Page 48 of Loverboy

That was my brother.

My fucking brother.

I grabbed Oliver by the ankle and dragged him across the floor, his half-clothed body catching on the carpet, and my heart nearly shattering my ribs from its violent pounding. All of my movements felt mechanical, my entire body taut and rigid, and my skin burning with heat.

Oliver had a girlfriend. There was no reason for him to be in my brother’s bed. My thoughts overlapped, a jumbled mess of dangerous things I wanted to do, and it didn’t matter that Oliver was my best friend. Not right now.

“Milo!” Jasper grabbed my shoulder with one hand, and I zeroed in on how his other hand was holding up his jeans. His touch wasn’t soothing the way I remembered it. It didn’t make me shiver or calm me down. It felt tainted, dirty, and revolting. The taste of betrayal was acid on my tongue.

“Get away from me!” I snapped, straddling Oliver on the floor.

I didn’t hesitate. I punched him in the face, over and over and over, until I heard an awful crack and the red bled past the edges of my vision and began pouring out of his nose like a faucet.

“Milo—” Oliver tried to speak. The sound was awful. I didn’t want to hear it.

I wrapped my hands around his throat and started choking him, rage reaching a fever pitch. His face was bright red, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. If it weren’t for Jasper hooking his arms under my armpits to pull me off, I might have kept going until Oliver was unconscious.

Worse. I would have fucking killed him.

“Seriously, Milo—what the fuck are you doing?” Jasper shouted over the ringing in my ears, dragging me to the other side of the hallway and away from Oliver while I kicked out wildly.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” I barked, a choked sob rising in my throat. “Why are you fucking my friend?”

“It’s not that goddamn serious, Milo. It’s just sex.” Jasper held me from behind, his breath ragged against the back of my neck. I could feel the hard line of his erection straining against his jeans, pressing into my back, and I had to resist the urge to gag as the image of him buried in Oliver seared itself into my memory.

I wanted to believe I was this angry because it was bad etiquette to fuck your brother’s best friend, or that it was because it meant Oliver was cheating on his girlfriend again, and it went against my rigid morals. But those answers didn’t feel right; they didn’t feel honest. The ache of betrayal was more profound than that. It was bone deep and personal.

“It’s wrong,” I blurted. “He has a girlfriend.”

“So? We’re two consenting adults.”

“You know how I feel about cheating!” I shouted. “Why are you being a fucking homewrecker?”

“His relationship is none of my business. If he decides he wants to cheat on his girlfriend, that’s on him.” His voice was eerily cool now, his grip dangerously tight. “You aren’t making any sense right now. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

I was about to yell at him some more when I noticed Oliver across the hall, fully dressed, face smeared with blood, hastily collecting his things.

“Where the fuck are you going?” I hissed.

“Just go, Oliver. I’ll deal with him.” Jasper held me steady, even as I thrashed in his arms.

Oliver didn’t look at me the entire time; his head hung low with shame as he put on his shoes at the door. He didn’t have the balls to say anything to me—not that it mattered. I wasn’t about to see reason when the only thing I wanted to do was throw him off the fucking balcony.

Jasper released me from his hold as soon as Oliver was through the door, and I turned toward him, my fists clenched.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Jasper asked breathlessly, blowing sweat-damp hair out of his eyes.

The adrenaline was already waning, and my limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. My mouth opened uselessly, but no words came. I couldn’t look at his face. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

“Don’t fuck my friends.” My voice cracked, and I wanted to disappear.

“Why does it matter who I fuck?” Jasper challenged, his gaze intense, as though he were digging for something deeper.

It mattered because I thought his whole world revolved around me. He said I was his most important person, that it was us against the world. Why was he looking at someone else, touching someone else, giving someone else his attention while I was fucking falling apart?

“You’re supposed to be focused on me.” I covered my face with my hands, wiping at the onslaught of tears that I couldn’t keep at bay. “I feel like I’m drowning, and you’re off fucking my best friend when I fucking need you.”

“I’m always focused on you,” he rasped.