THIRTEEN
KIERAN
The memory of kissing Amelie was the only reason I woke up with a stonking hard-on. I pushed my hand down my joggers and fisted my cock. Then the regret kicked in.
I rolled over, hastily withdrawing my fingers; the empty spot where Amelie had been made me feel slightly used, which was bloody ridiculous. I was the one who told her to sneak out of my room before the house woke up.
Because you shouldn’t have touched her in the first place.
The gremlin on my shoulder was right. Pity the little fucker hadn't spoken up last night before I poured petrol on whatever the hell I was starting to feel for Amelie Thorn. Her eyes had followed me around like a kicked puppy since Weston’s party.
She thought we had a truce. She was wrong.
I still needed to keep my distance, and now I had ballsed that up again, big time.
I dragged myself out of bed, yanked off my joggers, and snatched a towel. I needed a shower and a shave, then I'd find her and play the whole thing down.
As I walked down the landing, the main bathroom door swung open. Jessa stood there, her eyes narrowing instantly. “Problem with your ensuite?”
I tightened the knotted towel at my waist and glared at my twin. “No. I fancy the bigger bathroom today.”
Jessa didn't move or blink, which was weird.
She was gripping her toothbrush, hair yanked up in a messy bun.
Behind her, thick steam billowed out of the doorway, but her hair was bone-dry.
Someone else had just used that shower. Amelie.
Naked, wet, skin flushed from the heat seeped into my mind. I felt my cock twitch against my towel.
Down, boy.
“Why?” Jessa asked, her gaze turning suspicious. “You never use this one. Got some sins to wash away?”
I scowled at the toothbrush pointed at my chest. “No,” I said. My voice pitched a fraction too high.
Jessa’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. “Really?”
My face darkened. “Yes, really. Move.” I was losing my patience. The guys were picking me up for basketball practice soon, and I needed to get to Amelie first, water that shit down.
And then my sister took a deep breath and went for the jugular. “So would you like to explain why I saw Amelie leaving your room at the crack of dawn?”
Fuck.
Panic thudded against my ribs. Lie. Tell her she was blind. Snatch her toothbrush and stab her with it: anything to buy you time.
“What do you mean?” I choked out.
Jessa scoffed. “Please tell me you didn’t touch her.”
“It’s not really any of your business, Jessa. And anyway, we didn’t do anything. At least... not really.”
“What the hell does not really mean? Did you fuck her?”
I hated Jessa’s vulgarity. “No! We kissed, alright?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she clapped a hand over it before she recovered. “Oh my God, that’s so much worse.”
“How is that worse?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the same.” Was she really quoting Friends at me right now?
Jessa’s hand slid from her face as she stepped right into my personal space and prodded my chest. “Why can’t you just keep it in your pants?” She said the latter sentence to herself.
I swatted her hand away. “I did keep it in my pants,” I snapped, before catching myself. I glanced down the empty corridor and dropped my voice to a harsh whisper. “As I said, how is kissing Amelie worse than screwing her?”
“Because it’s more intimate and suggests that you care about her, and you don't do feelings, Kieran! You'll ruin her.”
Kissing was more intimate than sex? When did that happen?
“I’m not ruining anything—”
“Amelie’s our houseguest! She's vulnerable, and you're just using her because she's there.”
“I’m not using anyone. If you must know, she came onto me.”
“Yeah, like I believe that.”
“Believe what the fuck you like. Just stay out of my shit, Jessa!” I shoved past her into the bathroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The wood shook as her fist smacked the other side. “Leave Amelie alone! She isn’t strong enough to become one of your cast-offs!”
Every muscle in my body was wound tight. I whipped the shower tap on, but the roar of the water did nothing to drown out her parting shot.
"Cast-offs?" I muttered to the foggy mirror.
Fuck. Jessa was right. Amelie wasn’t the girl for me. Not for this version of myself, anyway—the one still carrying too much hate for the world. Letting her down gently was the right thing to do.
So, why did the thought of letting her go make me want to tear the bathroom walls down?
Then the truth hit me like a physical blow.
You aren’t falling for her. You’ve already fallen.
I was screwed.
AMELIE
Kieran stepped into the kitchen, and the air shifted.
I didn't need to look up to know something was wrong.
Here we go again. I forced my shoulders down, trying to numb myself just in case he said something hurtful.
I was supposed to be used to his whiplash moods by now.
