HELPLESS DESIRES FOR MY BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter 2

I'm stood on the pavement with my bags at my feet when Matthew finally pulls up.

I don't recognise him at first; he's driving a sleek-looking modded convertible, but when he slams his hand repeatedly down on the horn I know his patience with me is already wearing thin.

I drag my bags over to the boot and pop it open, throwing my suitcase in first.

He doesn't get out of the car, just starts reversing out of the street as soon as I've got my seatbelt on. Acting like he's got no time for me as if I'm the one that forced him to pick me up and let me reside in his living room.

I knew this was a bad idea.

"Thanks for getting me," I murmur, hoping he'll ease up with the casual dismissal I'm on the receiving end of.

I take a long look at the sleek and polished interior of a car neither of us could afford when he doesn't reply. The BMW symbol glistens at the heart of the steering wheel, surrounded with a circle of leather sewn with red trim.

In fact, the red trim seeps further. It's around the CD slot. It's pressed into the seams of the seats.

"It's my housemates," Matt says, without me having to ask. "Mum said the ceiling looks pretty grim."

I release a breath at his attempt at conversation, letting my chest finally press against the belt.

"Yeah," I half-laugh. "There's a hole in my roof. The estate agents are annoying."

"You're annoying," he responds instantly, making a smile crack out over my face. He's going to do nothing but get on my nerves for the next few weeks and I already can't wait to not live with him again. But his voice is comforting.

The first time a boy broke up with me Matt had been there, talking bad about him and cursing shame on his family. He'd been pissy and angry and he'd made me laugh more than ever.

I was fourteen at the time and he'd gotten in trouble at school for pushing the boy over the next day. When I saw him at home that evening he'd glared at me, and all I'd needed to hear were the words, 'he's a loser,' to feel that familiar comfort. It's a shame he hadn't continued to be so protective once he went on his way to university. I had missed hearing about all men being garbage.

I didn't miss his annoying cold attitude though.

"How comfy is your couch?" I ask.

He laughs and indicates left, pulling out into the street before answering.

"It'll do the trick, don't worry. You're working most days now anyway, right?"

"Oh yeah, I'm nine to five, like every other lost soul on the planet."

We talk about work for a short while. He's been doing an internship at a bank since finishing his math degree. Luckily, Paul's retirement stretches far enough to cover him for the year as he works, essentially, for free.

I've been at a sports and goods sales firm since graduating, working in their marketing department. Matt makes a joke that all I do is post on social media all day - some days I do.

"So," he says finally, after all the work talk. "How long will I be welcoming you into my humble abode?"

"I wish I could tell you." I shrug. "A few weeks. Maybe less, maybe more. Until my estate agent pulls their finger out of-"

"Alright, Maddie."

Eye roll. Nothing changes - he's still the same annoying big brother I've always had.

He pulls onto a driveway in front of a small house. I only recognise it from a picture he posted onto the family group chat when he'd first signed for the place with the elusive Noah - elusive in the sense that my mother is sure he doesn't exist, since nobody but Matt has ever met him.

There are vines crawling over the brickwork now and a small patch of grass in front of the window is overgrown. There are weeds creeping through the cobblestones leading up to the front door.

"It's cute," I say. "Homely."

Matt laughs and gets out of the car, closing the door gently. I do the same and go round to the boot to get my stuff out. He, once again, decides not to assist.

I roll my eyes again (I guess I should get used to doing that now) but tug my belongings over the cobblestones and towards the open door, half-collapsing in on myself as I cross the threshold. I run back to close the boot, seeing Matt's arm snake around the door quickly to lock the car before his arm disappears once more.

"Thanks for the help!"

Climbing over my own bags to get into the house, I struggle to close the front door. Then, stumbling into the living room, I'm immediately greeted with a strong boyish smell. The TV has been left on. There are cups and plates and cutlery scattered around as if they'd had friends round recently but hadn't got round to cleaning up yet.

"This place could do with a woman's touch," I tell him, watching him open cupboards in the connected kitchen.

"That's a little sexist for your taste, isn't it?"

