Uncomfortable

[four]

John Alden Miller IV is the other type of trust fund baby.

He doesn't take himself seriously, he laughs and parties hard and always has fun, and he hasn't put down any roots because he's too busy traveling the world.

I suppose he could always follow in his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather's footsteps and work for their international shipping company if and when he wants. But of course, that's boring, and his life is too exciting to bother.

He's the type I should have attracted. The type I could have caught with my sarcastic wit and lovable humor. I could've followed him to the ends of the Earth. I would have never stopped laughing or having fun. I would have never grown up.

Problem is—he doesn't do serious relationships, and he's my brother's best friend.

It's an unspoken forbidden attraction. The little crush that's always been there—because he's Alden; my kindred spirit underneath all of it.

Carter has never explicitly said anything about Alden to me in regards to us dating or hooking up. I have no idea what his feelings are on the matter. Maybe he never worried too much about it because I was with Wyatt. Honestly, I'm not sure he would even care. I don't think he has any right to control my love life, and maybe he'd be happy I was dating someone he actually liked.

But it has always felt like there was a thin veil between me and Alden; something always slightly unreachable.

Of course, I also don't know Alden's thoughts on the matter either. He's been best friends with Carter since middle school. I won't deny that I've found myself flirting with him in the past (before and during Wyatt; don't judge me). He brings something a little extra out of me, and he flirts too—but he's also a big flirt with everyone. He likes to push. I like to push back. I like to pull. He likes to pull back. If he has reservations about me being his best friend's little sister, he's never expressed them.

Maybe it's just one of those weird sibling/best friend long-understood-from-birth rules. It feels a little strange and a little wrong no matter what. Even when all signs are a go.

"Are you going to screw me to death?" he asks, eyebrows raised and a smirk across his lips that I could peel or kiss right off his smug and handsome face. It elicits both reactions.

Push.

"Every man wishes he could die with me on top of him."

Push back.

I stand and toss my murder weapons on the table. 

Alden smirks and gently rolls my suitcase to the side. "Why were you crouched behind the table?"

"Because I thought you were an assassin who was breaking in here to kidnap me."

"Fair," he says. "What're you doing here?"

"What exactly are you doing here?"

"Carter told me he wasn't coming anymore. Doesn't mean I couldn't. I shouldn't let this amazing apartment go to waste."

"Well, same then," I state emphatically.

Alden runs his tongue over his teeth, trying to suppress his smile. "Wyatt let you out of the house, let alone the country, without him?" He steps up to my pot on the stove and peers inside. His smile instantly drops when he looks back at me with narrow eyes. "Or is he here?"

"No," I huff. "He's not here."

I pick up my bowl again and make my way to the balcony. I'm suddenly annoyed—mostly at myself—because I had been that girl with Wyatt for most of my life and because I had just wished he'd been here with me a little over an hour ago.