Bea Blake is a twenty five year old, law school drop out with little to no direction on what she wants from life.
Her best friend Dylan Archer has been a sound support and shoulder to lean on since the pair were in high school. Never admitting how...
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"Ugh, I came out here for some peace and quiet Brecken," I turn my back to him, frustrated by his perpetually accurate observations. "I do not like him, he's my best friend."
"I may be an obnoxious ass," he chuckles at the self inflicted insult. "But I'm not stupid Bea. I saw the way you looked at him today. You've never looked at him that way before."
"Your giant ego is obviously obstructing your vision." I turn around and smile.
He's right, he drives me absolutely insane but he's always right and that infuriates me to no end. "You didn't see anything."
"No?" He raises his brows, cocking his head to the side. "So you didn't ask him to postpone the wedding and then spend all day looking at Charlie as though you wanted to physically remove her head from her shoulders and stick it on a spike?"
"Okay, I'll ignore the fact that you were eavesdropping. But it's no secret that I hate Charlie!" I raise my finger in objection. "Id stare at her that way even if these hypothetical feelings didn't come into play."
"Hey I get it," Brecken raises his hands in a surrendering motion, "I contemplated throwing her off this very balcony more than once today."
I can't help but laugh along with him. I'm sure we both sound somewhat unhinged.
"But that doesn't change the fact that I can tell you've finally realised you love my little brother."
"Brecken!" I screech. "I do not love Dylan. Well I mean I do— as— a friend!"
"As a brother?"
I meet Brecken's testing glare, his face hovering a foot away from mine as he studies me closely. He's a lot damn smarter than he looks and it's testing my patience.
So I ask myself, do I tell him that I love Dylan as a brother and dismiss his maddening inquisition? Not that I actually think he'll drop it regardless. Or do I admit that it's definitely not a brotherly love and risk the ongoing torture that'll come with the confession?
It's a lose, lose answer and I loudly swallow the lump in my throat as I consider which answer could dismiss this conversation faster.
"That's what I thought gorgeous," he interrupts my internal churning with a smug smile before taking a swig of his beer.
I glare at him with murderous fury until an idea comes to mind, causing the corners of my lips to turn up mischievously.
"Dylan isn't the Archer brother that I want," I purr, taking a step towards him. His eyes widen as I slowly glide my finger down the length of his chest, I press our bodies flush together and glance up at him with hooded eyes, keeping up the facade so that I don't burst out laughing as his Adam's apple bops up and down.
