Page 8 of Last Round

I cup my breast—seems like a little more than a handful to me.Killian has enormous hands. I doubt they’d even register in his palm.I shake the unnecessary image from my mind.

Me: It doesn’t matter. No amount of puberty, makeup, or clothes can change the fact I’m Sean’s little sister, and Killian will only ever think of me that way.

Bex: I get it. You can’t change who your brother is. Doesn’t mean Kill won’t change his view of you. You’re smoking hot. I doubt any friendship on the face of the planet is strong enough to keep a guy from a girl he wants.

Me: Have you met Killian?

Me: Can we drop it? I’m not even interested in dating anyone at the moment.

Bex: Who said anything about dating? Kill doesn’t date. He fucks. Word on the street is he does it really fucking good too. Which is what you need. A bigger, better dick to help you forget about your douchebag ex so you can move on and find your Mr. Right.

Ugh, I know in a way she’s right. But it’s more complicated than that.

Me: I’ll think about it.

Is all I can say. Hopefully, this will satisfy her. I know her well enough that if I don’t mildly agree to appease her, she’ll continue to push. And Bex can be very persuasive when she wants, which is pretty much all the time. She would’ve been an awesome lawyer if she had any interest in schooling. I can imagine her as the real life Elle Woods fromLegally Blonde.

Bex: Okay, I’ll let youthinkabout it while you practice with your B.O.B.

Me: You’re gross.

Bex: Don’t act like you haven’t thought about him while you rubbed your nub. For how in love you were with him, I’m willing to bet you were thinking about him when you lost your V-card.

Me: Goodbye, Bex.

Bex: I hear it’s pierced now, just to help your imagination.

I toss my phone onto the nightstand, grab my pillow from behind me, and pull it over my face to muffle my scream. Coming home was a mistake. I was stupid to think that, after seven years of not seeing or even speaking to Killian Murphy, all those naïve butterflies that would flutter in my chest each time I thought of him died. Instead, they went dormant. Because despite the asshole not realizing it was me he was talking to, the second our eyes locked, those traitorous insects didn’t just flutter their wings. They fucking soared.

The sweet scent of batter wafts up through the floor vent, and my mouth waters. Tossing my hair up into a messy bun, I brush my teeth and rush downstairs.

Sean’s at the stovetop with a spatula in hand. “You still like pancakes, right?”

“Who doesn’t?” I bunch my nose in disgust as I take a seat at the small, round breakfast table—the same one that’s always been here. It’s forever stained with Sharpie marks and cup rings.

Sean shrugs. “I don’t know. People in New York are more:give me a bagel with smear,” he says in a horrific attempt at a New Yorker accent—it’s so bad even he laughs. My brother is definitely not cut out to be an actor. That’s for sure. At least not portraying anyone from the east coast.

“It’s because everyone is always on the go,” I say as I pour an obscene amount of syrup over the stack he just laid out in front of me. “You can’t eatthiswhile fighting traffic on the way to the office.”

“Napkin?”

My bite was perhaps a little too large, and delicious maple gold is dripping down my chin.

“Glad to see they didn’t change you too much.” He chuckles and turns back to the stove.

For as much as I might bitch about nothing changing in this house, after everything that just happened, this familiarity is exactly what I need.

“Eat up,” Sean says, his tone suddenly stern. “You’ve got a long day of new-hire orientation ahead of you.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I hear the boss is a real jerk, and it’s going to be painfully boring.”

Yup, some things never change. My corny-ass brother being one of them. Me still being haplessly in love with his best friend is another. Now, to get dressed and face that fact head-on. Clearly, I didn’t think this through when Sean mentioned needing a hand at the bar.

New-Hire Orientation

Molly

Startinganewjobsucks. The first day or two always go by in a blur of names and unfamiliar faces. Major info-dump ofeverycompany policy and guideline, which you won’t remember two seconds after hearing because you’re suffering from intellectual overload. After your first shift, you’re so beaten down it’s like you’ve been getting your ass kicked by that job for the last twenty years and counting down the days to retirement.

I assumed working at the bar wouldn’t be that bad. For starters, I know most of the staff who work here, since it’s a bunch of people from the neighborhood. Also didn’t expect to have all these formal hoops to jump through, given it’s slinging drinks and my brother’s my boss. I figured, worst-case scenario, I’d have to do the standard paperwork today for taxes and payroll. Then, after that was done, shadow someone for a bit until I got the hang of the system.

---