17. Tobias
Chapter 17
Tobias
I 'm confused.
Amelia confuses me.
I don't know what just happened between us at the bar. Actually, no—that's bullshit. I know exactly what happened. She was jealous. The kind of jealousy that burns hot.
Now I'm sitting across from her in the booth, my head a fucking mess. Everyone else is talking, their voices blending into some meaningless background noise, but I'm completely checked out, like I'm stuck underwater, and the only thing in focus is her.
She wasn't pissed at me. Or maybe she was. Fuck, I don't even know at this point.
There was an edge to her words—something fierce and raw. Was it anger or something deeper? I can't tell. But whatever it was, she wasn't wrong.
This world has different rules for women and different expectations—crueler ones. You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. The way society picks women apart, judges every choice, every partner, every fucking breath they take.
Hell, I'm frustrated for them.
I love women.
Which is weird since I wasn't raised by one.
My mother could've turned me into one of those guys who hates women just because she walked away and never looked back. But fuck that. I refuse to let one person's choices define who I am or shape how I see half the human race.
Instead, I see something more. I see the beauty in a woman's strength, the quiet power that lies just beneath the surface.The way they shoulder burdens most people don't even notice, keeping their heads high while the world tries its best to tear them down.
And maybe that's why I can't shake this conversation with her.Because Amelia is resilient as hell and so goddamn beautiful in every way a person can be, and the idea of the world ever being unfair to her makes me hate it a little.
"You good?" Tessa's voice pulls me out of my head, and when I turn to face her, I find she's watching me closely.
I nod, flashing my most charming smile, hoping it's convincing enough to bury whatever's happening inside. But she just rolls her eyes and chuckles, knowing me well enough to realize that I'm full of shit.
"Liar," she whispers.
"I mean, how many times in one day does my boss need to tell me all the different ways I could 'lose a couple of pounds'?" Jen rolls her eyes, exasperation written all over her face.
"Yeah, your boss is a real bitch," Tessa chimes in, taking a sip of her wine.
"Don't listen to her, Jennifer. You're perfect as you are."
Jen narrows her eyes, one brow raised in disbelief. "Did you just compliment me?"
"Harry kicked me under the table. It was forced."
"Whatever, Sinclair. You think I'm perfect." She tosses her hair, an over-the-top move that just makes me laugh.
We've got the brother-sister dynamic down: relentless teasing and pushing each other's buttons, but with a level of protection that goes bone-deep. I'd go to war for her if she needed me.
Harry leans over and kisses her forehead, pulling her close. "You are perfect, baby girl." She melts into him, and I catch Amelia smiling as she watches the two of them.
A couple of hours pass, and the conversation has been flowing nonstop around the table. The six of us haven't stopped talking, and sobriety fucked right off a while ago, leaving everyone a little louder, a little looser, and a lot more fearless about what we're willing to spill.
"What are ballet dancer guys like?" Jen slurs, her words only slightly off but enough to give her away.
"What do you mean?" Amelia laughs at the question, but I can tell Jen's losing whatever filter she had left—not that there was much there to begin with.
"You know…" Jen gestures vaguely with her hands, her expression exaggerated. "Their bodies must be so strong, but they move like… like water or something. Like, could you imagine Tobias doing it?" She jerks her head in my direction, and I respond with my middle finger
"I don't know. I could totally picture him in a pair of tights," Tessa teases, giving me a little nudge while Zane's low laugh rumbles beside her.
"What are you laughing at? Bet you'd slip into a pair if Blondie asked you nicely."
Zane settles back against the booth, all lazy confidence and a fuck-you grin. "She wouldn't ask…" He pauses, letting the moment stretch. "She prefers me naked."
The table erupts. Amelia's eyes go wide as saucers, and Jen loses it completely, her laugh muffled behind her hand like she's trying to catch it before it escapes. The sound is infectious, and even though I roll my eyes and drain my beer, I'm fighting back my own grin.
"I hate all of you, honestly."
But I don't. Not even close. I love these idiots, every single one of them.
