33. Amelia
Chapter 33
Amelia
" I t must be so hard living so far away from your family."
"I always thought ballet dancers were tall and lean."
"Did you know only three percent of dancers make it professionally?"
"What are you going to do when you get a real job?"
Somebody fucking shoot me.
I'm honestly ecstatic to be away from my mom and David—growing up with them hasn't exactly been a picture-perfect upbringing. And so what if I'm short and curvy? Sure, I'm not the thinnest person in the world, but I fill out a tutu just fine. Perfectly, in fact. And yes, Camilla, I'm painfully aware that only three percent of dancers make it professionally—thanks for the reminder. But maybe I'll just work harder than anyone else and land myself in that three percent so ballet remains my real job.
Because you see, Camilla, I'd rather pour my blood, sweat, and tears into that dream than live off a rich, too-old-to- function, and probably-can't-get-an-erection husband until he finally kicks the bucket. Then what? Pack my bags, move to the Caribbean, and start sleeping with a boy toy half my age because I'll have bankrolled myself into looking at least a decade younger anyway, with enough money left over to keep him satisfied and quiet.
Camilla Bancroft is taking the brunt of my worst thoughts right now, but it's not just her. It's almost everyone here.
God, these people drive me fucking crazy.
My mom never used to be one of them, but as time goes on, she's slipping further into their world. The carefree woman she used to be—the one who'd dance barefoot in the living room and sing along to the radio even though she couldn't hold a tune—feels like a distant memory.
She wasn't always like this. When she was with my dad, it was different. He would've lived in a shoebox if it meant we were happy, and for a long time, I thought my mom felt the same way. But over the years, little cracks started to show. A few comments here and there, not that I can remember much, but a sigh when we'd drive by a bigger house, a casual remark about what she "deserved." Things I didn't think much of at the time but now feel like puzzle pieces I should've put together sooner.
"Amelia Jackson. It's been a minute." The voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn to face Bryce Matthews. His blue eyes are darker than I remember, deep and rich in shade—the complete opposite of Tobias's.
"Hey, how are you? My mom told me you'd be here tonight." He leans in, brushing a kiss against my cheek, and when he pulls back, he's standing closer than he was before.
"I'm great, thank you," he says, flashing that same boyish grin he's always had. "You look lovely, by the way. I finally get to see you in a dress."
"Thank you." I laugh, smoothing the fabric over my hip. "Are you really going to hang that over me forever?"
"Forever," he confirms, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Please. You hooked up with Michaela Prince after prom. I'd say you recovered just fine."
"That was post-rejection heartbreak, okay? Seeing you walk in with Allison instead? Absolute kick in the balls."
"Allison and I have always been inseparable. You should've known that. Now, if you'd asked us both, you might've gotten a different answer."
His eyes light up as he raises a brow. "Well, I don't totally hate that idea."
"Of course you don't." I roll my eyes with a grin.
He laughs, his gaze dropping as his thumb drags along the rim of his glass.
"So how's it going in Chicago?"
"Really great, thank you. I made the right choice by moving." I glance at him, taking him in fully for the first time tonight.
He's changed over the last couple of years. We didn't really keep in touch after high school, but the boy I remember has clearly grown up. His sandy-brown hair is slicked back, and a bit of facial hair outlines his strong jaw. He's always been handsome, but now it's in a more mature, refined way.
Back then, I just wasn't into him like that. And honestly, the reason for that is becoming more obvious as the days go on.
"What about you? Mom mentioned you're working for David now."
"My dad's one of his clients, and he said David's company is the one I should aim for."
"Well, my mom said he was impressed with you."
He grins, a flash of teeth that's both charming and a little cocky. "I hardly gave him a chance to say no. You know how direct I am."
"Oh, I remember. 'Amelia, I'm taking you to prom, and I can't wait to see you in a dress.'"
Bryce groans, running a hand down his face, but he's laughing. "God, that's embarrassing now."
"Come on," I say with an easy laugh, motioning toward the bar. "Let's get a drink. And maybe, if I get drunk enough, I'll out-humiliate you, and that prom offer will slip into a black hole of forgotten memories."Bryce steps aside, gesturing for me to go ahead, but as I turn, I'm met with Tobias's gaze. He's sitting on a barstool, his legs splayed out in that infuriatingly casual way that screams confidence. One hand hangs lazily at his side, gripping his drink, while the other rests on his knee, fingers tapping in an almost bored rhythm. But his eyes are locked on me with a heat that makes my stomach flip, and I swear, I almost melt right there.
