Page 36 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

He seems surprised by my reaction and softens up a little bit. “Feel free to sleep in my bed tonight if you want,” he says. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He nods at me and glances back at Jonas, who’s hanging in the stairwell, watching his friend with a concerned expression. The guys don’t say anything to each other as Ezra leaves again barely five minutes after coming in the door like a hurricane.

I look at Jonas and he just shakes his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” I answer.

He walks into the kitchen, pours himself another glass of wine, and downs that before pouring a third. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, hesitating at the base of the stairs, glass in his hand. “Café opens at five-thirty. Get there at five.”

“Okay,” I say.

He nods once and heads upstairs without another word.

I sigh and stretch my legs out. I feel calm, blissful almost, but there’s something else fighting for control of me, another feeling deep down inside. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it means, but it’s pushing me to follow Jonas into his room, to curl up in his bed, to take him up on his offer to take his shirt off. I’m worried I just embarrassed myself, basically throwing myself at him that way like a pathetic little loser.

But it was so freaking hot that I guess I don’t really care.

I get up, top off my glass of wine, and spend the rest of the night watching Netflix before falling asleep way too late, my phone alarm set for four-thirty.

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