Chapter 2
Kade
I SPRAWL ACROSS THE couch, one leg dangling over the armrest, watching Emmett pace back and forth like a caged animal.
Five steps left, pivot, five steps right, pivot.
Repeat. His hair is still damp from the shower, and the scent of chlorine from his swimming practice clings to him despite his obvious attempts to scrub it away.
Golden Boy is nervous—actually nervous—about taking advice from me.
The thought sends a pleasant surge of power through my veins. How the mighty have fallen.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” I say, flicking through my phone without really looking at it. It’s more fun to watch my stepbrother squirm.
Emmett stops, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Are we doing this or not?”
I toss my phone aside and sit up, grinning. “Okay, Lesson One in the Kade School of Getting Laid.” I enjoy the way his jaw tightens at my phrasing. “Ground rules—today is verbal only. No touching.”
His shoulders loosen. “Thank god.”
I smirk. “Did you think I was going to make you practice kissing?”
His green eyes widen in horror. “What? No!”
“Relax, I’m fucking with you.” I stand up and circle him, taking in the standard Emmett uniform—a plain blue t-shirt that’s just tight enough to show off those swimmer shoulders, and khaki shorts that probably cost more than my entire outfit. “Though you could use the practice there too, I bet.”
“Can we get on with it?” His voice has that clipped tone he uses when he’s trying not to lose his shit. It’s the same voice he uses when I leave dishes in the sink or forget to take out the trash.
“Fine.” I stop circling. “Show me what you got. Pretend I’m Serena.” I bat my eyelashes dramatically.
Emmett shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “This is stupid.”
“Month of chores,” I remind him, crossing my arms. “So you better make the most out of it. Now, show me how you flirt, Golden Boy.”
He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders like he’s about to dive into the pool for a race. “Hello, Serena. You look very nice today.” His voice is stiff, formal—like he’s reading from a textbook on How to Human.
I snort. “Jesus Christ. That’s it? ‘You look very nice today’? With that robotic voice? Try again. With feeling this time.”
Emmett clears his throat. “I like that dress. It brings out the color of your eyes.” He delivers this line with all the passion of someone reciting a grocery list.
I burst out laughing. “Holy shit, that was even worse. No wonder girls don’t want to fuck you.”
“I said nothing about—” he sputters, his face turning an impressive shade of crimson.
I raise an eyebrow. “No? Then why would you invite Serena over to your place?”
He looks away, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth.
“That’s what I thought.” I move closer, enjoying the way he tenses up. “Look, your problem is you’re trying to be this sanitized Disney Channel version of a guy. Girls can smell the fakeness. You need to be real, show some actual interest.”
“I do show interest,” he protests.
“In what? Her academic achievements? Her volunteer work?” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure that’s all very impressive, but you need to show interest in her. The actual person. Make her feel seen.”
Emmett falls silent, and I can practically see the gears turning in his perfect little head.
“Here, let me show you.” I step back, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. “Pay attention.”
I soften my expression, letting my eyes warm as I look at him.
When I speak, my voice drops to a lower register, smooth and genuine.
“That blue brings out your eyes. Makes them even more intense than usual.” I offer a small, almost shy smile.
“Do you know how distracting it is when you’re focused on something? I can never look away.”
Emmett blinks, caught off guard by the shift in my demeanor, and he swallows hard.
“See? Simple compliment, but specific to the person. Not some generic bullshit.” I toy with my lip ring, flicking it with my tongue—a habit I’ve had since I got it pierced last year. “Your turn.”
He tries again, this time making an effort to maintain eye contact. “I like the way you explain things in class. You make complex ideas sound simple.”
“Better,” I nod. “Still too formal, but at least it’s specific. Now try something a little more…suggestive.”
“Suggestive?” He shifts his weight, a nervous habit I’ve noticed before. His fingers fidget with the hem of his t-shirt, another tell.
“Yeah, you know, something that hints you’re attracted to her physically, not just her big brain.”
Emmett’s eyes dart to the floor, the wall, anywhere but at me. “I…I’m not sure…”
I sigh. “Fine, I’ll show again.” I step closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him uncomfortable, but not enough to break my no-touching rule.
My voice drops even lower. “Every time you lean over the table, I get distracted by the way your shirt pulls across your shoulders. Makes me wonder what you’d look like without it. ”
A flush appears on Emmett’s neck and his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
“Too much?” I ask, knowing damn well it was perfect.
“Just…different,” he manages.
I grin, enjoying this more than I should. “That’s the point. You want her to know you’re attracted to her, not offering her a business partnership.”