But then Maisy looked up, her entire face igniting as if a superhero had just flown in through the window. To her, Kieran was exactly that.
To me? I wasn’t sure what he was. The answer to all my prayers or my worst nightmare?
I stared into my cereal, tracking the slow swirl of milk as I listened to Kieran interacting with his baby sister. Their easy, heavy affection left a bitter ache in my chest, a sharp reminder of Sophie.
Cameron and Vanessa had vanished toward the pool house to prep for Adam’s viewing, leaving only the quiet scratch of Maisy’s crayons as she coloured at the breakfast table at the other side of the kitchen.
Then, Kieran moved. He approached the breakfast bar, his hand shooting towards the counter to grab an apple.
The sound of my spoon clinking against the ceramic bowl felt deafening.
I had spent an hour upstairs—showering, taming my hair, applying a layer of lip gloss—desperately wishing it would erase the "charity case" stamped across my forehead. Hoping he’d see a girl who knew what it felt like to be kissed.
Because after last night, I finally did.
From the expression on his face, he clearly regretted being the one to deliver one of my firsts.
“Are you OK?” His eyes flicked over my face, brief and clinical.
He looked infuriatingly handsome—a crisp blue button-down, dark jeans, jaw freshly shaved and smelling of sharp mint.
He looked younger without his scruff. It made the memory of his rough, midnight bristles burning against my jaw feel like I imagined it. He had a gym bag at his feet.
“Yes. Good. You?” The lie tasted dry.
We both shot a guilty glance at Maisy. She was entirely lost in a world of her own, chuntering away.
“Is it me, or is it freezing in here?” He said awkwardly. What the heck?
“Yes, it is a bit on the chilly side.”
It was pathetic. Twelve hours ago, his tongue was in my mouth, and now we were talking about the heating.
At the end of the day, I had to follow his lead.
I was the socially awkward one; maybe talking about the weather was a usual everyday thing.
It was clearly safer than talking about how hard he was against me that previous night.
“So,” he started up again, his gaze drifting past my shoulder toward the bi-folding doors. He was tracking his father and my aunt. I opened my mouth to tell him about Adam—to break that weird tension with good news—but he cut me off before the first syllable could form.
“About last night,” Kieran said, rubbing the apple against his shirt before taking a huge bite. Crunch. The sound split through the quiet kitchen. I watched the sharp line of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“I know,” I blurted, the humiliation rushing up my neck in a hot, prickly wave. I had practically begged for that kiss. I needed to kill the rejection before he got there. “You don’t have to say it. It never happened.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. It happened; I’m just reminding you that it can’t go anywhere.”
His comment stabbed at my pride, sparking a sudden, unfamiliar heat in my chest. Usually, I was slow to anger. Not today. “I get that, Kieran,” I said, keeping my voice low, cutting a sharp glance toward the table. “It’s not like I’m expecting a ring. It was just a kiss.”
Kieran didn't answer. He just took another slow, heavy bite of his apple, staring down his nose at me, like I was a problem to solve.
Before he could drop another humiliating comment, I bolted off the stool and marched to the sink, the water rushing over my bowl as I scrubbed it with unnecessary force.
I needed a second to breathe. I then placed it in the drainer and turned to face him, drawing on every ounce of courage I had left.
“I just want to say thank you for last night. I don’t... do well with storms. Or unexpected noises. You were a friend, and that’s all that matters.”
A chaotic wave of expressions collided across his features—surprise, guilt, and something heavier he was trying desperately to hide.
“OK,” he said, his voice tightening. “So, you’re just letting me off the hook? That easy?”
I frowned. “What hook?”
“The one where you claim I took advantage of you.”
“What?” The word slipped out too loudly.
I glanced frantically at Maisy, but she now had headphones on, her eyes glued to a tablet.
I stepped into his space, shoving my hands deep into my jeans pockets so he wouldn't see them shaking. “I don’t know what kind of girls you’re used to, Kieran, but I don’t blame you. I was the one who sought you out.”
“Well. That’s very honest of you,” he muttered, moving away to toss the naked apple core into the bin. It landed with a dull, final thud.
A sharp ache flared behind my ribs, but I forced myself to press on.
“I am honest. Remember? 'The most honest person you've ever met.' That’s what you told me the night after the party.” That conversation had come back to me slowly over the following days. Kieran couldn’t hide from me; I knew there was a decent person in there now.