CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

"Who is it?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and accusing. I felt the color drain from my face. "Don’t tell me you... you peep through my..."

"I don't need to peep," Drake interrupted, his voice a low, jagged crawl. He stepped into my personal space, his hands heavy on my shoulders. "You aren't exactly quiet, Aubrey. You're loud. High-pitched. Sometimes I wonder if the neighbors can hear you, let alone our parents."

A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, but it felt like a threat. I swallowed, my throat dry.

"That’s why I have to blast my speakers every night," he whispered, his breath ghosting against my ear. "To drown you out. It’s pathetic, really."

I felt myself shrinking, my skin burning with a shame so intense I couldn't look him in the eye. He was assessing me, reading every twitch of my expression.

"So tell me again," he pressed, his grip tightening. "Who is it?"

"Brendan..." The name tumbled out, desperate and hurried. "It’s Brendan. I... he’s just too hot to resist. I think about him."

Drake let out a sharp, disbelieving cackle that echoed off the bike racks. He reached out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my temple.

"Brendan?" he mocked. "Brendan makes you scream like that? Makes you cum every single night?"

I shoved him back, the force of it surprising us both. "Then who should it be? You? Come on, Drake, you’re my brother."

"Step-brother," he corrected instantly, his voice turning cold as ice. "Not a drop of blood between us. We're strangers living under the same roof."

"And what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Recognize it for what it is," he said, stepping back into my space until I was pinned against the brick wall. "You have a crush on me. Admit it. We could work something out. No one has to know."

The air felt like it was thickening, turning to sludge in my lungs. "You’re delusional. I like Brendan. Don't you dare ruin that with your sick jokes."

"Jokes?" Drake’s face went dead serious. The playfulness vanished, replaced by a dark, brooding intensity that made my heart hammer against my ribs. "You think I’m joking?"

Silence slammed down between us. He stared at me for a long beat, his eyes searching mine for a crack in the armor. Then, without a word, he snatched his helmet from my hands.

"Your father is waiting in the car," he said, his voice now flat and hollow. "Go. Get out of here."

"But... you need help with the..."

"Just go!"

I didn't wait for him to say it a third time. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and hurried toward the parking lot. My legs like a lead, and my mind a fog of chaotic blur until I saw the car.

My breath seized again. Thomas wasn't alone. He was leaning against the driver’s side door, his arms wrapped around a woman.

Not my mother. 

It was the lecturer from earlier. He was kissing her, deeply, desperately, right there in the at the parking lot. Right infront of me. 

A hot, jagged spike of anger flared in my chest. I hate him. I hated the way he moved, the way he looked in those tight sports clothes that left nothing to the imagination. I hated how my eyes always betrayed me, tracing the rock-solid line of his abs through his shirt or the way his chest heaved when he breathed.

I’d spent hours imagining those hands on me. I’d imagined my tongue tracing the path of water droplets down his throat when he drank. I wanted to be the very clothes on his skin, just to feel his heat.

The lecturer pulled away, looking startled as she caught sight of me. Thomas turned, his eyes wide, the color in them shifting as they locked onto mine.

"Aubrey... I can explain..."

I didn't give him the chance. I walked straight past him, my heels clicking sharply on the asphalt, and climbed into the passenger seat. I slammed the door so hard the glass rattled.

He got in a moment later, the scent of the other woman still clinging to him. "Aubrey..."

"Just drive."

He hesitated, his veiny hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. He threw the car into reverse and hit the road, the engine’s growl the only sound between us.

"I’m not cheating on your mom," he said finally, his voice strained. "It was... a mistake."

I stared out the window, my mind racing. If he could do it with her, why not me?

"Yuna..." He used my middle name, his voice pleading. "Please. Don't tell your mother. I don't want to lose her. It'll never happen again, I swear."

I turned to look at him. The streetlights flickered over his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes. He looked vulnerable, and for some reason, it only fueled the fire in my blood.

"Do you do this with every woman you meet?"

"No," he snapped. "I don't."

"Then who is she?"

He stuttered, his eyes darting to the road and back. "She’s... she’s my ex-wife. Well, not Drake’s mother, but... I almost married her years ago."

"I won't tell," I said softly, leaning toward him. The anger was gone, replaced by a reckless, jittery power. "It’ll be our little secret."

"Really?" His eyes lit up with a sudden, pathetic hope.

"Yes." I reached out, my fingers trembling as I cupped his bearded jaw and pulled his face toward mine. I pressed my lips to his, tasting the lingering trace of the other woman and the salt of his skin.

He pulled back, his expression darkening into something dangerous. "Yuna, what are you doing?"

"No one has to know," I whispered, my voice thick. "You saw me this morning. You didn't look away. What were you thinking when you saw me?"

"What is wrong with you?" he growled, though he didn't move away.

"We can have it right here," I said, my boldness overriding my sanity. "It's dark. The street is empty. No one will ever find out."

"Aubrey," he warned, but his breath was coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I mean it, no one will know. Our dirty little secret." 

"Yuna..."