Craving my sister’s fiancé

Chapter 23

Daphne’s POV

My knuckles were white as I stood before Adrian’s door. I took a breath, but it felt thin, barely reaching my lungs. My fingers trembled as I punched in the code. I didn’t have to wait for the click; the door swung inward, and there he was.

Adrian stood in the entryway, arms crossed, his brow pulled into a tight knot. He didn't say a word. I brushed past him, keeping my eyes locked on the floor, and sank into the cushions of his couch. A moment later, the weight of the cushions shifted as he took the chair opposite me. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, until he finally cut through it.

“Are you okay?” The softness in his voice made me want to flinch.

I didn't look up. I focused on a stray thread on my jeans.

“Do you really want to do this, Daphne?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. “Do you really want to have s*x with me?”

My chin lifted slowly. I forced myself to meet his eyes, though my chest felt like it was collapsing. “Yes. I want to. Just like I texted you.”

I tried to project confidence, but my voice cracked at the end. Adrian let out a short, dry scoff.

“Let me guess. You saw Stefan with your sister.”

I stiffened. The accuracy of it stung more than the words themselves. I looked away, my vision blurring. “It doesn’t matter. I need to forget him. He’s hers. He’s her fiancé, and he loves her, and I’m… I’m just the mistake.” I gripped the edge of the couch, my voice shaking with a mix of rage and grief. “I need to accept that. I have to.”

Adrian sighed—a long, weary sound. He stood up and moved to the couch, sitting just close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him, but far enough that we weren't touching.

“I’m not a distraction, Daphne,” he said, his face settling into a grim expression. “s*x won’t fix this. Once the adrenaline wears off, you’ll just be lying here in the dark still loving him. It won't change a thing.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered, desperate to believe my own lie. “When I was with him… it changed everything.”

“That’s because you were already in love with him,” Adrian countered. He leaned back, his gaze turning distant. “Trust me. I’ve been with plenty of people, and not a single one of them made me forget my first love.”

My eyes widened. The raw honesty in his voice caught me off guard. For a second, my own heartbreak took a backseat to my shock. “Wait. You? You have someone you’re stuck on?”

A small, sad smile played on his lips for a fraction of a second before vanishing. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Was it a girl? Or a guy?” I pressed, leaning toward him.

Adrian stared at the wall for a long beat. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him. “He was my first gay awakening,” he said, trying to lace the words with his usual humor, but the facade was paper-thin. “He taught me how to suck d**k, then he ditched me.”

He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a jagged, hollow sound that echoed in the quiet room.

“How did you move on?” I asked softly.

Adrian leaned his head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “You don’t ever truly move on, Daphne. You just learn to live around the hole they left. The only way to survive it is to stay as far away as possible.”

“You never saw him again?”

“Not once,” he clipped the words short, his jaw tightening.

A strange sense of relief washed over me. I wasn’t the only one haunted by a ghost. “I’m sorry. About your first heartbreak.”

He let out a sharp, amused bark of a laugh. “Don't be. He made me exactly who I am today—a total whore.”

I couldn't help it; a small smile tugged at my lips. Adrian’s eyes softened as he watched me. “There she is. I’m glad you’re smiling. And look… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About Stefan and your sister. I didn’t mean to be a prick.”

The mention of them felt like a physical blow to my chest, a dull ache that wouldn't quit. “It’s fine,” I swallowed hard. “You weren’t lying. They were… they were fucking.”

“Ouch,” Adrian winced, giving me a sympathetic look. “Okay, change of plans. I know exactly what you need, and trust me, it’s definitely not sex.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What then?”

“Disneyland,” he said, his eyes lighting up with a sudden, mischievous spark.

“Are you insane? You have fans lurking in every corner of this city.”

“I have a disguise. No one will know it’s me.” He winked and headed toward his bedroom. “Give me ten minutes.”

As the door shut behind him, I looked at my phone. Maybe he was right. Maybe distance was the only cure. My thumb hovered over Stefan’s name. I felt a pang of nausea, but I forced myself to hit Block. It felt like severing a limb, but for the first time, I felt like I could breathe or was I just lying to myself.

**

The park wasn't too crowded, but I spent half the time doubled over laughing at Adrian. He looked ridiculous. Between the oversized, thick-rimmed glasses, a tacky Hawaiian shirt, and a bucket hat pulled low over his brow, he looked like a grandfather on a bad vacation.

We wandered past the stalls until we hit the towering shadow of the Ferris wheel. My footsteps faltered.

“I don’t like heights, Adrian,” I said, my voice climbing an octave. “I really don't like the Ferris wheel.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You need an adrenaline rush to burn off the sadness, and this is the best way to get it.” Before I could bolt, his hand clamped around my wrist. It wasn't a mean grip—it was firm and grounding—but he was already pulling me toward the loading platform.

“Adrian, this is a terrible idea!”

He ignored my protests, ushering me into the swinging metal gondola. He clicked the safety bar into place with a definitive clack.

“Just admit it,” I said, my voice trembling as I gripped the cold metal bar. “You want me dead. This is an assassination attempt.”

The ride hummed to life. With a sudden jolt, the carriage lifted off the ground. My stomach did a somersault, and my heart began to hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird. As we climbed higher and higher, the ground shrinking below us, the panic began to claw at my throat.

"Hold my hand!" Adrian shouted over the mechanical groan of the ride.

I didn't hesitate. I lunged for him, my fingers locking around his with a death grip. The moment we reached the peak, the wheel didn't just glide—it felt like it plunged. I screamed until my lungs burned, my eyes squeezed shut so tight I saw stars. If this was how I died, I promised myself I’d spend eternity haunting this specific gondola just to spite him.

By the time the ride groaned to a halt at the bottom, my legs felt like overcooked noodles. Adrian had to practically peel me off the seat, his arm hooked firmly around my waist to keep me upright.

"That," he panted, a wild grin splitting his face, "was great."

I glared at him, my chest heaving, wanting to rip his head off and hug him at the same time. But as we stepped away from the platform, the terror broke. A bubble of hysterical laughter erupted from my throat. I’d spent my whole life terrified of that height, but the rush—the sheer, heart-pounding speed of it—had momentarily drowned out the ache in my heart.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Adrian asked, looking down at me. "The adrenaline?"

I nodded, breathless and giddy. "Yeah. I felt it."

He smiled, a genuine, soft expression that reached his eyes. But then, a sharp sting hit my eyelid. "Ouch! Wait—there’s something in my eye." I began to squint and blink rapidly, the world blurring into a watery mess.

"Hold on, let me see." Adrian’s tone shifted instantly. He cupped my face, his palms warm against my skin. "Keep it open for me."

He leaned in, his breath fluttering against my cheek as he gently blew into my eye. I blinked, my vision clearing just in time to see him—really see him. His face was barely an inch from mine. The scent of his cologne and the salt of the park air filled my senses. His eyes searched mine, drifting down to my lips and back up again.

The world around us—the screaming kids, the carnival music, the smell of popcorn—faded into static. I didn't think. I just leaned in.

When our lips met, it wasn't the frantic, desperate s*x I had asked for earlier. It was slow, tasting of lingering fear and new heat.

Click.

The sound was like a gunshot.

We sprang apart, the spell breaking instantly. My heart, which had just started to settle, hammered against my ribs for an entirely different reason.

Standing a few feet away was Bella. She was beaming, her phone held up like a trophy. But it was the man beside her who made the blood turn to ice in my veins.

Stefan stood there, his face pale, his eyes dark with a look of raw, physical pain. He looked like I had just reached into his chest and squeezed. For a second, no one moved. The "happy" atmosphere of the park felt like a sick joke.