Chapter 5
Kent
Three days had passed since I’d agreed to play by James’s rules. And already I was regretting it.
Every morning, he slept in until at least nine, meaning I had to sit on the couch and scroll on my phone for nearly two hours until he woke up.
After that it was a lazy, long-winded shower and some fifteen-minute-long skincare routine that made absolutely zero sense to me.
Then, for some un-fucking-believable reason, he did yoga.
That was the part of the morning I hated the most. The instructor’s voice on the video was too soft, too lilting, and too… something. It was pretentious and stupid and full of bullshit like “Breathe out to let go of the energy you’re holding today”. What the fuck?
Not that it stopped me from stealing glances his way.
James, to my surprise, was incredibly flexible.
He could fold his chest flat against his thighs, he could do a handstand, and a full side-split that made my balls ache just watching him.
It was actually pretty impressive, not that I’d tell him that.
I’d already had my moment of weakness admitting the problems between me and Brittany.
I wasn’t about to start complimenting him too.
After that it was some weird green smoothie for breakfast. No bacon, no eggs, and no potatoes.
I declined his attempts to get me to drink the smoothies.
I wasn’t looking to spend the next two hours on the toilet putting that garbage in my body.
I needed meat and grease. But he said that was only for weekends. What a weirdo.
So yeah, everything the guy did was annoying.
I could understand why he seemed to be perpetually single, not that I’d ever bothered to call and ask how his life was going.
And now that I was living with him, I was too afraid to ask.
I didn’t want to hear about that gay shit, anyway.
And just the thought of him being with some guy…
it made my stomach turn in a strange way.
There was disgust, yes, but also something else. Something more… intense.
I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on my phone as James finished his smoothie and washed his dishes immediately. I found myself watching the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until he’d be done and I could have some peace.
When he finally finished, he stepped out into the living room and plopped down on the edge of his bed. His shirt clung to his back, still damp with sweat, and I forced myself to look away.
“You heading out today?” he asked, pulling out his phone to check his messages.
“Yeah. Got a site inspection at eleven.” I stood from the couch, stretching. My back was killing me from sleeping on that piece of shit every night. “Should be back around six.”
“Okay.” He tapped away at the screen. “Can you pick up some groceries on your way back? We’re running low on a few things.”
There it was. The casual request that felt more like a demand. Like I was his errand boy.
“What do you need?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Just text me when you’re done with work and I’ll send you a list.”
“Fine.” I grabbed my keys from the counter. “Where are you going today?”
The question came out before I could stop it, and James looked up from his phone, his eyebrows raised slightly.
“What?”
“I’m just asking where you’re going.” I shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. “House rules, right? We’re supposed to communicate. I told you where I was going today, now it’s your turn.”
He studied me for a long moment, and I could see him trying to figure out if I was being serious or if this was some kind of trap.
“I have a meeting with a potential client at two at the coffee shop down the street,” he said slowly. “Then I’ll probably work from there for a few hours.”
“The coffee shop.” I nodded. “Right.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” The words came out too fast, too defensive. “I’m just making conversation.”
“Since when do you make conversation?”
He had a point. I didn’t do small talk, especially not with James. But standing here in his apartment, watching him in his sweat-dampened clothes, I felt an inexplicable need to know where he’d be. Who he’d be with. And for what reason.
“Since I’m living here,” I said. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” He turned back to his phone, tapping away.
I left before he could ask any more questions, taking the stairs two at a time. The morning air was crisp, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear my head of whatever the hell that was.
It didn’t mean anything. I was just being considerate, following the house rules we’d established. That was all.
But as I drove to the work site, I couldn’t shake the image of James folding himself in half, his body bending in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Or the way his shirt had clung to his skin. Or the question that kept circling in my mind like a vulture.
Who the hell was he meeting at the coffee shop? His other clients were all virtual, so what made this one so special?
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles going white.
It was none of my business. James could meet whoever he wanted, wherever he wanted. I didn’t give a shit.
Except I did, apparently. Because the thought of him sitting across from some client, some gay guy, probably, knowing the neighborhood he lived in, made something twist in my gut that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.
Which was insane. I wasn’t jealous of James. I wasn’t jealous of who he spent time with or who he talked to or who he…
I cranked up the radio, drowning out my own thoughts with the aggressive thump of bass. This was what happened when you didn’t have enough going on in your own life. You started obsessing over other people’s business. Once I got my own place, got back to normal, this weird fixation would disappear.
But I couldn’t help wondering… Why hadn’t I ever been like this with Brittany?
The work site was chaos when I arrived. The electrical contractor had fucked up the wiring in the east wing, and the project manager was having a meltdown about timelines and budgets. I threw myself into the problem, grateful for the distraction.
By the time lunch rolled around, I’d almost forgotten about James and his mysterious coffee shop meeting.
Almost.
