My Brothers Best Friend [18+]

Chapter Two

There's an incessant buzzing in my ear. I want to swat it away like an annoying fly, but it gets louder and louder and - 

Wait a second. 

"What?" I feel myself groan, turning over and pulling the blankets up higher. 

"Get up, we're going out for breakfast." Matt's voice penetrates my ears, so I continue to groan at him. "Unless you don't want a greasy sausage and egg McMuffin right now? With an extra hash brown?" 

I pull one of the blankets from my face, squinting at the sunlight that comes through the window. Matt and Noah stand side by side against the counter in the kitchen, eyeing me. 

I automatically feel a blush rise through my cheeks as I meet Noah's eye. He looks down at the couch I'm splayed across, and I follow his line of sight to one of my legs, exposed in the open, looking smooth and lanky and just as pale as ever in the sunlight. 

I pull myself into a seated position, tipping my head back and stretching my arms up above me. 

"This couch is not comfortable, Matt, for the record." 

He snorts and tells me to get ready again. Both he and Noah look away as I stand up, talking with each other quietly as I scramble around my various bags and collect together a passable outfit for a lazy Sunday. 

I go upstairs to change, take my hair out of the plaits I'd put in the night before and let it fall around my shoulders. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I try to see myself through Noah's eyes. I wonder if he'd like my pale skin, my long ginger hair that I'd gotten from my mother - wondered if I'd compliment his tanned bad boy look if I hung off his arm while we ran errands. 

"I have it bad," I speak to myself. 

As I'm brushing my teeth, I'm hoping he's an asshole. I hope his personality is a huge turn off, but that killer smile last night is telling me otherwise. Matt wouldn't befriend someone who was an asshole to his sister, it's not in his nature. 

"Are you ready?" Matt shouts from the bottom of the stairs.  

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and make my way downstairs. Noah is stood against the front door, fiddling with his keys. 

"I'm driving," he says. 

"Shotgun." I reply, and the grin that spreads across his face makes me giddy. 

Matt is gutted I've already called shotgun once we get through the door, accepting it like a child, whining about being pushed aside by his best friend as he gets into the back seat. 

I slip back into the leather of the passenger seat, breathing in the musky scent of the car that I hadn't fully appreciated the day before. 

Noah's almost too big for the car, his seat lies all the way back to accommodate the length of his legs, but he gets in comfortably, immediately making a fist around the gear-stick as he presses the key into the ignition. 

"Jesus Christ," I whisper to myself, staring at the size of his hand around the stick; the faded clock tattoo staring back at me. 

How does someone look that good doing something as monotonous as driving?

My brother is kicking the back of my chair, still moaning about being in the backseat as I meet Noah's eyes again. 

He smiles at me, putting an arm around the back of my chair and twisting his body to start reversing out of the driveway. I allow myself to look back at his flexed arm once and swallow heavily.

"How was your date, Matt?" I force myself to ask. 

"Give me the front seat and I'll tell you," he leans between the seats as Noah drives down the road. "Homewrecker."