CHAPTER 1:THE BROTHER I COULDN'T STAND
The last person I expected to see standing in Aria's kitchen was Blake.
I froze halfway through the doorway, one hand still wrapped around the strap of my bag.
For three whole seconds, neither of us moved.
Then his eyes met mine.
And just like that, every memory I'd spent years trying to bury came rushing back.
Blake.
Aria's older brother.
My childhood enemy.
My best friend's ridiculously handsome, unbelievably irritating brother.
He leaned against the kitchen counter like he owned the entire house, dressed in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
He looked older.
Different.
Dangerously different.
But that same annoying smirk was still there.
"Well," he said slowly. "Look what the cat dragged in."
I rolled my eyes.
"Nice to see you too, Blake."
His smirk widened.
"Is it?"
"No."
He laughed.
I hated that laugh.
Actually, I hated everything about him.
At least, that was what I told myself.
"Chloe!"
Aria's voice came from upstairs.
Before I could answer, she appeared at the top of the staircase and practically flew down the steps.
"You're here!"
She wrapped her arms around me.
I laughed, hugging her back.
"I told you I'd come."
"I know, but I haven't seen you in almost two months."
"Because you abandoned me for your internship."
"You survived."
"Barely."
Aria laughed and pulled me toward the kitchen.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes moved between Blake and me.
"Oh."
I frowned.
"What?"
Aria looked at her brother.
"You're here."
Blake shrugged.
"I live here."
"Since when?"
"Since always."
"You know what I mean."
He chuckled.
"Missed you too, little sister."
Aria groaned.
"Don't call me that."
I smiled.
Some things never changed.
Aria and Blake could argue over absolutely anything.
Who finished the last slice of pizza.
Who controlled the television.
Who got the bigger bedroom growing up.
Who was their mother's favorite.
And apparently, who had the right to be in the kitchen.
I picked up my bag.
"So you're back?"
I hadn't meant to ask Blake.
But he looked directly at me.
"Looks like it."
"For how long?"
His eyes remained on mine for a second longer than necessary.
"Long enough."
Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.
I quickly looked away.
Aria didn't notice.
"Blake is staying for a while," she announced happily. "Mom and Dad wanted him around because of the family business."
"Great," I muttered.
Blake raised an eyebrow.
"You don't sound excited."
"I'm trying to contain myself."
He laughed again.
I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
"Anyway, Aria, can we go upstairs?"
"Sure."
I turned toward the stairs.
"Still scared of me, Chloe?"
I stopped.
Slowly, I looked over my shoulder.
"Scared of you?"
Blake pushed himself away from the counter.
He walked toward me.
One step.
Then another.
I hated the fact that I suddenly became aware of how close he was.
"You used to run away whenever I came into a room."
"I was twelve."
"You were terrified."
"I was annoyed."
"You screamed when I locked you outside during that thunderstorm."
"You locked me outside!"
"You survived."
I stared at him.
"You haven't changed."
His expression softened for just a moment.
"Neither have you."
Before I could respond, Aria stepped between us.
"Okay, enough."
She pointed at Blake.
"Stop bothering my best friend."
Then she pointed at me.
"And stop encouraging him."
"I wasn't encouraging him."
Blake smiled.
"You were."
I groaned.
"Aria, please."
She grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs.
As we reached the hallway, I glanced back.
Blake was still standing in the kitchen.
Watching me.
Our eyes met again.
This time, he didn't smile.
Neither did I.
I turned away quickly.
Something had changed.
I just didn't know what.
---
Later that evening, Aria and I sat on her bedroom floor surrounded by snacks, clothes, and enough gossip to keep us awake until sunrise.
"So," she said, tossing a pillow at me. "Are you seeing anyone?"
I caught it.
"No."
"Dating anyone?"
"No."
"Talking to anyone?"
"No."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
"Because I have a life."
"You don't have a love life."
"Exactly."
She laughed.
I threw the pillow back.
She caught it easily.
Then her expression suddenly became serious.
"Actually..."
"What?"
"There's something I need to tell you."
I sat up.
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Then why do you look like you're about to confess to murder?"
She sighed.
"Blake is different now."
My stomach tightened.
"Okay?"
"He isn't the same person he was before he left."
"I noticed."
"He has changed a lot."
"Good for him."
Aria studied me.
"Chloe."
"What?"
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She hesitated.
Then she lowered her voice.
"Just... don't get involved with him."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Blake."
I laughed.
"Aria, please. Your brother and I can't stand each other."
"I know."
"Then why are you saying this?"
"Because I know my brother."
She looked away.
"And I know you."
I frowned.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"Aria."
She sighed.
"Just promise me."
I stared at her.
"Promise you what?"
"That you'll never date Blake."
The room suddenly felt quieter.
I looked at my best friend.
She wasn't joking.
"Aria..."
"Please, Chloe."
I didn't understand why this mattered so much.
But she was my best friend.
The person who had stood beside me through everything.
So I nodded.
"Fine."
Her shoulders relaxed.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She smiled and hugged me.
"Good."
I hugged her back.
But neither of us noticed the shadow standing outside the half-open bedroom door.
Neither of us noticed Blake.
And neither of us heard the quiet sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about Aria's strange warning.
Don't get involved with Blake.
As if that was even possible.
Blake was annoying.
Arrogant.
Impossible.
And completely off-limits.
There was no way I would ever fall for him.
Absolutely none.
I turned over in bed and closed my eyes.
Then my phone vibrated.
I reached for it.
Unknown Number.
I frowned and opened the message.
«You shouldn't have made that promise.»
My heart stopped.
I stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
«Because I'm not sure I can keep mine.»
I sat upright.
I knew that number.
I just didn't know how he had gotten mine.
Blake.