Tobias looks… lethal, not in the obvious way—not in the way that makes you run. No, Tobias is dangerous like midnight promises and back-alley kisses—the kind of danger that whispers, "Come closer," even when your brain is screaming to back away.
Each step I take toward him feels heavier, like the universe is conspiring to drag me into whatever chaos he's offering.
My breath caught in my throat when Tobias stepped into my room tonight. One look at him, and I was done for because Tobias looks fucking phenomenal in a suit. But all I really wanted to do was strip him out of it. I wanted to trace every line of ink on his body with my tongue, feel the heat of his skin, and press my lips against every single muscle until he was begging.
But it wasn't just that. It was the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in his world that mattered. I've never been looked at like that before, so wanted and so utterly beautiful.
When I finally reach him, I slide into the space beside him, my hand brushing the edge of the bar for balance. I glance down at him, waiting for him to meet my eyes, but he doesn't. Not right away. Instead, his attention is on Bryce, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk that says, Yeah, I see you—but don't get too comfortable.
"Tobias," I say softly, breaking the silence.
He finally meets my gaze, but his eyes aren’t just looking—they’re claiming me. It’s possession, and I feel it everywhere. Down to my bones, between my legs, and in every breath I can’t quite catch.
This side of Tobias is new to me. Jealousy, yes, but more than that—territorial, and he's not even trying to hide it.
"What are you having?" Bryce asks, his focus entirely on me, which is impressive, considering Tobias is sitting right there, radiating an energy that's impossible to miss.Somehow, Bryce doesn't even notice him, completely oblivious to the tension that's thick enough to choke on.
"I'm sticking with champagne tonight," I respond, reaching for a glass. "Otherwise, I'll do something that'll embarrass my mom, and you know how Kayla gets."
Tobias lets out a low snicker, muffled by his drink, and my eyes flick to him. He's laughing into his glass, suggesting he knows exactly how I'd embarrass her—and he'd probably encourage it.
Clearing my throat, I turn back to Bryce. "You've never met my stepbrother, have you?"
Bryce blinks, finally noticing Tobias, and I can practically see the moment he registers him. His posture stiffens slightly, but he recovers quickly, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "No, I haven't had the pleasure. It's nice to meet you."
Tobias takes his time, setting down his drink before gripping Bryce's hand in a firm shake. "Likewise."
"I live with Tobias back in Chicago. I'm sure my mom filled you in."
"She did," Bryce says with a chuckle.
"Shocker," I reply, rolling my eyes. "That woman has to tell everyone my business."
"So how do you two know each other?" Tobias asks, his tone calm, casual even, but I know better. He's standing now, his broad frame towering slightly over Bryce.
"We were friends in high school, but she broke my heart," Bryce says with a teasing grin, but the words land like a grenade in the space between us.
"Okay, stop. Now I do feel bad." I force out a laugh.
"I'll leave you to it. Have a good night," Tobias replies, his voice smooth and controlled, but the underlying edge is impossible to miss.
I don't even get a chance to process what's happening before Tobias turns on his heel and strides away. I watch as he steps through the open patio doors, running a hand through his hair before pulling a cigarette from his back pocket, the flick of his lighter briefly illuminating his face before he's swallowed by the night.
"Well," Bryce says, breaking the silence with a low laugh, "he's kind of intense, huh?"
"Honestly, he's not usually like that. I have no idea what that was."
"That was someone who didn't appreciate being called your stepbrother." He laughs, and I stare at him, hoping he's fucking with me and didn't pick up on Tobias's energy. "Hey, I could be wrong, but that's the impression I got."
I brush it off. I have to. If my mom and David knew that Tobias and I were walking a dangerously thin line, they'd move heaven and earth to put as much distance between us as possible. And honestly, I can't even blame them. What we're toying with is wrong on so many levels, but it doesn't make it any less real.
"Trust me," I say with a dry laugh, masking my thoughts. "You'll see Tobias with an older woman by the end of the night. He likes to give them a little taste of their youth again."
It's not a lie. I've seen it before—Tobias leaning against some bar, murmuring something in a woman's ear that makes her throw her head back and laugh like she's twenty-five again.
But now, the idea of it doesn't just sting—it makes my stomach churn.
And if I see him with another woman tonight, I know I'll break.