Jen's laughter cuts through the noise, while Tessa's wearing this grin that's pure trouble, fingers skating across Zane's arm with a touch that says he's mine without speaking a single word. He leans back beside her, completely at ease, like the entire fucking world could burn down around him, and he still wouldn't move from her side. Harry's the same as ever—laid-back, soaking in the energy around him like he's made for moments like this.
And then there's Amelia. She's quieter than the rest, watching everything with those deep brown eyes of hers—the kind that makes you think of whiskey in the firelight—and there's this softness there that hits me right in the chest.
Tonight has been… nice. Better than nice. Maybe it's the alcohol warming my blood or the way the bar lights catch in her hair, but something about this moment feels important, and I've enjoyed tonight in a way I haven't before. Usually, I'm the designated third or fifth wheel, so much so that I've probably reserved a third-wheel spot at my own wedding, right next to the cake. But tonight, with Amelia here, something's different. She fits, softening the night somehow, her presence filling a space I hadn't realized was empty.
I keep stealing glances at her, watching how naturally she falls into conversation with my people. There's something satisfying about seeing her here, laughing and relaxed, surrounded by people who aren't biker fuckboys, all ego and zero brain cells, the ones who think revving an engine is a personality trait.
She deserves better than that.
She deserves…
Fuck.
I need to stop that thought right there because down that road lies everything I can't have and everything I'm not supposed to want. But watching her now, seeing how perfectly she fits into my world… I'm starting to forget all the reasons why I shouldn't want it.
"I think we're gonna take off," Harry says, looking down as Jen leans into his shoulder.
"Can we get fries on the way home?" Jen asks, tilting her head up at Harry, her big doe eyes working their magic on him.
"You planning on asking the driver to stop for you?"
"No, but you will…" She grins, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "If you love me."
"Fine, we'll get fries."
"We're gonna head out too. What are you two doing?" Tessa asks, looking between Mills and me.
"You want another drink, or are you ready to go?" I ask, turning to Amelia.
"I could have one more."
"Alright, we'll stay for a bit," I say, settling back into the booth.
"Do you two want to share an Uber?" Jen chimes in as she drapes herself over Harry's shoulder.
"Don't even think about it, sweetheart," Zane murmurs to Tessa, his voice so quiet I almost miss it.
He slides out of the booth, and I have to suppress a grin as I watch the possessive way he glances down at Tessa.
"Thanks, Jen, but we'll grab our own—opposite way, remember?" Tessa says to the giggly, tipsy mess in the corner.
"Oh yeah, forgot you don't live at home anymore." Jen chuckles, letting out a laugh that's pure, unfiltered, drunken happiness.
Lost in her own world, she gazes up at Harry as if he's the sun, and she's never felt warmer.
She leans across Harry to pull Amelia into a hug that's all drunk-girl energy—a little unsteady but completely genuine—gushing about how amazing it was to have her here tonight.
Meanwhile, Zane's arm stretches out toward Tessa, impatience written all over him as he's clearly ready to make an exit.
But Tessa turns to me first, a smile on her face and a finger aimed right at me. "Me and you, next week. Come round for dinner, yeah?" She makes it sound like a demand wrapped in an invitation, and she's already decided for me.
"Sure thing, Blondie."
With a smile that could make you forget how stubborn she can be, she slips her hand into Zane's. As he pulls her to her feet, she practically melts into him, her body molding perfectly against his as his arm slides around her waist.
Once everyone says their goodbyes, it’s just Amelia and me left in the booth. She lets out a gentle sigh, her lips parting slightly as her head tilts back, exposing that long, graceful line of her neck, bare and breathtakingly vulnerable.
She has no idea what she's doing to me—how perfect she looks just sitting there, unguarded, unknowingly feeding a hunger that's been quietly burning inside me since she asked me how I felt about her outfit back at the apartment.
Like she didn't know exactly how I'd feel about it.
Like she couldn't feel my eyes on her then, just like they're on her now.
My gaze locks onto that exposed skin, and I can't tear my eyes away. It's like she's drawn a line straight down my self-control, daring me to cross it. And right now, I have no idea which side will win—the part of me that knows better or the part that wants everything.
