Chapter 2
TWO
brIANNA “brI” CALLOWAY
I woke up this morning breathing hard, skin damp with sweat, my core still throbbing from a dream that felt far too real.
I swear I actually came just from thinking about Blade.
The way his hands moved over me, the way his mouth claimed every inch of my skin, the way he made me fall apart again and again in the dark corners of my mind.
Heat floods my face as I drag a shaky hand through my hair, trying to get a grip.
Get it together, Bri. He’s not mine. He never will be.
And yet, here I am, sitting at my desk in the middle of the morning, staring at a half-finished logo while my body still remembers the dream like it actually happened.
God, what is wrong with me? He’s practically family now, always around since Bella and Switch got together, sitting at our family dinners, my brother-in-law’s best friend.
He shouldn’t be the first thing I think about in the morning or the last thought I cling to at night, but here I am, already aching for a man who will never be mine.
My phone lights up on my desk.
Bella: Dinner at our place tonight! Jax is one month old, and Switch insists we celebrate.
Brooke: God, please tell me he’s not cooking. My stomach still hasn't recovered from last time.
I smile, thumbs flying.
Me: I’m in. I’ll bring dessert from Sugar Rush. No baking attempts from me, I swear.
Bella: Bless you ??
Another text pops up immediately:
Bella: Blade’s coming, Bri… try not to drool this time ??
My face goes hot. Blade with his stupid smirk and infuriating habit of treating me like I’m some kid sister he has to babysit. The girls love teasing me about him, mostly because they know they’re right. I’m hopelessly, embarrassingly into the guy. But I’ll die before I admit it.
Me: Shut up. ??
Brooke: She’s bright red right now, guaranteed.
Bella: 100%.
Me: I seriously hate you both.
A few hours later, I finally finish tweaking the logo that’s been driving me insane all morning. One more adjustment to the color palette, one last pass on the shadowing, and it’s finally done. I attach the files, hit send, and slump back in my chair with a sigh.
Email sent: Final files attached. Thank you for your business.
Translation, Please never ask me to make your “fun but professional” llama mascot any brighter.
I rub my temples and glance at the clock. It’s almost two. My coffee’s gone cold, my stomach’s been growling for the last hour, and I’m one more revision away from losing my mind. Time for a break.
I grab my keys, shut down my laptop, and ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot of Sugar Rush. The second I step inside, the smell of coffee, chocolate, and warm sugar wraps around me like a cozy hug.
Ansley, my best friend since forever and the owner of Sugar Rush, stands behind the counter, brow pinched as she listens to a customer complain. The woman’s older, her lips pursed into a tight frown as she points accusingly at a half-eaten cupcake.
“—and honestly, I just feel it wasn’t moist enough,” the woman says, pronouncing moist like it’s the most offensive word in the English language.
“I’m very sorry,” Ansley says evenly, though I can see the murderous gleam in her eyes. “If you’d like, I can get you another—”
“No,” the woman interrupts. “I’ve already wasted enough of my money and time.” She turns on her heel and storms out, the bell above the door jingling in protest.
Ansley throws her head back with a groan. “I swear to God, Bri, one day I’m gonna snap and throw a whole cupcake right into someone’s face.”
I laugh so hard I almost snort. “Please text me first so I can livestream it.”
She narrows her eyes at me, grabbing a towel to wipe the counter a little too aggressively. “You’re the worst.”
I shrug. “You love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately,” she mutters, though the corner of her mouth betrays her with a smile. She tosses the towel aside and plants both hands on the counter. “What brings you here?”
“Can’t it just be that I want to see my best friend?” I smile sweetly.
She lifts one of her perfectly sculpted brows. “You? Never. Sugar is your middle name.”
I lean against the glass case, pretending to study the rows of perfect cupcakes and cookies gleaming under the lights.
“You joke, but it’s a serious condition.
I have a family dinner at Bella’s tonight.
I told them I’d bring the sweets. I would have baked something myself, but figured I’d drop by and keep you in business a little longer. ” I laugh.
Ansley arches a brow. “Right. Like there’s anyone on Earth who believes you can bake.”
“Excuse you, I baked cookies once.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly, pulling open the pastry case, “in tenth-grade Home Ec—right before you nearly burned down the school.”
“It was a minor fire,” I argue, crossing my arms and trying not to grin. “And technically, the oven was already on fire before I got there.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, laughing as she slides a tray out and begins carefully boxing up cupcakes. “Sure it was.”
The scent of chocolate and sugar fills the air as she arranges the desserts, her movements precise, practiced.
She hums under her breath, tying the white ribbon neatly around the box before giving it a tug to test the knot.
“A dozen of our best. Perfectly moist,” she adds with a wicked smirk, “and zero chance of baking disasters.”
“You’re a saint,” I tell her, handing over my card. I drum my fingers on the counter while the reader beeps. “You should come later. It’s just family and the MC guys.”
Her gaze sharpens immediately. “MC guys, huh?” She slides my card back, that sly grin spreading. “So, Blade will be there?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting.” Ansley props a hip against the counter, folding her arms. “One day you’re gonna admit you’re obsessed with him, and when you do, I’m bringing champagne.”
“I’m not obsessed,” I protest, though my voice cracks on the lie. I grab the box like it’s a shield and start edging toward the door. “Just… mildly interested.”
“Mildly,” she echoes, laughing as she calls after me. “Sure, Bri. Keep telling yourself that.”
“Bye, traitor!” I shoot over my shoulder, pushing through the door as the bell jingles above me.
Ansley’s laughter follows me out into the sunshine, sweet and smug, and I can’t even be mad. She’s right. I just wish she wasn’t. Maybe I am more than mildly interested. But Blade? He barely sees me at all.