Dangerously Right

3

Siena POV

“Sisi!”

Benny’s voice cuts through the street just as I climb out of the cab. I smile, lifting my hand in a small wave, but my gaze drifts past him to the house.

It looks like it has been lifted straight out of a magazine. Sharp, clean lines and smooth white walls gleam in the sunlight. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows frame the façade, reflecting the sky and the neatly trimmed lawn. A sleek balcony juts from the upper floor, its dark slatted screen giving just enough privacy while hinting at the view beyond. A wide garage dominates one side of the house, its smooth doors blending seamlessly into the modern exterior. The house radiates quiet confidence, a space that doesn’t need to shout to be noticed.

Benny doesn’t give me time to overthink it. He grins like the world just handed him the best surprise, and his eyes sparkle with the kind of joy that makes everything feel lighter. He wraps his arms around me, lifting me straight off the ground, spinning me once before setting me back down. His shoulders are broad, his arms warm and solid, and his smile stretches wide, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle just enough at the corners.

“I can’t believe how grown up you look!” he says, stepping back to take me in fully. His hair is a little mussed, like he ran his fingers through it in excitement, the golden tones catching in the light. “I think I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you.”

It had been years since I’d seen him. Years since frizzy hair, thick glasses, and the endless awkward silences that followed me everywhere. Years since I learned to duck my head in hallways. Smile too quickly. Laugh too softly, just to survive.

I learned how to tame my curls, how to make myself small in a room that didn’t want me, and how to hide behind lenses that kept the world blurry enough to forget I existed. I started running, sometimes literally, just to escape, but also figuratively, running toward a version of myself that could be noticed without shame. Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling invisible.

“I’ll show you around,” he says, grabbing my bag. “Then I’ll take you to campus. It’s quiet now. Most of the guys are getting ready for tonight. Fair warning… we throw a lot of parties.”

The moment we step inside, I hear music playing somewhere in the house, low and steady beneath the sound of male voices and easy laughter. Someone calls out from the backyard, followed by a muffled reply, and another voice answers from outside.

My stomach twists. Throughout high school, the jocks had been cruel to me, only showing me any interest once I’d had my “glow-up,” as Mom called it. And now I was moving in with them.

The air smells faintly of polish and, yeah, a hint of stale beer. A wide staircase with floating wooden steps and a glass railing stretches up to the second floor, catching the light from tall windows. The living room is massive, open, and strikingly sleek: a low sectional in soft gray leather, a glass coffee table reflecting the sunlight, and a pool table tucked into one corner. A TV dominates the opposite wall, bigger than anything I’ve ever owned. Minimalist shelving displays a few scattered books and quirky knickknacks, evidence of people actually living here.

“This is the living room,” Benny says, and I nod, taking it all in. Modern, clean, and effortless, but somehow still unmistakably a frat house.

God, I’m moving into a frat house.

The kitchen opens straight onto the backyard, cool air drifting in through the open doors. Sleek white cabinets gleam under recessed lighting, and the countertops are polished stone, spotless except for a few scattered coffee mugs. Stainless steel appliances catch the sunlight, and a long island with bar stools dominates the center, perfect for study sessions—or parties.

Through the glass, the pool sparkles in the sunlight, its edges sharp and clean. A few guys are scattered around it, relaxed and laughing, completely at home in a place that already feels enormous to me.

“Guys,” Benny calls, “this is my cousin, Siena Winslow.”

Two of them look up as I step outside. One of them doesn’t, though, and the knot in my chest tightens. The one by the pool looks familiar. His dark hair is dripping wet, water catching the sunlight as it runs down his temples. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and moves with a casual confidence that somehow makes the yard feel smaller. His skin is warm and rich in tone, and his eyes flick over me, not slow enough to be rude, not fast enough to miss anything. His mouth curves into an easy, knowing smile, the kind that pulls the eye.

“Siena,” he says, standing. “Pleasure to meet you. I think we met in Aspen four years ago, didn’t we? If you need anything, just ask.”

He takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he turns it and presses his lips to the back. Heat crawls up my neck.

“Caleb!” Benny warns, making the good-looking guy in front of me grin.

Benny shoots Caleb a warning look before gesturing toward the loungers.

“That’s Austin.”

A blond-haired guy looks up from his phone, giving me a charming smile that shows off a dimple in his left cheek. He’s just as good-looking as Caleb, his skin tanned, and even lying down, I can see the muscles shifting beneath his skin.

I feel my cheeks heating up. God, I hope they don’t walk around half-naked all the time. I have no idea where to look.

His eyes. Look at his eyes.

“Welcome to Carver,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“And that’s Dorian. It’s his house.”

Dorian is stretched out in the sun, eyes closed, like the world can do whatever it wants around him and he won’t bother reacting. His dark hair is slicked back, still damp, a few strands curling at his temples. His shoulders are broad, his arms resting loosely at his sides, and his legs stretch out in front of him. Even lying down, there’s something imposing about him. He looks completely at ease, like he belongs exactly where he is and has never had to question whether he does.

There’s something different about him. Caleb is charming. Austin is… well, Austin is impossible not to notice. But Dorian doesn’t seem to be doing anything at all, and somehow he’s the one I’m most aware of.

Even without opening his eyes, he feels… present. My hands curl into tiny fists before I notice I’ve made them. A strange awareness prickles across my skin, sudden and unwelcome, like he’s already made his presence known without even looking. Like he’s choosing not to look rather than unaware that I’m there.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” I say quietly, my voice sounding too small even to me.

Nothing. No movement. No reaction.

I glance at Benny, unsure, but he just smiles like this is normal.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you your room.”

As we head inside, Caleb’s voice carries after us. “If you get scared, Siena, I’m just down the hall.”

“I’m glad you have a lock on your door,” Benny mutters under his breath as we climb the stairs.

The hallway upstairs is flooded with morning light from the tall windows, pooling across the pale wood floor. My footsteps echo softly alongside Benny’s, amplified by the smooth, polished boards as we move toward the end of the hallway. A faint scent of lemon polish mixes with the warm undertone of his aftershave, making the space feel both clean and lived-in.

He leads me all the way to the end, opens a door, and steps aside.

“And this is yours.”

I stop short.

The room is bigger than my entire little house back home. A huge arched window stretches almost floor to ceiling, letting sunlight spill in and catch the soft dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Near the window, a few boxes are stacked neatly, reminders of the life I’m about to start here. The walls are crisp and white, bare but elegant, and the smooth floor glows softly under the light. A massive bed dominates the center, its soft pink sheets already smoothed into place. Two doors face each other: one a walk-in closet, the other an en-suite bathroom with sleek fixtures and a faint, clean scent.

There’s nothing personal yet, no clutter, no traces of someone else’s life. It’s a blank canvas, beautiful and intimidating all at once.

“Mom sent some things,” Benny says, pointing to a mirror on a vanity. “I made the bed. I’ll go get your bags and help you organize the rest later.”

I turn slowly, letting the warmth and light wash over me. “This is… amazing. Thank you. I know you didn’t want to babysit me.”

“Sisi,” he says gently, “we’re family. I don’t mind.”

He smiles and steps back, heading off to grab my bags. I drift toward the window, looking down at the backyard. Caleb is laughing, mid-conversation with Austin, but my eyes settle on Dorian.

He hasn’t moved.

Still lying there with his eyes closed, completely unaffected by everything happening around him.

I watch him for a moment longer than I should.

There’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know if it’s the way he seems so completely sure of himself or the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to look at me.

Whatever it is, I can’t seem to look away.