NINETEEN
Milan
PRESENT
I was only eight years old when I learned how fucked up my life is.
How fucked up I am.
And maybe it’s the frustration inside me that forces me to find someone to blame for everything that has happened. Someone I can blame to unburden my soul, even though deep down I know that I’m the problem.
I’ve been leaning against the doorframe of our private library for a while now, wearing nothing but my swim shorts with a towel draped around my neck.
She stares at the family photo above the fireplace.
My eyes memorize the way the black T-shirt clings to her body. Her face is free of any make-up, her lips naturally pink, her green eyes slightly dilated and the wet strands of her dark ponytail hanging over her shoulders.
She is beautiful .
I could bring her to her knees, bend her over the desk or just take her here and now. And maybe that’s exactly what I should do. But the way she stares in horror at the photo of my family replaces all my desire for her with years of pent-up loathing.
I clear my throat. “You shouldn’t snoop in other people’s houses.”
She tilts her head toward me before looking forward again. I walk over and stand beside her.
“Who’s that?” Her voice trembles as she nods toward the picture of my family.
To my brother.
I let my gaze slide there for a few seconds before I look back at her. “My brother.”
Her lower lip quivers. “Your brother?”
“My brother,” I repeat. “ Kilian .”
Her lips part as she fixes me with wide eyes. Hearing my brother’s name seems to have momentarily robbed her of speech.
The corners of my mouth twitch, but I force myself to suppress it. I know exactly what’s going through her mind.
They’re siblings?
He’s Milan’s brother?
He lied to me?
Well, I knew she knows my brother.
I’ve known for a while now.
It was a crisp spring day three years ago when I followed Kilian one afternoon, only to see him meeting a girl much younger than him. And what a surprise it was when I later recognized that same girl at high school.
Aliya Sierra.
My brother has never been someone who would hit on younger girls, but yet he kept seeing her. Secretly.
And although they saw each other often, I realized from the moment she scratched my car that she has no idea whose brother I actually am. Because if she knew, she wouldn’t have messed with me, would she?
All my suspicions are confirmed, because the look on her face and the trembling in her voice prove that Kilian has concealed his true identity from her.
She lowers her phone with the flashlight on. “Kilian?”
“His name is Kilian.”
Aliya averts her eyes from me, but I can’t help but notice that her normally cold expression now has a hint of fragility.
And maybe I should feel bad now, but damn, it feels good.
She always keeps a straight face. Back when she scratched my car and I threatened her, the tremors of her body betrayed her, but her eyes remained bold.
When we left her stranded in the middle of the night on a road in Detroit, she panicked but masked it with rage.
Even though she’s been bullied by her classmates at SVH ever since the picture of us surfaced online, she now stands here.
And when Damian humiliated her in front of everyone by pushing her into the water, she didn’t lower her head or show any sign of vulnerability.
Now that I’ve revealed to her that he’s my brother, her impenetrable facade is crumbling.
But I haven’t been the one to coax any weakness from her. It’s Kilian who has kept his name hidden from her.
I could give her hell, and she wouldn’t let her guard down. But the fact that my brother can tear off her mask with just a small lie is really getting on my nerves.
“Where is he?” Aliya presses the book in her hand deeper against her chest – as if it were something precious that she must protect at all costs.
“California.”
“California? I see.”
“When you’re done asking me about my family, can you tell me what the hell you’re doing here?”
She winces slightly, as if only now realizing I’ve caught her snooping. “The downstairs bathroom was occupied, so I came upstairs. This door was open, and I just wanted to look at the books.”
She nibbles innocently on her lower lip, which drives me crazy.
“So you just wanted to look at the books?” I cross my arms in front of my chest to draw her attention to my exposed torso.
She’s already been my downfall, like a sweet little curse , and the way she’s looking at me only makes it worse.
But I don’t like that she’s wearing Shin’s shirt.
On the contrary, it drives me insane. This sudden bond between them, that he even gives her his T-shirt.
I shouldn’t be angry.
When Damian pushed her into the water and she presented the outline of her breasts to the whole SVH with a soaked T-shirt, I really wanted to murder. Damian and everyone who looked at her so lustfully.
Shin didn’t do anything wrong by giving her something else to wear. As indifferent as she is, she would have probably returned to the garden just as drenched. And then I might actually become a murderer tonight.
But where the hell did Shin’s knight-in-shining-armor shit come from all of a sudden?
“Well then, I’m going back downstairs.” Aliya takes her eyes off me and turns away to reach for her bag.
With a deft grip, I grab her by the wrist and pull her back. My sudden action causes her to drop the book from her hand. I push her further back so that she is caught between me and the desk.
And oh yeah, I really am fucked up.
On the inside as well as the outside. Fucked up.
Lost in the gap between disgust and desire.
Because I have to admit something to myself. As much as I may hate her, I’ll probably never get used to seeing her with someone else.
It’s always been like that. Whether it’s my brother, Shin or another guy.
I want to have her all to myself.
I want to be the only one who plays with her and evokes all these feelings in her.
She’s mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
“What are you doing?” She looks at me angrily and tries to push me away.
And although I could lose myself in the green of her eyes, they also destroy me. They remind me of things I’d rather forget.
But sometimes pain feels good.
Especially when she’s the cause of my suffering.