Something shifts in me as I watch Emmett struggle to find his composure. It’s not just the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Perfect fumble—there’s something else, something that nudges at the edge of my awareness. I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
“Let me try once more. Pay attention to the progression.” I move even closer, my eyes never leaving his. “I’ve been watching the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking hard.” My voice is a near whisper now. “Makes me think about all the other things I’d like to see between those lips.”
Emmett’s eyes widen, and I swear I can hear his heart pounding from where I stand. His ears turn bright red, and he steps back, bumping into the coffee table.
“Jesus, Kade,” he mutters.
A strange sense of satisfaction washes over me. Breaking through Emmett’s carefully constructed walls feels like a victory—like I’ve found a crack in his facade. The power dynamic has shifted, and for once, I’m the one in control.
But there’s more to it than that. Something about the way his green eyes darken when he’s flustered, how his breath catches when I push too far—it triggers something unexpected in my gut. A flutter of…I don’t even have a name for it.
I mask my confusion with more babbling. “And that’s how it’s done. You gradually escalate, read their responses. If they’re into it, you keep going. If not, you back off.”
“I don’t think I can say things like that,” Emmett admits, running a hand through his hair again. It’s starting to dry now, the damp strands turning a lighter shade of blonde.
“Why not? Too scandalous for the Golden Boy?”
He glares at me. “I’m not a prude.”
“Prove it.” I cross my arms, challenging him. “Your turn. Try saying something suggestive.”
Emmett takes a deep breath, bracing himself like he’s about to jump into icy water. “I’ve noticed the way you twirl your hair when you’re reading. It’s…distracting.”
“Not terrible,” I concede. “But still too safe. Push further.”
He straightens his posture, summoning his courage. “I can’t stop thinking about how your perfume smells. It makes me want to get closer to you.”
“Better,” I nod. “But your delivery is still stiff. You sound like you’re giving a class presentation, not trying to get laid.”
Frustration flashes across his face. “I’m trying, okay?”
“Try harder. Think about what you actually want to say. What you’ve thought about but never had the guts to say.”
Something shifts in his expression—a moment of resolve. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, with an edge I’ve never heard before.
“Every time you stretch, your shirt rides up. I’ve caught glimpses of your skin, and it’s all I can think about when we’re alone.”
I blink, thrown by the change in his demeanor. “Uh, that’s…actually not bad.”
Encouraged, he continues, maintaining eye contact in a way that feels suddenly intense. “I wonder what it would feel like to trace my fingers along that strip of skin. If it’s as soft as it looks.”
A strange heat crawls up my neck. What the hell? My pulse quickens, caught off guard by my own reaction to his words. This is Emmett—uptight, judgmental, perfectionist Emmett—and yet something in the way his voice has deepened makes me forget that fact.
I clear my throat, uncomfortable with this unexpected turn. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s the idea.”
He looks surprised, perhaps even pleased, by my reaction. “Did I do it right?”
“Don’t get cocky,” I snap, tugging at my lip ring. “It was decent. For a beginner.”
But the truth is, that last attempt was more than decent. For a moment, I felt the impact of his words—felt a flutter in my stomach that has no business being there.
“I think that’s enough for today.” I step back to create more distance between us. “You’ve got the basic idea. Just…practice or whatever.”
Emmett looks confused at the sudden end of our lesson. “That’s it? We just started.”
“Yeah, well, I have plans tonight.” I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “We can pick this up another time. Try working on sounding more natural, less like you’re reading from a script.”
He nods, still studying my face. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve barely scratched the surface. And you still owe me a month of chores.” I grab my phone from the couch, needing something to focus on besides the lingering discomfort.
Emmett hesitates, like he wants to say more, then seems to think better of it. “Right. Well, I should study anyway.”
I watch him leave the room, my eyes tracking the broad line of his shoulders as he disappears down the hall. Once he’s gone, I drop back onto the couch, trying to process what just happened.
Why did his last attempt at flirting affect me like that? It wasn’t even directed at me—he was pretending I was Serena. And yet, for a split second, something shifted. Something I’m not equipped to understand or deal with.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. It’s nothing. Just the weird power dynamic throwing me off. I’m used to Emmett being the one in control, the one with all the answers. Seeing him vulnerable, seeing him listen to me for once—it’s just screwing with my head.
That has to be it. There’s no other explanation that makes sense.
I flip through my phone, trying to distract myself, but my mind keeps drifting back to the moment his voice dropped, to the unexpected flutter in my stomach when his green eyes held mine.