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His grin drops and his eyes widen when he gets a good look at my screen. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I turn it toward him more fully, and he props his legs on the bed to take it from me.
“Security Breach? Like the FNAF game?” He hits the play button and is immediately assaulted by a screaming Markiplier that has him smashing the spacebar to turn it off. “You are literally insane.”
“For liking horror games or for liking Mark?”
“For not just buying the game and playing it yourself.”
Yet, he clicks about and lowers the volume, sliding one of the pillows I’m propped up against behind his back to get settled, and presses play on it again.
“I don’t have time for video games. Besides, it’s relaxing to watch other people fuck around. This man never plays anything straight through. It’s frustrating as hell, yet addicting.”
Shiloh rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, slinking down in his spot as he watches the screen.
“You’re such a loser,” he mutters, but it’s half-hearted as his attention is already caught by the game.
The two of us lapse into silence as things play out, and by the time Mark gives his signature “Buh-Bye!” I look over to see Shiloh with his head dipped down and his eyes closed.
His curls are at their worst after air drying, but it only makes me want to run my fingers through them more. To get caught and tug those strands until he gasps.
I ever so gently brush my finger over his cheek, and his lips part with a silent sigh at the touch.
There’s always so much tension and anger in his body that seeing him loose and relaxed is almost like looking at a different person.
I’ve felt an inexplicable responsibility to him ever since that night two years ago, and the more time I spend with him only makes it stronger.
I want to take care of him.
I want to bring that playful light back into his eyes.
I want him, and offering to be his warden is only bound to make that worse.
He brings out the obsessive, sadistic caretaker in me, and the next time he spouts off like he needs a rough hand to rein him in, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from giving it to him.
Chapter 7
Shiloh
“If I actually made you pay for those, I bet you’d support the whole shop,” Atlas says as he sets a fresh plate of caramel brownies in front of me.
It’s probably my fifth, and while I might let him comp one or two, I have no intention of letting Atlas’ inability to tell me ‘no’ get him fired.
“Now why would I do that when I can follow you down to the kitchen in the middle of the night and convince you to make some for me?”
I expect a chuckle, but instead I catch Atlas’ eyes drop and his shoulders droop.
Oh. Right. We don’t live together anymore. It’s not me he’ll be sneaking sweets back to in the middle of the night. I’m not the one who will sit up with him while he tries out recipes because he’s too anxious to sleep.
I gulp but force the grin back on my face, plopping my chin in my palm and waving him off. “Go on. I’ll bug you when your break starts.”
It’s the way he scratches the back of his neck and pats his hand on his apron to an erratic rhythm that tells me something is wrong. Wrong in the way that our friendship has cracked and chipped, and Atlas can’t seem to look at me the same.
He tries. We’ve constructed a semblance of our old normal from before, but it almost feels like a mask, a charade.
The bell above the door chimes, and I don’t have to look to know who walks in. Atlas’ eyes coming to life so bright I couldn’t tell they were dull only seconds before and the softest smile settling over his lips tells me who it is.
I shouldn’t resent my own brother. Not after everything he’s done for me. All my life and especially over the last few months.
