One Night With My Best Friend’s Brother

If I had known Raphael Quist would be here, I would have stayed home. Or faked a broken leg. Actually no. I would have booked a different vacation in a different city, different country. Different continent, even. Freddie had promised me a peaceful week at the beach house. Just us. Sun, sleep, insanely good food, and absolutely no stress. What she had failed to mention, however, was that her little demon of a brother would be breathing the same air as me. I was halfway across the living room when I felt it. That awareness, the kind that crawls up your spine before your brain catches up. I turned slowly and there he was. Raphael Quist. Leaning against the kitchen island like he owned the place. Well, technically he did. But that's not the point. He wore a white linen two-piece, with the shirt sleeves rolled up enough to show his million dollar watch. Of course, he would look like that. Of course, he would be here. Our eyes locked. Years of history passed between us. "What are you doing here?" we said at the same time. I folded my arms. "Freddie invited me." One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. It wasn't a smile, more like he was amused by something private. "She invited me too." Great. Perfect. Fantastic. The beach house suddenly felt smaller. And it was NOT by any means small. Raphael pushed off the counter and stood properly. He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe I just forgot how much space he takes up. He looked me over — not in a gross way. Just...taking inventory. "You look the same," he said. I raised a brow. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" "It's an observation." "You still sound arrogant." "And you still sound defensive." I let out a small laugh. "We've been in the same room for thirty seconds." "And you've already decided I'm the problem." "You usually are." His gaze lingered a second longer than necessary. Something about it felt different from high school. Quieter. Heavier. Footsteps interrupted us before I could think about it too much. Freddie rushed in, glowing like she always does. "You're both here! See? This is going to be so much fun." Fun. I glanced at Raphael. He glanced at me. We both knew this was not going to be fun. Freddie wrapped her arms around me. "You two had better behave this week. I'm not doing referee duty." "We don't need a referee," Raphael said smoothly. I smiled sweetly. "We're mature adults now." He huffed under his breath. "Are we?" Freddie grabbed my suitcase. "Amaya, your room's upstairs. East wing. Right next to Raphael's." I stopped walking. "Next to his?" Freddie blinked. "Yeah? You guys have known each other forever. It's not weird." It absolutely was. Raphael's gaze met mine again. Slow and unreadable. "Should be interesting," he said under his breath. "For whom?" I shot back. "For both of us." Freddie disappeared upstairs, humming happily, completely unaware that she had just signed a peace treaty without consulting either country. The ocean stretched beyond the glass walls, waves crashing gently. It should have felt calming. Instead, I felt watched. Raphael stepped a little closer. Not so close that it felt invading, or I felt uncomfortable. Just close enough that I could feel the difference in temperature. "You still laugh when you're uncomfortable," he said. My stomach tightened. "That was high school." "And?" "And we're not in high school anymore." He studied me for a moment like he was deciding whether to say something else. Then his phone buzzed. He checked it, expression shifting instantly to business mode. Cold and controlled. Distant. "Relax, Amaya," he said. "I'm not here to ruin your vacation." "You already did by showing up." That almost smile disappeared again. "I'll try not to exist too loudly." "Please do." He walked past me then, close enough that his shoulder almost brushed mine. Almost. And I hated that my body noticed. I stood there for a few seconds after he left. Annoyed. Composed. Completely unaffected. Except for the part where my pulse wouldn't slow down. This was just a week. Seven days. I could survive seven days with Raphael Quist. I survived high school, didn't I? Right.