16. Amelia
Chapter 16
Amelia
" I s this okay for where we're going?" I ask, stepping into the living room to meet Tobias.
His eyes drop to my nude heels, then start a slow climb up my body, taking in every detail—the black jeans that hug my ass, the fitted tank that clings to my chest, highlighting the parts of me I've never been shy about.
I'm not what anyone would call petite. I'm short, yes, but I'm all curves—hips, chest, and a softness that's worlds away from the classic ballet form. But my body is powerful, capable, and strong, and I wouldn't change anything about it.
Once Tobias finishes his inspection, his eyes finally return to my face, and the heat that erupts beneath my skin is immediate. His jaw tightens for a split second before he drops his snarky response.
"You could've made an effort, Firefly."
"You're a dick," I say, grabbing my purse from the side table and tossing in my lip gloss and phone. "Do you even own anything that isn't black or white?"
"Not really," he says, the words slipping out casually, but I'm barely listening.
He's dressed in all black tonight. His dark T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders, ink twisting along his arms, covering his skin from top to bottom. And my body appreciates every single inch of it.
He looks… devastatingly good.
The mouthwatering, heart-stopping, can't-breathe kind of beautiful.
I try to shake the thoughts of him away, but a quiet, traitorous laugh slips out before I can rein it in.
"Something funny?" he asks, one eyebrow arching in that effortlessly cocky way, his gaze pinning me as he waits for me to answer.
"Just imagining you in a bright-red T-shirt and some yellow pants," I grin at him, reaching for the jacket I bought especially for tonight. It's a deep, inky black, fitted just right for my body.
"If Ronald McDonald is your kink, baby, just say it."
My eyes snap toward him so fast it's a miracle he doesn't flinch.
He didn't mean to speak to me like that.
Like I'm not me.
His eyes, pale as arctic ice but burning like blue flames, lock onto mine a beat too long, betraying every thought he's trying to keep hidden.
Then, just as quickly, the mask drops back into place.
"I know you like the nuggets, but I didn't know you wanted the clown too."
"Tobias, if I wanted a clown, I'd have one, considering I'm living with you." I let the words settle, daring him to brush them off as easily.
But he can't.
Instead, he steps into my space, closing the distance between us. One second I'm breathing my own air, the next I'm drowning in him.
His hand moves slowly, deliberately, and before I can think, let alone react, his fingers graze the side of my neck. My breath stutters, catching in my throat as my chest rises and falls against this tight-as-fuck shirt, while butterflies take over my stomach.
My body's caught in a war I can't win—half of me aching to lean into him, to feel his grip tighten until there's no escape, and the other half screaming to back away before I dive headfirst into something I won't be able to claw my way out of.
His fingers skim lightly along my skin, trailing up toward my hairline, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, with a suddenness that makes my heart race, his hand yanks away from my neck, and a ripping sound splits the air.
"The tag was still in it. You're welcome." I internally scream as he tosses the tag in the trash like nothing just happened.
He moves toward the door, cool as ever, with a quick, subtle nod that says, We're leaving, no questions asked.
What the hell was that?
Those five words echo in my mind the entire Uber ride like my brain's gone full-on masochist.
He flirted with me. He can call it tag pulling all he wants, but his fingers grazed my skin just enough for me to feel it and know exactly what he was doing.
He wasn't just touching me. He was baiting me. He dragged his fingers over my skin like he was daring me to react while attempting to coax the kind of response he could feel beneath his fingertips.
And the worst part? My body betrayed me, the traitorous bitch, offering up every sign he wanted. He knows women, knows their tells, knows precisely what to look for, and how they respond to him, and I was no different.
Tobias holds the door open for me, and the moment I step inside the bar, it feels like walking straight into fall. One wall is covered in a stunning display of flowers and leaves in shades of orange, gold, and green, and at the back of the room, the bar stands out as the centerpiece, and behind it, a massive mirror stretches across the entire wall.
I spot Harry toward the corner of the room, standing up and waving us over with a grin that could light up the whole bar. Beside him is a stunning brunette, her glossy hair catching the light and her wide smile perfectly matching his energy.
"Where's Blondie and the professor?" Tobias asks as we reach the table.
"Late, as usual," the brunette—who I'm assuming is Jen—rolls her eyes before giving me a small wave. "You must be Amelia. It's so nice to finally meet you."
