My Best friend's Brother

Next Time, Mr. Thompson?

~Joan~

I hate my boyfriend. He sucks.

Those were the only words I’d written since an hour ago when I turned on my laptop. The cursor blinked at me like it was mocking me, daring me to write something else. But no, all I had was resentment and an empty brain.

Rhoda was in the middle of a bad mood swing, thanks to her brother freezing her accounts and blacklisting her. Honestly, I’d be pissed too.

So I had wandered through the house and discovered that the infamous Aaron actually owned a library. It was massive, artistic, and packed with books—so many books that, for a moment, I mistook it for a bookstore.

It was quiet, dim, and cool—the kind of space where inspiration should’ve flowed. Yet my mind was blank. Was writing horror always this hard, or was my brain just betraying me today?

And then I felt it.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I knew someone was there. I didn’t need to turn around to confirm it—I felt the presence. I knew who it was.

My body told me before my mind could process it, and the realization annoyed me. No, it f*****g infuriated me.

I stayed slouched in my seat, glaring at the empty screen in front of me, as if refusing to acknowledge him would make him go away. But of course, Aaron wasn’t the type to disappear quietly.

“Stop hiding in the shadows and watching me like a creep,” I finally said, the sharpness in my voice cutting through the silence.

“Creep?” His voice echoed through the room, low and smooth, with that ever-present edge of arrogance. “Interesting choice of words, considering I’m wondering what the hell you’re doing in my library.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, it was his library.

“I didn’t know you read, Mr. Thompson,” I muttered. And I meant it. Aaron didn’t exactly strike me as the type who spent his time in libraries.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he replied. His footsteps grew louder as he moved closer.

Touché. And true.

In the three years I’d known Rhoda, I had learned absolutely nothing about her brother. We had spent that entire time hating each other, and frankly, nothing had changed.

His footsteps stopped behind me, close enough that I could smell his cologne—clean, soapy, and irritatingly perfect. I hated that he smelled good.

I snapped my laptop shut, the last flicker of light disappearing, leaving the room bathed in darkness. My nerves lit up like a live wire.

My instincts screamed at me to turn the laptop back on, just to see where he was, but I wouldn’t. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected me.

The silence thickened, broken only by the sound of his measured breathing. I sat still for another moment before finally standing up.

As far as I was concerned, we had nothing to talk about, and it wouldn’t look good if Rhoda found me alone with her brother in the most secluded room of the house—especially in the dark.

“Well, since you’re not leaving, I will,” I said, squinting to make out his silhouette.

God, I really should’ve turned on the lights.

“Running from me, Kitten?” His voice was low, teasing, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I froze. Kitten? Really?

“Kitten? That’s the best you could come up with? I shouldn’t be surprised,” I snapped, trying to sound unimpressed even as though n*****s betrayed me, hardening under the weight of his words.

My body was such a traitor.

“You think?” His voice gave nothing away. “Besides, your scratches are still on the window.”

I tilted my head, confused. Before realization dawned on me. I’d left marks? Really? The thought sent heat pooling in my core.

“They should’ve been on you instead,” I shot back before I could stop myself. The words hung in the air, heavy and charged.

The tension in the room thickened, crackling like static electricity.

“You think?” he said again, his tone darker now. He took another step forward, and I straightened, clutching my laptop to my chest like a shield.

I straightened. “What are you here for, Thompson? Did you miss me so much you had to come looking? Or are you actually here to use your library?” My lips curved into a slight smirk.

“Oh, I’m here to make use of it. Good use,” he said, his words humming with something deeper, something that made my stomach tighten.

A wave of heat swept through me, equal parts arousal and irritation.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, stepping around him, even though I couldn’t see him clearly. His presence filled the space, making it almost impossible to breathe, but I forced myself to move.

I reached the door and turned the knob when his voice stopped me.

“And Joan?” His tone was cool now, almost mocking.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching the faintest outline of his figure in the dark.

“Next time, use your fingers on me, instead of marking my house” he said, his voice low and rough, and my entire body went still.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my face into a mask of indifference, even as heat pooled low in my stomach.

“Bold of you to think there’ll be a next time, Thompson. It was a one-time thing. Get over it,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I slipped out the door, shutting it behind me.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

But as I walked down the hallway towards the room I shared with Rhoda, my chest was tight and my mind raced.

I might’ve walked away this time, but I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to next time.

And yeah, I was still thinking about Aaron. And that too, inappropriately.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Fuck him.