In Love with My Brother's Best Friend

EUNICE “Eunice, come down and eat before the house turns into complete chaos!” Mom’s voice echoed up the stairwell, carrying that sharp, familiar mixture of maternal worry and impatience. “Paulo’s friends are going to start pouring through that door any minute. Once they get here, you’ll lock yourself upstairs again. You know how you get around large crowds!” The second the words “Paulo’s friends” left her mouth, I bolted upright in bed and rushed to crack my bedroom door open. Down the hall, Mom was already heading back down to the kitchen. I tiptoed to the landing and peeked over the wooden railing, carefully scanning the living room below. Only our close cousins were scattered across the sofas, laughing and helping themselves to the early buffet spread. Safe. For now. I slipped out of my room and padded quietly down the stairs. Today was Paulo’s twenty-first birthday. It was also his final week living at home before moving into his new apartment in the city for his corporate banking job. Naturally, Mom had turned a simple family birthday into a massive, full-blown send-off party. That meant the entire house was about to be packed to the brim with noisy relatives, old high school classmates, random neighborhood well-wishers, and—most terrifying of all—his former college basketball teammates. Front and center among that crew was Denver Chui. Denver was Paulo’s best friend since their high school varsity days, and the undisputed resident heartbreaker on campus for years. Tall, effortlessly handsome, and charming enough to talk his way out of anything, Denver had a reputation that preceded him. But loyal? That wasn't exactly his strong suit. A classic playboy through and through. With him coming, half the female guest list was likely showing up purely in hopes of catching his eye. For someone like me—who would genuinely prefer hiding in a dark hallway over making superficial small talk with strangers—this event was my personal nightmare. Mom understood my social anxiety, which was the only reason she was letting me sneak some food before the real crowd descended. "Eunice, are you serious right now? You're actually wearing that?" I froze at the bottom of the stairs. My cousin Beatrice was staring at me like I had just walked out in a trash bag. I blinked, looking down at my faded, oversized pajama shirt and plaid sleep shorts. "What's wrong with it?" "You're literally in sleep clothes!" Beatrice scolded, tossing her styled hair back. "It’s your brother’s send-off party! Couldn't you at least put on a pair of jeans? People are already arriving!" "That's kind of the point," I grumbled under my breath. "I'm trying not to be seen." "Wait, is Denver really coming tonight?" my other cousin, Sophia, asked, instantly abandoning her plate to smooth down her tight red dress. "Yep," Beatrice answered, looking way too pleased with herself. "Auntie said Paulo drove over to pick him up a little while ago." "Oh no, quick—how’s my lipstick?" Sophia squeaked, frantically digging through her purse for a compact mirror. I ignored their dramatic preening, quietly snatching a plate and piling it high with pancit and lumpia from the dining table. The strategy was simple: load up on food, sprint back upstairs, and comfortably survive the night behind a locked door. My plan was nearly executed—until the low, rhythmic rumble of heavy motorcycle engines vibrated through the living room windows. I froze, glancing out the front glass. Paulo pulled his bike into the driveway first, turning off the ignition. Right behind him, Denver swung his leg off the back of his sleek black motorcycle, holding his helmet under one arm. That ridiculous, pitch-perfect smile of his was already firmly in place. Several more bikes rolled in behind them, loaded with loud, laughing passengers from their old crew. My grip tightened around the edges of my paper plate. Denver started walking up the paved walkway toward our front door, moving with that lazy, confident stride that made it look like he owned the entire neighborhood. Behind me, my cousins erupted into high-pitched, excited squeals. Abort mission. Room. Now. I had barely settled onto my bed with my plate when a sharp, impatient knock rattled my bedroom door. "Eunice, do you have a spare phone charger upstairs?" Mom called out from the hallway. "Someone down here needs one!" I frowned, setting my food aside. "Mom, my phone uses a Type-C Android cord! No one down there uses that." "It's a Samsung charger, Eunice! Just bring it down, please!" Paulo’s loud voice boomed from somewhere further down the corridor. Mom sighed through the wood. "Just open up and hand it to your brother, sweetheart. I’ve got a million dishes to handle in the kitchen." Great. Fantastic. I grabbed the tangled white cord from my nightstand, grumbling under my breath the entire way to the door. I cracked it open and stepped out into the hallway. The sheer volume of the party hit me like a physical wall—roaring laughter, overlapping shouting matches, and heavy bass music starting to pulse through the floorboards. An instant spike of anxiety shot through my chest. Standing halfway down the stairwell, I decided yelling down was significantly safer than walking into the sea of people. "Paulo!" I called out, holding up the cord. "Here's the charger!" Footsteps took the wooden stairs two at a time. But when the figure turned the corner of the landing, it wasn't my brother. It was Denver. Damn it. "Hey, Eunice," Denver greeted softly. His voice was low, warm, and rich. Dark brown eyes locked straight onto mine, instantly making the loud, chaotic house vanish into the background. "Long time no see. You good?" I froze mid-step on the stairs, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. The charger hung completely forgotten from my numb fingers. "Oh... uh, here," I stammered, awkwardly thrusting the cord out toward him. He stepped closer, taking the charger from my hand with agonizing slowness. That lazy, dangerous smirk of his slowly spread across his face. "Thanks. My phone died on the ride over and I need to make a quick call. I'll bring it right back up to you." "No problem," I blurted out way too quickly, already pivoting my feet to retreat back up the steps. "Wait." His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. "Are you coming down tonight?" Denver asked, tilting his head slightly. "Come hang out with us for a bit. Might be the last time the whole high school crew is together in one place. I'm leaving soon too, you know." I paused, looking back over my shoulder. "You are?" "Yeah," he murmured, his gaze holding mine. "Heading to the States next week." "Oh." A sudden, uncomfortable knot twisted in my stomach. "So... this is kinda your goodbye party, too." Denver let out a soft, low chuckle—a sound that slid straight down my spine and sent a nervous shiver through my body. "More like an excuse for Paulo and the guys to get hammered and act dramatic." He stepped up onto the next riser. He was close now—far too close. The faint scent of cool mint, leather, and expensive cologne brushed against my face. My traitorous brain glitched for a second, suddenly forcing an unwanted mental picture of what his mouth would feel like pressed against mine, hot and demanding. Get a grip, Eunice. "So... are you coming down or what?" he asked again, his dark eyes glinting with a teasing, subtle heat. "I... uh... maybe," I mumbled, suddenly finding the pattern on the stair carpet deeply fascinating. "Hey, Denver! Stop flirting with my little sister, you asshole!" Paulo’s voice suddenly bellowed from the bottom of the staircase. Denver didn't even bother breaking eye contact with me. He just chuckled, low and completely unbothered by my brother's threat. "Your brother has terrible timing," Denver murmured, his voice dropping into a hush intended strictly for my ears. "But seriously... it’d be really nice to see you down there, Eunice. Even if it's just for a little while." My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I was convinced he could hear it. I opened my mouth to form a coherent sentence, but nothing came out. Paulo’s heavy footsteps began pounding rapidly up the stairs. "I'm dead serious, man! Hands off the kid!" Denver finally turned, raising both hands in mock surrender while still holding the charger in his palm. "Relax, bro, I was literally just grabbing the cord," he called down smoothly. Then, he flicked his gaze back to me, giving me one last slow, burning look that made my breath catch. "Think about it, yeah?" As he turned to head back down the stairs, his shoulder intentionally brushed against mine. The subtle contact sent a sharp jolt of electricity shooting straight through my nerves. I remained completely frozen on the landing, my cheeks burning hot, my fingers clenching the wooden handrail so tightly my knuckles turned white. What on earth just happened?