"Mills, this is Jennifer."
"Nice to meet you too," I say, sliding into the booth beside Tobias, directly across from Jen and Harry.
"It's Jen," she corrects, shooting Tobias a look that's both annoyed and amused. "Tobias just lives to get under my skin."
"It's a love-hate relationship," he replies with a devilish grin, his eyes never leaving hers.
"It's mostly hate," she counters, crossing her arms but unable to hide the hint of a smile.
Tobias leans in, raising his eyebrows. "It seems like you're protesting a bit too much, Jennifer."
"You're lucky I love your best friend."
The flirty banter isn't a thing between us.
Well, it wasn't until tonight when, for the briefest moment, he decided to try it out in a way I was absolutely not prepared for.
"Here they are," Harry says, drawing my attention.
I turn, and there’s Tessa, her fingers laced with a man who looks like the universe’s apology gift to every woman who’s ever suffered through bad dates and guys whose idea of personality begins and ends with a gym selfie and a protein shake.
Tessa's grin is blinding, like she's just casually won at life, and honestly? She might have. If there's a God, He's clearly decided Tessa is His favorite, and the truth is, she's so nice that she probably deserves it.
For a solid, humiliating moment, I'm frozen. I feel like a walking, talking goldfish—staring wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, and with absolutely no dignity left in my body.
A soft chuckle rumbles from Tobias beside me, and before I can gather myself, he leans in close, his breath brushing against my ear. The shudder is immediate, like a live wire sparking beneath my skin.
"You might wanna collect your jaw," he murmurs.
I snap my gaze to him, and he's right there—too close, eyes dancing with a hint of mischief that feels dangerously tempting. Instinct kicks in, and I shove him back, but he's already laughing.
"Don't worry. I don't know anyone who hasn't had that reaction to him."
"Finally! Where have you two been? Actually, don't answer that," Jen says, her eyebrow arching with a look that suggests she knows exactly what they've been up to—or, at least, what anyone in their right mind would be doing if they had this particular man at their disposal.
"Mills, this is Tessa's professor, Zane." Tobias's introduction draws my eyes back up to the man in question. The dark gray of his shirt does criminal things for his shoulders, and when those amber eyes lock onto mine, I forget every word in the English language.
"You're such an ass," Tessa snaps at Tobias, rolling her eyes, though the grin tugging at her lips betrays her.
Zane's gaze shifts back to me, and he smiles—a slow, easy smile that has absolutely no business being that attractive.
"It's good to meet you, Amelia."
Oh hell. Even his voice is hot.
"You too," I say, the words tumbling out before I can think.
You too?
I mentally cringe.
"How are you settling into Chicago?" Zane asks, still holding my gaze like he's genuinely interested in my answer.
"It's definitely different, but I like it here."
Jen's voice cuts in suddenly, "When do you start your dancing job?"
"Thursday," I reply, nodding as I glance around the table. "I've been making the most of my free time, trying to enjoy these last few days before I forget what it's like to actually have any."
Before anyone can respond, Tobias’s voice slices through the chatter, and all eyes turn to him.
"First round's on me. Everyone having their usual?" he asks, and the group gives an enthusiastic yes. "Mills? Want to come help me?" He slides out of the booth, extending a hand toward me, which I take as he helps me up and guides me out while Zane and Tessa take our seats.
At the far end of the room, we reach the bar where a woman waits behind the counter. She's impossible to miss. Bright, bleach-blonde hair is scraped back into a high ponytail, with tattoos that run down both arms. And then there's the silver lip piercing that adds to her edgy look—it's like she just woke up hot.
"Tobias Sinclair," she purrs, her smile widening as we get closer. "Haven't seen you in a while."
Of course he knows her.
She looks like she was practically custom-made for him, every single inch of her screaminghis type. Sure, Tobias doesn't have a lip piercing like hers, but he's got a nose ring, his ears are pierced, and let's not forget the nipple piercings, which I've definitely had to pretend not to notice on more than one occasion. They shouldn't make him hotter, but they do, not that the gorgeous prick needs any extra help with that.
"How are you doing, Dani? You're looking well." Tobias leans against the bar, his large, tattooed hands splayed across the counter.
His energy is magnetic, drawing attention even when he doesn't try, and the way Dani's eyes light up at the sight of him says she feels it too.
