I Fell to my Brother's best Friend

Eunice

"Eunice, come down and eat before the house gets crazy," Mom called from the hallway, her voice carrying that familiar mix of worry and impatience. "Paulo's friends are going to start pouring in any minute, and once they do, you'll disappear upstairs again. You know how you get."

The moment she said "Paulo's friends," I bolted out of bed and cracked the door open. Mom was already heading back down the stairs.

I peeked over the railing first, scanning the living room. Only our cousins were scattered around, laughing and helping themselves to food. Safe. I slipped out and padded downstairs.

⸻

It's Paulo's 21st birthday today—his last week living at home before he moves to the city for his new bank job. Mom turned it into a full-blown send-off party, which means the place is about to be packed: relatives, old classmates, random well-wishers, the works.

Especially his college crew. And front and center among them is Denver Chui, Paulo's best friend since high school basketball days, the guy who's been breaking hearts on campus for years. Tall, effortlessly handsome, charming as hell, but loyal? Not exactly his strong suit. Classic playboy. With him coming, half the guest list is probably girls hoping to catch his eye.

For someone like me, who'd rather hide in a closet than make small talk with strangers, this is my personal nightmare. Mom gets it, which is why I'm sneaking food while the house is still quiet.

"Eunice, seriously? You're wearing that?" Beatrice, my cousin, stared at me like I'd committed a crime against fashion.

I glanced down at my oversized pajama shirt and shorts. "What's wrong with it?"

"You're in actual sleep clothes. It's your brother's birthday party, couldn't you at least put on real clothes? People are arriving," she scolded.

"That's kind of the point," I muttered.

"Wait, is Denver really coming?" my other cousin asked, smoothing her hair and adjusting her dress.

"Yep. Auntie said Paulo picked him up earlier," Beatrice answered, looking way too pleased.

"Oh no, quick, how's my lipstick?" the other one squeaked, digging through her purse.

I ignored them, quietly piling food onto my plate from the buffet. Plan: eat fast, vanish upstairs, survive the night in peace.

But just as I turned to escape, the low growl of motorcycles rumbled outside. I glanced out the window. Paulo parked first. Denver swung off the back of his bike, helmet under one arm, that ridiculous perfect smile already in place.

More bikes rolled in behind them, each loaded with passengers. My grip tightened on the plate. Denver started toward the front door, moving like he owned the night.

My cousins erupted into excited squeals behind me.

Abort mission. Room. Now.

⸻

I'd barely settled in with my food when there was a sharp knock.

"Eunice, do you have a spare charger? Someone needs one," Mom said through the door.

I frowned. "Mom, my phone's Android, no one here uses that."

"Samsung charger, Eunice! Just bring it down," Paulo's voice shouted from the hallway.

Mom sighed. "Open up and give it to your brother. I've got a million things to do in the kitchen."

Great. I grabbed the charger, grumbled all the way downstairs, and cracked my bedroom door open again.

The noise hit me like a wall, laughing, overlapping voices, music starting up. Instant anxiety spike. Halfway down the stairs, I decided yelling was safer than walking into the crowd.

"Paulo! Charger!"

But it wasn't Paulo who jogged up the steps.

Its Denver.

Fuck.

"Hey, Eunice. Been a minute." His voice was low, warm, eyes locking on mine like the rest of the room didn't exist. "You good?"

I froze mid-step, staring like a complete idiot, charger dangling forgotten from my fingers.

"Oh, uh, here," I stammered, shoving it at him.

He took it slowly, that lazy, dangerous smile spreading across his face. "Thanks. Phone was dead, need to make one quick call. I'll bring it right back."

"No problem," I said too fast, already pivoting to flee.

"Wait." His voice stopped me cold. "You coming down? Hang with us for a bit. Might be the last time the whole crew's together, I'm out too, you know."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Heading to the States next week."

"Oh." My stomach twisted. "So this is kinda your goodbye party too."

He laughed, soft and low, the sound sliding straight down my spine. "More like an excuse for everyone to get drunk and dramatic."

He was close, too fucking close. His breath brushed my face, cool mint and something darker underneath. My brain glitched, traitorously imagining how his mouth would feel pressed against mine, hot and demanding.

Get it together.

"So... you coming down or what?" he asked again, head tilted, dark brown eyes glinting with that teasing heat.

"I, uh, maybe," I mumbled, suddenly obsessed with the carpet.

"Hey, Denver! Stop flirting with my little sister, asshole!" Paulo bellowed from below.

Denver didn't even glance away from me. Just chuckled, low and unbothered. "Your brother's got shit timing," he murmured, voice dropping just for me. "But seriously, it'd be good to see you down there. Even for a little."

My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

Paulo's footsteps pounded up the stairs. "I'm serious, man, hands off!"

Denver raised both hands in mock surrender, charger still in one. "Relax, just grabbing this," he called down, then flicked his gaze back to me, one last slow, burning look. "Think about it, yeah?"

He brushed past me on the way down, arm grazing mine, deliberate enough to send sparks shooting straight between my thighs.

I stayed frozen on the landing, cheeks on fire, fingers clenched around the railing so tight it hurt.

What the fuck just happened?