Page 77 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

"I didn't say it was my childhood memento, Lexi," he says, practically stomping his foot. "I was lamenting the loss of childhood as a general concept."

I nod, laying a hand on my chest in mock emotion. "I forgot what a proponent of childhood you are. It's why you act as if you're still entrenched in your own," I say with a grin.

He drops his hand and moves it to his hip, glaring at me. "Okay, well, now I know why you were standing here by yourself. Sheesh. Was just trying to keep things interesting." He takes a long swig of his beer and continues to glare at me.

I let out a cough to hide my laugh. "I mean, I was entertained. Does every conversation you have end up with memories of you crying?"

He's not impressed. "And here I thought I was doing a good deed, coming over to keep my best bro's little sister company while she was looking lonely."

I cock an eyebrow and gesture to the fridge shelf. "Does it honestly look like I was lonely? I mean, Freya's gonna be holding next weekend's party in my honour, for all the time I've saved her when she's looking for the perfect spiciness for her chicken tenders."

His beer bottle hovers halfway to his mouth as his eyes travel down the length of my body and then he says, "No. Far from it."

I frown. "Who's far from what?"

"You. Look far from lonely. In fact, you're looking smoking hot today, Lexi." His eyes flare hot for a second, and then he takes another drink, finishing it off in one gulp.

Huh? I look down at my outfit — still in the denim skirt and black halter top I came from uni in. I don't look hot. I look like I made zero effort. Which was the exact look I was going for.

"Shut up. I know I look like a bridge troll compared to everyone else here. But you don't have to make fun of me because of it."

He puts the bottle down and tucks both hands into his pockets, looking up at me, eyes dark and earnest. "Why the fuck would I be making fun of you?"

"Because I'm Leon's sister and it's what you guys—" I swallow. "—it's what you do."

He clears his throat, and takes two steps closer to me, and suddenly I can't breathe. He leans down. "And what if I'm sick of what I've always done when it comes to you."

Is this when I tell him that all I've wanted from him is for him to see me as someone other than Leon's sister? Do I tell him that anything he might've thought about doing differently with me, I've already imagined a hundred times over?

I don't get a chance to ponder what other utterly stupid thing I could say to him, because someone bangs into us as they stumble to the fridge.

"Sorry," he murmurs as he grabs a water, slamming the fridge, and looks over at me. "Oh hey, you're cute, I've been watching you all night. You wanna have a dance?"

Marcus steps in front of me, his arm coming up to shield me. "No, she doesn't."

The guy frowns, too many drinks deep to realise that arguing with a six-foot-two tradie is a bad idea even sober. "Mate, could you give us a minute? I'm trying to talk to the babe."

"Yeah, babe, and I'm trying to tell you, that that's not going to happen."

"And why's that, tough guy?" Drunkard Dimwit reaches out and gives Marcus a playful little punch on his arm.

I groan and rub my forehead. Well, this isn't going to end well. My relationship with Leon's friends may be complicated and, apparently, in a state of confusion, but one thing that has always been abundantly clear, is how protective they are of me. I brace myself, waiting for Marcus to tell this jerk that I'm his little sister and send him on his way.

But then Marcus utterly surprises me by moving his arm so that it snakes around my waist, he yanks me in against him. My air wooshes out of my lungs. But I can't tell if it's from the impact or from the sheer thrill of feeling Marcus's toned, hard body against mine. And it only gets worse when I hear him say, "Because she's taken."

My mouth drops open. But before I can say anything, the guy lifts his hands up and backs off. "Say no more." And then he turns away mumbling under his breath to his friend. "She wasn't worth the trouble anyway."

My cheeks blaze red in embarrassment, and I step out of Marcus's hold. "I could've taken care of that myself."

But he's still staring after him, as if he wants to follow. I tug on his arm, trying to get his attention.

"What?" he says, as if he just noticed me there.

I frown. "I said, 'I could've taken care of that myself.'"

He blinks a few times, and then shakes off whatever thought has him in a trance. And then he's just Marcus again. "Of course you could. Never doubted it for a second." He grins, unrepentant, and instead of looking like a cocky dick, he just looks charming. It's exactly why Marcus has a never-ending revolving door to his bedroom, and why I've secretly wished I'd been through it, even just once. "Wanted to handle it for you, though. Sue me," he finishes, utterly oblivious to the thoughts in my head.

There's a loud cheer as a game of beer pong starts and the noise kicks it up ten decibels. I rub my head. Coming here after being in the library all day was a bad idea.