I get it. I hate that I get it, but I do.
"Thanks, handsome. You're looking good yourself," she replies, her smile widening in an almost predatory way. "And who's this?"
"Amelia," I say, forcing a polite smile even as irritation begins to creep in.
Every instinct in me is itching to walk back to the table and sit down—anything to avoid watching whatever is about to unfold between these two.
"You two together?"
Well, she clearly gives zero fucks about subtlety.
Her eyes drag up and down my body, sizing me up like I'm nothing more than competition standing in her way.
But I'm not competition—I never have been, and I never will be.
"No," I reply, maybe a bit too fast, needing the word out like I have to remind myself of what we are and what we've always been—family. "He's my brother—well, stepbrother."
"Okay, good to know." Dani's tone is smug, almost satisfied, like she's just crossed me off an invisible checklist. I can feel Tobias's eyes burning into the side of my face, gauging my reaction and probably wondering why I answered the way I did. But I can't look at him—I keep my focus firmly on Dani, who's now eye-fucking him like she's planning their sleepover tonight.
Tobias rattles off our order, and I stand beside him, watching as the inked-up blonde gets to work on the drinks.
"So, you know her well?" I ask, nudging my head toward Dani.
"Kind of."
"Kind of," I echo back. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice until it's barely above a whisper, forcing him to read the words straight from my lips. "That means you fucked her."
"No, actually. I haven't fucked her."
"You've made out, at least." The words come out accusatory, hungry for details I have no right to want, but he doesn't answer. He just keeps watching me, and even though I wish I didn't care, some part of me does.
"Are you judging me, Firefly?" His blue eyes hold mine, and right now, they're blazing with fire. There are no games, no bullshit—just this raw, stripped-down intensity that makes my ribs feel too tight for my lungs.
"Have I ever judged you?"
He leans in so close that his breath ghosts over my cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "You tell me."
For a moment, the world falls away, and it's just us—nothing else exists.
That look.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
It makes my knees weak in a way I'll never admit.
"There you go." Dani's voice shatters the moment like a brick through glass as she sets the drinks down before us, her eyes fixed on Tobias. "You want a tab?"
I can't decide if I want to thank her or throat punch her for interrupting us.
"Yes, please."
And just like that, he shifts his full attention back to her.
"Gives you a reason to come find me at the end of the night," Her smile is pure sex, and the wink she throws him might as well be a written invitation into her pants.
I feel my face twist before I can stop myself, and I look away as she saunters off to another customer.
"Change it," Tobias says, and my eyes snap to his.
"Excuse me?"
"That look on your face. Anyone would think you're jealous."
"You're shitting me."
"I'm not the one looking like I'm ready to pull her hair out," he says, his eyes serious as if he's trying to read between the lines of whatever I'm not saying.
"This look is because I'm amazed we can't go anywhere without running into your sexual history. Pennsylvania, here—it doesn't matter where. It's always the same thing."
"So you are judging me."
"No, but I hate the double standards, and I know you're not ignorant enough to miss what I'm saying." He goes still, watching me closely, waiting for me to continue. "If I'd slept with as many men as you have women, and did it so openly, I'd be called every name imaginable. You know it. And that's not even the worst of it—men would use it to decide if I'm wife material or worth keeping. But you guys? You all go around doing whatever the hell you want, and it's just… nothing. No judgment. No consequences."
I turn and start walking, needing to move, needing to breathe, but I feel him behind me like a shadow, matching me step for step.
"I don't agree with that shit, Mills. I wouldn't care how many people you've been with, and it wouldn't change how I felt about you if you were my girl."
I stop short, spinning to face him, and in his eyes, I see the exact moment he realizes what he's just said. He clears his throat, backtracking quickly, though he doesn't break eye contact.
"You know what I mean—whoever it was, it wouldn't bother me if she'd been with two or two hundred guys."
"Well, then you're the exception to the worldwide fucking rule."
"Whoa, hold up." He reaches out, his hand lightly brushing my arm and nearly dropping the three beers he's holding in the process. "How did this get so deep? All I was saying was that you had a look."
"Sorry, I'll try to keep my face in check." The words drip with venom as I force my mouth into the fakest, most ridiculous smile I can manage. "Is this more what you're looking for?"
His lips twitch like he's trying not to laugh. "It'll do. For now."