21. Tobias
Chapter 21
Tobias
I 've barely seen Amelia over the last few days. She's been working late or spending time with her new friends, and, to be honest, I've been doing my fair share of avoiding her. Giving her space feels like the only way forward, especially since I'm the one who threw us into this awkward situation. I know it's on me, so the least I can do is step back while things settle down.
Amelia, of course, is handling it exactly as I expected her to—as if nothing had happened, and whatever sparked between us that night was simply the result of too much tequila and our mutual misdirected, pent-up frustration.
The thing about Mills and me is that we're too familiar, too in sync, to actually hide anything from each other. But if she wants to pretend, then I guess that's what we’re doing. I'll play this game her way and keep up the act if it means she's okay.
I pull up to Zane and Tessa's place, headlights casting shadows across the driveway as I slide in next to Tessa's car. I've been here for dinner more times than I can count, and tonight, Tessa's made pasta, and there's no way I'm passing on a homemade meal.
As I step out of the car, the cool evening air gently brushes against my skin, and I swear I can already smell the faint hint of garlic and basil drifting out to greet me.
The door opens, and there she is—the radiant little blonde with a smile that brightens up the whole space as she holds the door open for me.
"Hey, Blondie." I duck inside, dropping a quick kiss on her head just as Zane comes strolling down the stairs. "Thought you said he was out tonight," I tease, raising an eyebrow at her. "You promised I'd get to see your bedroom again."
She swats my shoulder with a roll of her eyes. "It's like you want to be punched."
"Don't threaten me with a good time," I shoot back, but Zane just laughs, clapping a friendly hand on my shoulder as he walks past us and heads toward the kitchen.
I follow, still grinning, watching them both settle into that effortless rhythm most people spend their entire lives searching for and never find. And here I am, right in the middle of it, soaking up what they share.
"Beer?" Zane offers as he reaches into the fridge, but he's already pulling two bottles out before I can answer and has a wine glass ready for Tessa.
"Yeah, please." He hands me a bottle and settles beside her, leaning back against the counter as she moves around the stove.
"You good?" Tessa asks as she stirs the food simmering in the pan. I nod, taking a slow sip of my beer. "It was nice to see you the other night with Amelia."
"She had a good time," I say, leaning back with a grin. "Started crushing on you, though, Professor. But don't worry—I let her down easy and told her you only screw your students. She's over it now."
Tessa bursts into laughter, and Zane just shakes his head, clearly unimpressed but amused all the same. We've hit this sweet spot, the three of us, where he knows exactly when I'm joking around and doesn't get defensive—he just lets it roll off him.
It's a good place, a weirdly comfortable one.
"I'm playing," I add. "She just got hit with the Calloway effect for a few seconds."
Tessa raises an eyebrow and matches my smirk with one of her own. "Coming from the college playboy? You've been surrounded by women since the day we met."
"Speaking of," I say, leaning back against the counter, letting the edge of the beer bottle dangle between my fingers, "you don't have any single friends lying around, do you?"
"You know I don't socialize outside our circle. So I guess it's just you."
"Works for me. I'm pretty into myself, anyway." Tessa laughs, bumping me with her hip as she heads back to the stove, grabs the plates, and starts to dish out the food.
I take a couple of plates and follow her into the dining room. Once we settle into our seats, I dive into the food like it's the first real meal I've had in days.
"This is so good, Blondie," I say between mouthfuls. "Think I'm just going to start showing up more often."
"You're always welcome. You can bring Amelia too if she feels like it."
"Yeah, I'll ask when I see her."
Zane raises an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Don't you two live together?"
"We haven't crossed paths in the last few days."
"What did you do?" Tessa's eyes drill into me from across the table.
"Nothing. We've both been busy."
Lie .
I don't usually bullshit Tessa. Lying is not my thing—not with anyone, but definitely not with her. Yet here I am, sitting across from her and Zane, skirting around a conversation I don't even know how to start.
She tilts her head, not buying it for a second. "You pissed her off, didn't you?"
I let out a sigh, tipping my drink back, hoping the beer might ease the tension tightening in my throat. But Tessa doesn't budge; she just keeps looking at me, waiting, her silence doing all the talking.
I drop my gaze, feeling her persistence dig under my skin. Finally, she speaks up, softer this time.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but can we help?"
"Harry thinks Zane can."
Zane straightens, his brow furrowing, while Tessa glances between us. For a second, I consider easing into this conversation, but instead, I let the words fall bluntly.