I sat in my truck, unwrapping a sandwich from the deli down the street, and found myself pulling out my phone. I stared at James’s contact for a long moment before opening our text thread.
The last message was from this morning. A simple “Have a good day” that I hadn’t responded to. It was a nicety anyway. It’s not like he meant it.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I could ask him how the meeting went. That would be normal, right? Just checking in. Being considerate.
But I’d look like a psycho if I texted him in the middle of his meeting. Like I was keeping tabs on him.
I set the phone down and took a bite of my sandwich. It tasted like cardboard.
The afternoon dragged. Every time I checked my phone, I told myself I was looking at the time or checking for work emails. But really, I was waiting to see if James would text me. Update me. Tell me something about his day.
He didn’t. Why would he?
By five-thirty, I was packing up my tools and heading to the grocery store like he’d asked. My phone finally buzzed as I pulled into the parking lot.
James: Here’s the list. Thanks for picking this up.
A screenshot followed. Organic vegetables. Almond milk. More of that fancy coffee. Protein powder. Greek yogurt. And at the bottom, almost like an afterthought he’d added “And whatever you want for yourself.”
I stared at that last line longer than I should have. It was a simple courtesy, but something about it made my chest feel tight.
I grabbed a cart and started working through the list, tossing in my own stuff as I went.
Bacon. Real milk. Eggs. A case of beer almost went in, but I put it back, then grabbed a case of soda instead.
They were the kinds of things that would probably make James wrinkle his nose but were necessary for my survival.
As I turned down the produce aisle, I found myself actually looking at the organic options he’d requested. Checking to make sure I got the right brand of almond milk. Grabbing the specific type of Greek yogurt he preferred.
When the hell had I started caring about getting his groceries right?
I loaded everything into the truck and sat there for a moment, engine idling, before pulling out my phone again.
Me: Got the groceries. Heading back now. How did the meeting go?
I sent it before I could overthink it. The response came almost immediately.
James: Good! Landed the client. Thanks for asking!
There was a smiley face emoji at the end. James used emojis. Of course he did.
Me: Nice. See you soon.
I put the truck in gear and headed back toward Capitol Hill, that same restless feeling churning in my gut. I told myself it was just hunger. Or stress about finding a new place. Or lingering frustration with Brittany.
It wasn’t about the fact that James had landed a new client and I wanted to know more. Or the fact that I wanted to know who the client was, what the project was, or if James had smiled at them the way he sometimes smiled when he was genuinely excited about something.
Fuck. I needed to get laid. That was the problem. I’d been living like a monk for the past few days, and it was messing with my head.
When I got back to the apartment, James was at his desk, typing away at his laptop. He glanced up when I came in, juggling grocery bags.
“Need help?” he asked, already standing.
“I got it.”
But he came over anyway, taking a few bags from my arms. Our fingers brushed, and I jerked back like I’d been burned.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes.
We unpacked in silence, moving around each other in the tiny kitchen. I was hyperaware of every time our bodies got close, every accidental touch. It was suffocating.
“So, the client,” I said, desperate to fill the silence. “What’s the project?”
James glanced at me, surprised. “It’s a rebrand for a small tech startup. Nothing huge, but it’ll pay well.”
“That’s good.” I shoved the almond milk into the fridge. “You meet them at that coffee shop?”
“Yeah.” He was organizing the vegetables in the crisper, his back to me. “Why?”
“Just curious.” I kept my voice casual. “What are they like?”
“They?” James turned around, and there was something knowing in his expression that made my skin prickle. “It’s a woman, actually. Mid-thirties. Married with two kids.”
Relief flooded through me, sharp and immediate, and I hated myself for it.
“Cool,” I said, because what else was there to say?
James watched me for another moment before turning back to the groceries. “You want to order dinner tonight? My treat, since you picked up the groceries.”
“Yeah. Sure.” I grabbed a soda from the case I’d bought and cracked it open. “Whatever you want.”
“Thai food okay?”
“Fine by me.”
He pulled out his phone to order, and I retreated to the couch, taking a long pull from my soda. The apartment felt smaller tonight, the walls pressing in. Or maybe it was just James’s presence, taking up more space than his physical body should.
I watched him as he scrolled through the menu, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. He’d changed since I’d left this morning. He had on a different shirt, and his hair was still damp from what must have been another shower. He looked good. Cute, actually.
The thought crashed into me before I could stop it, and I took another drink, trying to drown it.
First off, I wasn’t into guys. And secondly, he was my stepbrother.
Whatever strange thoughts I was having must’ve been some symptom of stress or burnout or some other shrink bullshit.
My head just wasn’t working right because my life had been turned upside down. That was all.
And this was temporary anyway. All of it. In a few weeks, I’d be gone, back to my own life, and James would just be a memory again. A blip. Nothing more.
But as he settled onto the opposite end of the couch, close enough that I could smell his shampoo, I wasn’t sure I believed it.