstacle."

I snorted then went back to flicking through my pictures, doing my best to calm my skipping heart. Travis always did this to me, had me making a fool of myself in front of him and feeling like some inexperienced virgin—which I wasn't. Again, proving that he was way cooler than I would ever be.

"Anyways, like I was saying, I'm here because I need to get out, have some fun, and guess what?"

I arched a cautious brow. "Do I have to?"

Travis rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand. "East got us all fake IDs."

"Of course he did." East was the person I liked least in Travis's circle. I put up with him because he was part of the crowd, but the guy was so obnoxious.

"Right? There's a new club downtown, and we're going to check it out tonight. You wanna come?"

"Me?" I shook my head. "Uh, no. Not my scene. Plus, I don't have an ID, and?—"

"Yes you do." Travis shifted to his back again and thrust his hips up, and I looked away. "I got him to make you one too." He leaned across the bed and held the card out to me. "You're one of the princes for real now."

Yeah, because that was my lifelong goal, to be one of the Park Avenue Princes. It was fitting—we all lived on Park Avenue—but having a name for a group just felt…douchey.

I glanced at the image staring back at me and shook my head. "I'm not using this."

"Why not? It's just a formality. You know East can?—"

"Buy his way in to any club?"

"Well, yeah, we all can. This is just a safeguard."

I glanced back at the face that looked nothing like mine and gestured for his. "I want to see yours."

Travis proudly handed his over, and I screwed my nose up.

"Are you kidding?"

"What? It'll do."

"This looks nothing like you."

"Sure it does."

"Uh, no. It doesn't. The angle of the jaw, nose, and cheekbones? They're all wrong. They're dull. Yours are sharp and your chin's well defined. Your face is…you know, captivating. This is boring. There's no way anyone will believe this is you."

When nothing but silence met my ears, I looked up to see Travis's face directly in my sightline. Where I thought I'd see a carefree smirk stretched across his smack-talking lips, they were slightly parted.

Shit. Why did I say all of that? I'd gone off on a tangent, looking at him through my photographer's lens, and now he thought I was hitting on him?

The silence in the room suddenly filled with a ringing in my ears. As my heart began to thud loudly, I handed back his ID.

"You really should let me take your picture," I said to fill the tense silence.

Travis took it from me and ran a thumb over the photo, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because you think my face is…captivating?"

"Because I can do a better job than that." I pointed to the card. "Let me take your picture."

He pushed to the edge of the bed, then turned to look at me. "You gonna come out with us tonight?"

I'd already decided against it after seeing the IDs, but even if I'd been undecided, the light now sparking Travis's eyes would've made me decline.

"I don't think so."

He got to his feet and ran his teeth over his lower lip as he looked down at me. "Because of the IDs or because of my face?"

Jesus, I was never going to live that comment down. "Don't flatter yourself."

Travis walked to the door and, just as he was about to step through it, stopped and looked back at me. "I don't need to. You did it for me. Night, stepbrother."

"Not yet we're not," I said as he strolled out of my room like nothing weird had just happened. But something had, because that was the first time I'd ever felt the need to clarify to myself that Travis McKinney wasn't my actual brother, and I had no idea what that meant.

No idea at all.

I SLAMMED MY computer shut, knowing now exactly what had changed that night.

I'd noticed his stupid face. I'd looked at it the way I did anything beautiful.

I groaned in frustration. I couldn't do this. I wasn't going down this road again. I'd been burned by Travis before, and there was no way I was venturing back there.

No way I would ever trust him again.