"How did you ignore wanting to sleep with your student, knowing your life would turn into a complete mess if anyone ever found out?"
Zane's eyes widen and Tessa's jaw drops, the shock on their faces unmistakable as the pieces click into place.
"You… like Amelia?" She whispers as if we're not the only three people in the house.
"No, it's not like that," I say, my voice rougher than I intended. "I just—fuck—I looked at her once, the way I look at other women, and now I can't stop. It's in my head all the time, and I've been acting crazy around her."
Zane lets out a low laugh, shaking his head as he leans forward, resting his hands on the table."Yeah, you're fucked, my friend."
"That's it? That's all you've got? I'm just… fucked?"
"Welcome to hell," he says dryly, but there's understanding in his eyes. "If your body's reacting to her, it doesn't matter how much your brain tries to shut it down. Doesn't work that way."
"Have you two ever…" Tessa asks, her voice trailing off, leaving the question hanging in the air like a loaded gun.
"No. Never."
Tessa tilts her head, still looking at me. "Do you think she feels the same?"
I blow out a breath, dragging my fingers through my hair. "Pretty sure she feels something, but I pulled some stupid shit the night we got back from the bar, and now she's acting like it never happened. Just like I knew she would."
Zane raises an eyebrow, his tone cautious but curious. "What happened?"
"I yelled at her. Told her to go to bed."
Tessa's face twists into that look she gives when she's about to go off. "What the hell? Why did you yell at her?"
"In my defense, I apologized immediately. But if I'd stayed around her a second longer, I would've either kissed her or tried to get her out of those ass-hugging jeans she had on."
Zane leans back, studying me. "And the next day? Was it just an alcohol thing?"
I shake my head, the truth slipping out before I can stop myself. "I saw her the next morning, and I wanted inside her."
"Look, the difference is, you and Amelia already had boundaries in place. You had this line drawn before you felt whatever it is you're feeling now. Tessa and me? We crossed that line way before we even realized we weren't supposed to, and by the time it got complicated, the line was already gone. It didn't even exist anymore. So what set this off?"
"I don't even know, man. I can't pinpoint a specific moment, but something's changed between us."
"Is it just physical?" Tessa cuts in.
"Yeah, of course," I answer too quickly, feeling the lie taste bitter on my tongue.
How the hell could it ever be just physical with Mills?
"Are you sure about that? Because I remember you once told me that if you felt something—an attraction with someone you were already close to—you'd want to explore it. And you and Amelia? You two have been in each other's lives for years. Feelings like this don't just come out of nowhere."
"That was different," I say, shrugging as I lean back in my chair. "No one would've batted an eyelid if something happened between me and you… except you," I add, pointing a finger in Zane's direction, "and Erik, considering the shit he gave me for even thinking about making a move on you."
Tessa's lips twitch into a faint smile, clearly amused by the memory. "Jen was all for it, though."
"Yeah, she probably figured it'd be easier to slip poison in my coffee during morning-after breakfast."
"You can't control who you fall for, Tobias," Zane interrupts, guiding us back to the reality of the situation.
"Okay, I'm not in love with her or anything like that, but for my own sanity, I need to figure out how the hell to ignore this attraction when I'm around her nearly every day."
"I've got two options for you," Zane says, leaning forward on the table and crossing his arms. "And you can go with whichever one makes sense—or maybe just the one that's easier to live with." I nod, bracing myself. "You try to block out whatever it is about Amelia that's gotten under your skin and buried itself deeper the more time you spend together. You keep her at a distance, never letting yourself get too close. Be careful with every word, every look, and every second of eye contact. And yeah, it might drive you out of your fucking mind, but maybe the attraction will burn itself out. You're a good-looking guy, and there are plenty of women who'd be more than happy to help get Amelia out of your system. If you're lucky, you go back to seeing her as she was before any of this started—roommate, stepsister… just a friend."
The safe option.
"Or?" I ask, half dreading the answer.
"Or you say fuck it and go with your feelings. Because trying to shut them out will mess with your head until you're obsessing over the one thing you can't have… and want more than anything else."
"You know what? You've just made this all so much worse for me. So thanks for nothing, assholes." I shake my head, letting out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Mind if I give you some advice from my perspective?" Tessa's voice is soft, but there's a firm edge to it, something that even makes Zane pause as she reaches over and slips her hand into his.