I watch the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes— that's all she's doing. Just breathing. And yet it's enough to send my imagination spiraling, picturing what it would feel like to lean in and close the space between us until her warmth seeps into me and her breath becomes mine. My mouth practically waters at the thought of dragging my lips along that soft golden skin, tasting her, and devouring it. I want to feel her body react under my touch, her pulse racing against my tongue as I leave marks she'll feel long after. My restraint is hanging by a thread so thin it's practically invisible, and it's a miracle I haven't snapped yet because every second that passes is a battle I'm losing. And the truth is, I'm not even sure I want to win.
There's a voice somewhere in the back of my head, weak and half-assed, mumbling something about "boundaries" and "bad decisions." But as my gaze traces the line of her collarbone, I'm two seconds away from telling that voice to shut the fuck up and never speak to me again.
I know the risks and what's waiting on the other side if I make the wrong choice here. But as I stare at her, my pulse pounding against every last shred of willpower I have left, I'm starting to think it's not a question of if I'll break—it's when.
The alcohol's hit, and now my dick's officially running shit here.
"You good over there?" I need her to sit up properly so I can pull my mind out of the gutter and stop staring at the curve of her neck like I'm about to go full-on ripper Stefan.
And yeah, I only know who that is because Tessa had me watching The Vampire Diaries as part of her "breakup recovery plan." According to her, nothing fixes a broken heart like watching two vampires fight over the same girl for what felt like a thousand seasons. I may or may not have started taking sides, and let's just say, I now understand the Damon hype.
"I'm fine," she says, flashing me a tipsy smile. "Your friends are really nice. I get why you wouldn't want to leave what you have here."
I wonder if she has any idea how deep our connection runs for me because it's not just about my friends—it's her too.
She walked back into my life like she never left, and suddenly everything made sense again. I could never go back to those empty years without her, trying to pretend it didn't matter.
"I'm glad you like them."
"I can see why you had a thing for Tessa, you know? She's awesome… but I also get why you never got the girl." She starts laughing, and I shake my head. "Because Zane? Wow. Just… wow."
"You done, Firefly?" I laugh, standing up and grabbing her empty glass. "You want another?"
She scrunches her nose—which should not be as fucking adorable as it is—and looks toward the bar. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, and God, my cock's already half-hard just watching her mouth.
"Can I have a shot instead?"
"Yeah, you want me to pick?" She nods, already pulling some cash out of her purse. "Put it away, Mills, Jesus."
I walk up to the bar, which is nearly empty now, and Dani's smile lights up her face the moment she spots me.
"Same again, handsome?" she asks, leaning in a little closer than necessary.
"No, just two tequilas, and I'll settle up." I watch as she lines up two glasses of clear liquid on a tray beside a plate with lime slices and a salt shaker.
"You heading out soon?"
"Probably after this," I say, keeping it casual.
"You wanna hang out instead?"
I know what Dani is offering, and honestly, I should say yes. I should want to say yes.
I need something to ease this tension that's been clawing at me all night, especially since acting on it with the one person I really want is out of the question.
We've kissed a couple of times, and I'd be lying if I said the attraction wasn't there once. But right now, with Amelia monopolizing every corner of my mind, Dani might as well be offering to show me her stamp collection for all the heat it's generating.
Because apparently, my dick's developed standards—very specific, very forbidden, very brunette standards.
"I can't leave Amelia to get home alone, but maybe some other time." The lie tastes stale on my tongue, but I wrap it in a polite smile anyway.
I tap my phone against the reader, hoping it doesn't come off as dismissive. But before I can tuck it away, Dani takes my phone from my hand, her fingers brushing against mine as she does.
"Take her home and then come by mine if you want. I've got some beers," she says, typing in what I assume is her number before slipping my phone back to me with the kind of look that says she's already decided where this night is going.
As my gaze drifts to the mirror behind the bar, I see Amelia's reflection, and a twinge of guilt twists in my chest. I tell myself to pull it together, to remind myself that this thing in my head is nothing but lust, but my brain and my dick are pushing two different agendas right now. One is trying to keep it casual, and the other is confusing attraction with something that feels way too close to more. And staring back at Amelia, I can't even tell which side is winning.