I break into a smile, picking up all the dishes and piling them on top of each other, playing a balancing game to get them over to the sink. He begins making a sandwich as I roll up my sleeves.

"I'll just make myself at home, then?"

"Oh Maddie, please." He scoffs, "You know as well as I do that you're going to do that anyway. I'm just hurrying you along."

I turn and kick the back of his knee.

"So where's Noah?" I ask, looking around the kitchen for any sign that he's been in here. "Or has he conveniently disappeared recently?"

Not even a picture or magnet on the fridge.

"Just because mum hasn't met my mate doesn't mean I've made him up."

He takes a bite out of a sandwich and drops a piece of tomato on the floor. Then he looks at me with doe eyes, leans down, and puts it back on the sandwich.

"Gross," I tell him pointedly.

There's a click of silence that I'm worried won't be filled.

"Noah's working late," he grumbles. "You'll meet him in a few hours."

"What does he do for work?"

"What's with the questionnaire?" He asks, walking back through to the living room. "I'm taking a girl out tonight and I've got to take Noah's car back. Can you entertain yourself for a few hours?"

"You're just going to leave me here on my own?"

Christ, I'd only moved in five minutes ago. How do I even work the TV?

Matt is already walking up the stairs though, so I just continue with the dishes and glare at the tiles in front of me.

What a mess my life has become overnight.

By the time I've done them all, the shower is on upstairs and Matt's speaker is playing some DnB anthem that he'd listened to when we were still in high school. If this doesn't bring back memories of living with our parents, nothing will.

I use the time to drag all my bags into the living room, shoving them under various tables and into corners nobody could trip over them, finally dropping onto the couch once I feel I've made the place look presentable enough.

By the time I figure out the TV Matt's already back downstairs, damp and smelling of Lynx Africa. I cough at the assault on my nose. As if this room didn't smell enough like boy already.

"Are you planning to eDate this girl or did you actually want to make her cry?"

"What?" he asks, looking down at his outfit.

"You smell like you're going to prom," I tell him. He stares at me. "Tone down the lynx, lover boy."

"Oh!" He winces, "this is my last clean shirt. She won't mind." He pauses by the door as he grabs the set of keys we came in with, hovering. "I'm feeling kind of bad." I scoff. "I'm serious, Maddie!" He laughs. "Do you want me to stay here and show you around or whatever?"

"Go away," I wave him out with my hand. "I'm going to watch The Bachelor."

Once he leaves I unpack my pajamas, change in the bathroom after a long shower and plait my hair as I watch the bachelor of the week hand out his roses in the ceremony. I sit over a bowl of cereal at dinner, text my mum about the worst Saturday I've possibly ever had (thus far) and unpack a handful of different coloured blankets from my bags to melt into on the sofa.

Re-runs play on the TV as I drift off, the twinkling of the TV lighting up the room intermittently.

The slam of the front door jolts me awake.

The TV is still playing but the room is colder than before, a draft drifting through from the entryway.

"What the f**k?" A voice says quietly. It's deep and velvety and has a rasp to it that sends a shiver through me. I stay frozen under the blankets, staring at the ceiling above as I hear him move around near the front door.

Noah does exist then.

He shuffles towards me quietly, his shadow looming over the room.

"Matt's sister, I presume?" God, his voice is like f*****g butter. It's melting over my body and making the blankets stick to me. I push myself up with my arms, craning my neck over the back of the sofa to see him standing in the opening between this room and the open plan kitchen.

If he hears my intake of breath he doesn't say anything.

From the reflection of the TV screen, his olive-skin is glistening. The contours of his face are deep rivets that I want to reach out and run my fingers down, and he's staring at me with cerulean eyes that models would die for. Long stray pieces of his brown hair lay over his forehead, the rest covered by an over-sized hoodie with black stains over the front.

He walks towards the couch and my eyes widen. He's tall. I thought I was tall but this man could tower me, and when he reaches a hand towards me, there's an intricate clock tattooed on the back of his hand and his fingers have bones tattooed over them. There's a skull on his neck. And wings.

Fucking hell.

My hand reaches out by itself.