How (not) to date your brother's best friend

How (not) to understand

Samantha Hastings was nervous.

Chase had officially seen everything.

She had barely held on to him during the ride, and leading him into the building without a word or a glance, her silence spoke volumes. She appeared both nervous and angry, a volatile combination.

She hadn't been too happy after their little phone call and to say she had been displeased to see him when they ran into each other at her workplace... How had he never seen her before? Granted he usually sent one of the guys but...

No.

The main question was, why was she working in a grocery store?

Or living in a broken-down building?

The peeling paint, the peculiar smell, and the broken stair rail were glaring indicators of neglect. He couldn't fathom how her parents and brother allowed her to reside in such a place. He didn't get it.

Chase had always viewed Samantha as Daddy's precious little princess. She was given more privileges than her brother Stephen and had her every wish fulfilled. How could her father accept her living conditions now? Hopefully, she would solve the mystery for him.

As they approached her apartment door, the deteriorating wood and the loose handle caught Chase's attention. Samantha turned to face him, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of anxiety and a feeling of being trapped between him and the door.

Each of her breaths strained the fabric of her shirt, her chest appearing even larger than before she inhaled. But it was little Sammy, and he wasn't looking at little Sammy like that. He was noticing the changes. Nothing else.

"Look, this is a nice place, alright?"

He quirked an eyebrow. The girl who used to live in a mansion was saying the apartment, much smaller than any walk-in closet she ever had... was alright? "Sure."

For a bum.

As she swung open the door, Chase wasn't sure what to expect inside. It certainly wasn't what he found—a quaint and clean interior. However, most of the furniture was old, the floors were damaged, and the walls had peeling paint.

It wasn't like he himself lived a life of luxury, nor did he believe everyone should have one. But even when he had money, he never had the kind of wealth the Hastings possessed. Moreover, Samantha had always enjoyed a privileged lifestyle.

He doubted she could adjust to living like an ordinary person. Furthermore, her sheltered upbringing concerned him. Would she be able to recognize danger if she encountered it in this neighborhood?

Chase didn't want her to wrongly judge people, but he worried about her safety. She was a young woman living in a rough part of town, someone who had spent most of her life shielded from the harsh realities of the world. Could he be blamed for fearing that she might get hurt? He thought not.

"I have a roommate," Samantha interrupted his thoughts, her voice slightly strained. "A girl named Ellie. She works with me, so I'm not alone."

Chase leaned forward, scanning the surroundings in an attempt to spot another person, but the apartment seemed deserted. Not a sound could be heard, and there was no one in sight.

"She's... she's out of town for a few days. I swear, I'm not making her up," Samantha stammered, tugging at her sleeves and curling her shoulders inward. "You can go check her room if you don't believe me."

Chase couldn't help but notice her nervousness, a sense of self-consciousness he hadn't witnessed in her before.

"I believe you..." Chase muttered, feeling a tinge of guilt. Now that he observed her closely, the way she avoided his gaze and justified herself, he realized he had acted like an ass. "Look, Sam. I wasn't... I'm just worried about you, alright? I don't understand how you ended up here."