Who are you?

Mila’s POV

Aaron cleared his throat, cutting through the heavy silence Axel had left in the room. He adjusted the strap of my canvas duffel bag, which was still slung over his shoulder from downstairs, and offered a small, apologetic smile.

"Let me show you to your room," he said, turning toward the stairs.

"Thanks," I muttered, dragging my feet as I followed him up the wide wooden staircase.

"Don't mind Axel," Aaron said quietly as we reached the top landing. "He likes to test people. He's not usually that much of a jerk, though."

"It's fine," I lied, my voice tight.

My mind was racing. I had entirely forgotten this boy's name the exact second Axel walked into the hallway downstairs. As we walked down the upper hall, I desperately tried to think of anything that would get him to tell me his name without actually asking for it.

"So," I started, trying to sound casual as I looked around. "The house is really big. Do you guys both have rooms up here?"

"Yeah, just us three up here. Our parents are downstairs." He slowed his pace to match mine. "You'll get used to the layout in no time. Don’t worry…”

"Right. It's just a lot to take in. My dad didn't even mention that you two were twins. I was shocked to find two of… well…” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

He chuckled. "Two of us? He didn’t realize he hadn’t told you anything about us until today, when he told us you were coming.” He explained, “In his defense, he did go on a ramble describing you to us. He said it would be a surprise, but Axel and I told him it would be a terrible surprise.”

Axel and... blank. I bit the inside of my cheek in frustration. "Yeah, a little heads-up would have been nice. It’s hard enough keeping track of everyone's names—worse when they are twins…” I replied with a dry chuckle.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said, stopping at the very end of the hall and pushing open a white door. "If it helps, our initials are both A. Makes it easier to remember."

"Super helpful," I muttered, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. So I still didn’t know the other twin's name! Weren’t we off to a great start.

He opened the door and we walked into the room.

The room was squeaky clean and far more spacious than my old room, with a large window overlooking the wide backyard. He set my bag down on the floor.

"Axel’s room is right across the hall," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "And mine is the one directly to your left. If you need anything at all, you just have to ask. I'm right next door. You're going to like it here, Mila. Truly."

"Good to know. Thanks," I answered with a small smile.

Once he left, I locked the door and collapsed onto the bed. For hours, I just stared at the ceiling. Sandwiched right between them. I was literally trapped in between two hot boys who also happened to be my stepbrothers.

If I were back home, my best friend Chloe would be blowing up my phone, giggling in pure excitement over the sheer drama of the situation. 'Mila, you're living in a house with two hot twins? This is literally a movie!' she would have squealed. But my phone was dead, Chloe was miles away, and I wasn't excited. I was terrified.

**

By 2:00 AM, the emotional exhaustion had morphed into an aggressive hunger. I had skipped dinner entirely, and now my stomach was completely empty.

Giving up on sleep, I quietly unlocked my door and crept down the stairs. I was wearing my pajamas—a cropped white tee and a pair of grey booty shorts—not expecting anyone else to be awake in the dead of night. The house was pitch black, saved only by the pale moonlight filtering through the high windows.

I made it to the kitchen, my bare feet silent against the cold tiles, and began scanning the countertops for anything quick to eat. Right on cue, my stomach let out a spectacularly loud grumble.

Someone cleared their throat in the dark.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around with my heart hammering against my ribs.

Sitting at the small kitchen island was one of the boys. A single, low-light reading lamp illuminated a thick textbook in front of him. He was wearing a pair of black, wire-rimmed glasses, a soft grey tank top, and sweatpants. In the dim glow, his sharp features were softened by the lamplight.

I froze, my breath catching. With the glasses and the textbook, he looked like the polite brother from earlier. It had to be him.

"I... I just needed a stroll," I stammered, my voice a breathless whisper.

As if to call me an absolute liar, my stomach let out another loud growl.

The tips of my ears turned bright red in an instant. I bit my lower lip. I wanted the kitchen floor to open up and swallow me whole.

A soft chuckle broke the silence. He closed his textbook and rose to his feet. He began walking toward me, and with every single step he took, my heart pounded faster. He stopped just inches away, his height towering over me, before he reached past me to open the refrigerator.

He pulled out a carton, poured a fresh glass of milk, and handed it to me. "Here. For the stroll."

Milk. It had to be Axel, right? Was this some sort of innuendo for earlier? Right. But those eyes—my eyes flickered to them again. They were soft, nothing like those dark eyes that had stared me down the whole time downstairs.

"Thanks," my voice was a soft, nearly inaudible whisper.

I took a slow, nervous sip, the cold milk soothing my parched throat. But as I lowered the glass, the illusion broke. He didn't step back, nor did he go back to the book he was reading. He was standing so close to me, his cedar scent enveloping me.

He wasn’t giving me that safe, sheepish smile from before.

My breath caught in my throat while my heart was pounding fast. I lowered my eyes, unable to meet his gaze anymore. Instead, I was staring at his chest and the exposed arms from the tank top he was wearing. My eyes followed every vein, until….

He leaned in closer. His gaze shifted, turning incredibly intense and dark as it locked onto mine. It was a smoldering stare that seemed to chip away at every last bit of sensibilities I had. I swallowed, peeking at him from underneath my lashes. He looked exactly like Axel—until he didn't.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the glasses, then straight into those intense green eyes.

Before I could back away, his thumb reached out. The pad of his thumb brushed gently against the corner of my mouth, wiping away a stray drop of milk. His skin was unbelievably warm against my face, sending a sharp jolt straight down my spine. His thumb lingered on my lower lip for a fraction of a second too long, his breathing hitching as his eyes dropped to my mouth.

"You should eat something real tomorrow," he murmured softly, his voice dropping into a low, intimate baritone that made my skin prickle. "Mom made a lot of food."

Lost in the sheer intensity of his gaze, my brain completely short-circuited. The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Who are you?"