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“Excuse me?”
“The reasons we can’t hang out. Name then.”
“Fine. You’re Theo’s sister. His little sister. I’m five years older than you. We’re in group therapy together. And I don’t do friends.”
“One. Theo is my brother, not my keeper. He doesn’t get to say who I do or don’t hangout with. Two. I’m asking you to hang out, not engage in an illicit relationship with me. You’re pretty and all, but I like boys. Sorry.”
My mouth falls open at her audacity, and she chuckles.
“Three. Being in therapy together means we have a common interest which gives us a legitimate reason to hang out. And four. Perhaps it’s time you did do friends.”
“You’re kind of scary for a twelve-year-old.”
“Why do you think I drive Theo up the wall so much? Please say yes. I find it hard to make friends too and being an Heir’s sister isn’t exactly easy.”
“He won’t like it,” I remind her.
“All the more reason to do it.”
She does have a point.
I make the fatal mistake of smiling and she catches it. “A-ha. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“I… fine. We can hangout. But let’s keep it low-key, yeah?”
“You mean a secret. I can totally do that. See you later, friend,” she calls, taking off toward the main school building.
This is a bad idea.
But there’s something about Millie.
It must be those Ashworth genes.
12
THEO
Aloud groan rips from my lips as my phone vibrates on my bedside table, waking me up and letting me know that the whisky last night was a really fucking bad idea.
Fucking good night though.
With this weekend’s party planned for this evening, we just hung out as a group here and got wasted. Or at least I did.
What the fuck else was I meant to do while being the fucking gooseberry?
Again.
Liv and Reese, Tally and Oak, clueless fucking Elliot and Abi, and then me. All alone nursing a glass of whisky with only the promise of my right hand for company when they all started slipping off to bed.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a whole heap of numbers in my phone that would have gladly walked away from whatever they were doing to have a little fun down in our basement. But the idea didn’t appeal. Not one bit.
The only person who seems to get my dick stirring in any way right now is her.
And it fucking shouldn’t because I’m sure my poor little soldier is still sporting an injury from the first and only time she’s ever touched him.
I shift in my seat as my balls ache, remembering her vice grip all too well. Doesn’t fucking stop me from getting hard for her though.
The way her eyes darkened the second I wrapped my hand around her throat, her thundering pulse, and the way she begged for me to hold harder.
