Best friend's brother

Violet had barely been gone five minutes when the silence started to feel too loud. “I’ll be right back,” she’d said, grabbing her keys. “I forgot my book in the library. Don’t let my brother scare you off.”

Then the front door clicked shut, and it was just the two of you.

You tried to act normal—eyes on your phone, posture casual, like your heart wasn’t beating a little too fast whenever he looked at you. But he was watching you from across the room, and the air between you felt charged in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“You’re doing it again,” he said quietly. You glanced up. “Doing what?” “Pretending.”

Before you could answer, he crossed the room. In one smooth movement, he leaned over you, pinning you gently but firmly against the sofa cushions. Not enough to hurt—just enough that escaping would mean admitting you wanted to.

His eyes searched yours, serious and unreadable.

“How long are you going to pretend you don’t like me?” he asked, voice low. “That there isn’t anything between us?”

Your breath caught.

“If you’re not going to say it,” he continued, a faint, dangerous smile tugging at his mouth, “then I have a list of things I want to do about it.”