"You may as well, considering I'm all shades of messed up about it."
"Whatever happens, be careful with her feelings. I can only imagine the last thing she'd ever want is to lose you. So if you go there, take care of her heart like it's beating in your own chest."
I’d never hurt Amelia. She’s someone I’d protect at all costs, no matter what it took or who I had to go through.
"But maybe she'll be smart enough to see past that pretty face of yours."
"You forgot about my abs and big cock."
"I have no experience with your cock."
"Yet."
Zane chuckles and presses his lips against her hair. "God, I'm going to make you pay for his big mouth later," he murmurs, the amusement barely hidden in his voice.
They both laugh, and I feel a tinge of envy run through me. I don't even know if I want a relationship. But seeing how they just fit—it's hard not to think I might want something like that for myself.
"I'd say I'm sorry, Blondie, but something tells me you'll be thanking me for it tomorrow."
A couple of hours later, I step back into my apartment, still feeling the weight of that conversation with Zane and Tessa hanging over me. The drive home had given me plenty of time to overanalyze everything they said and work up a half-assed plan. I decided—partially convinced and somewhat desperate—that the first part of Zane's advice was the only way through this mess.
Ignore these feelings.
Kill them dead and salt the earth behind them.
Honestly, I'd rather watch whatever this is between us shrivel up and die than risk ruining what we already have. She means too much to me.
But what if I'm already making her uncomfortable? Maybe that's why she's been distant these last few days, why it feels like she's been avoiding me.
That thought twisted in my mind the whole drive home, churning alongside the realization that maybe she needed space from me. Maybe she's silently waiting for me to stop whatever I've started here.
Fuck it—and not Zane's version of "fuck it," but mine.
Right now, my version of "fuck it" means shoving aside every dark thought of wanting her beneath my hands, tasting her, and finding out how she'd feel pressed up against me—but I already know she'd fit perfectly.
The thought of her all soft and pliant in my grip, discovering every little thing that makes her gasp, makes her cry out. It's been haunting me.
But it ends here.
I know she's off work tonight, and I need to see her. I need to set this right and clear the air.
I walk down the hall toward her bedroom, each step only tightening the knot of tension in my chest. The closer I get, the stronger it pulls—my pulse quickening and my mind racing with everything I want to say to make things right. When I finally raise my hand to knock, a soft, muffled sound filters through the door—a sound that brings me to a dead stop.
It's faint, barely there, but there's no mistaking it.
That was a fucking moan.
For a split second, I try to convince myself I imagined it and blame it on the thoughts I've been drowning in whenever she's been near me lately. But then I hear it again—soft, breathy, and unmistakably real.
Every low, throaty moan that slips through the door hits me like a punch, the realization sinking in fast and hard.
There's someone in there with her.
Heat flares through me, followed by a rush of anger that cuts bone-deep. My jaw tenses, my muscles are coiled tight, and my fists ball like I'm about to throw hands at whoever's behind that door.
Something primal flips inside me at the thought of her with someone else, of her lips parting and her body arching for anyone but me—it claws at me, scraping every nerve raw. And I know I shouldn't be feeling any of this—hell, I've spent the past hour trying to talk myself down, convincing myself it's wrong. But here I am, half a second away from going full caveman, hauling her out of there, and throwing her into my bed where she belongs.
I've just spent the last few hours wrestling with the mess that is my Amelia Jackson obsession, picking apart every thought and convincing myself that I need to back off. But now, here I am, standing outside her bedroom door, knowing full well she probably thought I'd be out for a while.
When I hear the faint buzzing sound, relief hits, quickly followed by pure hunger, and all I want to do is kick open that door, ditch the vibrator, and show her what it really means to come undone—because I know, without a doubt, I'd make her come harder than any fucking toy ever could.
Jesus Christ, if there's a medal for restraint, I've earned it tonight.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to step back to distance myself from the door. But I can still hear her.
I want to watch her. The way her fingers move. How her body arches. I want to hear every little sound she makes when she's desperate and so fucking close she can barely breathe. I want to spread her open, taste her, and bury my face between her legs. God, I'm dying to lick her, desperate to drag my tongue slowly over her until she's shaking so hard she can't think straight. I want her begging—pleading for me to push her over the edge, to make her come, and give her the release she's chasing.
I need to get the hell out of here.
I turn to walk away, the only rational option, but then I hear it—clear and unmistakable, one word that stops me in my tracks.
"Tobias."