Page 35 of Serpentine

It’s the second time someone has referred to the clubhouse as home. I never corrected them, nor do I dwell on the fact that I don’t.

“Sure.”

“We can go to the bar. Zeke will have burgers up and going by now,” he says, turning the engine over.

“Oh, okay,” I tell him. Burgers don’t sound enticing, but I don’t want to be a pain in the ass, either.

Says the prisoner to her captor.

I smirk inwardly. It’s strange—I feel more free with them than I ever had back with Carter.

“What? Don’t want burgers?” he asks, having picked up on my tone.

I grimace. “Not really. But I don’t want to be picky, either.”

He reaches over, grabbing for my hand. When I let him take it, he tugs me, settling me next to him again. He turns my chin toward him, and both our breathing changes. “What do you want to eat?”

I lick my lips. There’s a tug toward him and a hunger in my stomach, and it’s not for food. “Pizza,” I blurt.

My body is flushed, and I feel as though I’ll pass out from how turned on I am. The way he’d kissed me in the dressing room has me wondering why he doesn’t kiss. Also, I wonder if I’m his first kiss.

“Pizza it is then, baby.”

I register he hasn’t called me princess since his comment earlier, and it has a twang in my chest. Even though I know he means it differently, I like to pretend he calls me that because I’m his princess.

Which is all kinds of stupid. I don’t know him. I don’t know his brother. What I know is that they’re dangerous.

Maybe that’s what I’m gravitationally attracted to. There’s something to wanting a bad boy, right?

You’re far too old to rebel now, Aella.

“What’s got you smiling so big?” Miles asks as we approach a small Italian restaurant, Giovani’s.

“Nothing. Just excited for carbs.”

“Mhm.” He huffs, knowing I’m lying but accepting the answer anyway.

Inside Giovani’s is a mix of tan and burgundy, dark lighting, and plastic plants that hang everywhere. There’s only one couple dining in, and they’re sitting far in the back.

“Seat yourself. I’ll be right with you,” a server says in passing, headed to the table where an older couple sits together on the same side of a booth.

I eye them, looking over the lines on their faces and the smirks on their lips. To be that age and still so deeply in love is the goal, right? Yet, it seems more and more people remain alone these days. Whether by choice or fate.

Miles leads me to a table, and I slide across from him. I don’t need to be face-to-face with him, or we’ll end up locked together again.

Our server takes our drink orders, and then Miles orders a pizza with a side of garlic knots and a salad to share. The more we wait for the food, the larger the awkward silence between us gets.

“So, you and Braxton aren’t blood brothers, are you?” I ask.

He sips his soda as he shakes his head tentatively. “No. How’d you know?”

I shrug. “You just don’t look alike. I know some siblings don’t look like siblings, but there’s usually a resemblance somewhere. I’ve searched for it on both your faces and haven’t seen it.”

He nods. “Yeah. He’s my brother in all other ways, though.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. I was just wondering, was all.” I clear my throat, drinking a sip to coat my rapidly drying mouth.

“His father was one of us,” Miles offers as the server sets down our salad and two sets of cutlery between us. She returns with bread and bread plates before he says another word. “Freddy Talero,” he says, getting his fork from his napkin and stabbing lettuce with it.

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