Page 31 of Crushing On My Brothers BFF

I go on like this, completely disconnected from reality, saying the most insane things. Toward the end of the video, it fades to black, and a message appears. I’ve heard the phrasechilled to the bonebefore, but now I actually feel it, a cutting coldness moving right through me.

This is to let you know we are serious. How would your brother feel if he knew about this, Sophie?

Await further instructions.

I stare at the words, white on a black backdrop. The video ends and then automatically replays. I slam the laptop shut, my head aching, trying to figure out who would’ve sent this and how they got the video. Andwhy?

There are too many questions. I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like I can talk to Paul about it. He doesn’t even know these videos exist. Kaleb and I left things too sourly for me to go to him. I feel stuck, trapped in place, with no option other than to do what this mystery freak wants. Await further instructions.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kaleb

I’m on the treadmill again, as if I can outrun my demons. I’ve spent the day buried in work, trying not to think about the fact I failed. Nobody forced me to give into my lust. Nobody forced me to slide my hand between her thick legs and rub until she was creaming, moaning, and hungry for more.

On the TV screen across the room, an interview plays with Jane Larson, the woman from the hospital who wanted a video, the woman whose phone Sophie stole. Thinking of that gets me grinning despite how we left things. Jane Larson is clawing onto her fifteen minutes of fame.

“I was incredibly heartbroken by his response,” she says. “All I wanted was a quick video. My mother is suff-suff…” She trails off, fighting off tears, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it were all an act. “Suffering so badly with her cancer scare.” Cancerscare, not cancer, but of course, Jane wants to get the c-word in there. “When I saw the other angle, saw himsmirking, it made me sick. Did I really do anythingthatbad?”

I swipe on my phone and call Tyrone.

“Boss?” he answers after a few rings.

“Let’s arrange a one-on-one with Jane Larson,” I tell him.

“What? Why? Are you sure?”

“Our brand is about freedom. I’ll explain to this woman why I should have the freedom to visit my sick friend. Let the public decide who’s right.”

“It’s risky. Anything could happen.”

“If we cared about risk, I wouldn’t have a job. Neither would you. Neither would anybody in the company. Anything on Mark or Lisa yet?”

“Nothing, but I’m still digging.”

“Dig harder,” I snap, and then hang up.

I know I’m being an ass. Maybe it’s one benefit of being a CEO, being able to behave in a dickhead way. I’m normally able to resist the urge. I can’t stop thinking about Sophie, though, how we left things. I stormed away from her and pulled out of her street like it was a drag race. I didn’t even say goodbye to my so-called best friend.

I keep running until I feel like my legs are going to crumble. Then I jump off the machine, breathing hard, wishing Sophie was here, but that’s nothing new. I always wish she was here.

Time to work some more. I’ll focus on the gray world again, forget about the brightness and the heat Sophie brings into my life. Tomorrow, when I visit Paul, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened. No kissing, no closeness, no steam, no obsession. Is that even possible?

Sophie answers the door, still wearing her PJs, pink pants with white polka dots, and a pink shirt with a bear on it. They look like kid’s PJs, yet another reminder of why I must keep things cold with her. Her hair is wild and sexy—no, just messy. I don’t care what her hair looks like. That’s my story, the resolve I have to keep. I can’t let myself care about the anxiety on her face. Or the fact it looks like she hasn’t slept.

“Paul is asleep,” she says.

“Oh.”

“But, uh, you can wait?”

No. “Okay.”

I walk into the house, brushing close to her, clenching my fists to stop from reaching out and touching her.

“Have you seen the video?” she asks, closing the door behind me. “It’s got two hundred thousand views now.”

“Fame Warriors unite,” I mutter dryly.

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