Page 80 of Loverboy

“You know how I get when I drink.”

Of course I fucking did.

He had no self-control. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a couple of drinks and gotten stupid, either. I remembered the last time we partied together, and he was drunk, throwing himself at me and telling me how much he loved me with no regard for Sofia being in the room.

“I got all emotional again about almost losing you.” He flinched. “Started saying shit I shouldn’t.”

At first, I was confused. I didn’t understand what it had to do with fucking my brother. But as I pictured Oliver drunk and spilling his guts to Jasper about his feelings for me, the image became deeply unsettling.

If I weren’t the brand of fucked up that tried to kill themselves just to keep their girlfriend from abandoning them, maybe I wouldn’t have seen it. I wouldn’t have noticed the way Jasper had kept me from confronting Sofia when she came to collect her things, or how he’d pulled me away from Nina when I was trying to flirt with her at my party.

Jasper hadn’t wanted Oliver.

He’d wanted to keep me to himself.

I looked back at the balcony one more time. Jasper was still outside, his back to the railing, watching us. His gaze slid to Oliver, and then back to me, a silent question in its depths.

What was I going to do?

“Go home, Oliver.” I turned back to face him fully.

“Milo, please.” His voice cracked.

I shook my head, taking a half-step back toward the balcony.

“It won’t happen again,” he reasoned.

“I know,” I said impatiently. “Because you can’t be here anymore.”

“Are you serious?” He groaned, throwing up his hands. “It was a mistake. You’re acting like I slept with your girl and not your brother!”

The autumn chill swept over the carpet, a shiver rolling through me—the balcony door opening and closing far too loudly in the charged atmosphere. My heart hammered between my ribs, the scent of marijuana and menthol finding me before the warmth of Jasper’s chest bled into my back.

“Yeah, Milo,” Jasper muttered next to my ear. “You’re acting like he slept with your girl.”

Never in my life had I wanted so badly to punch and kiss someone at the same time.

“I wonder why that is?” he wondered aloud.

His hand found mine at my side. He cupped it, his thumb brushing over my bandaged palm. I jerked back instinctively, but he squeezed, his finger digging into the wound that hadn’t fully closed and making me wince.

I was so thoroughly embarrassed, I thought I might die.

“Oh,” Oliver said quietly, recognition dawning on his face.

“Oh,” Jasper repeated smugly, resting his chin on my shoulder.

I cleared my throat. “Please go.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said for a second time, unmoving.

The humane thing to do would be to put some distance between us, so that Oliver could move on. I’d done so much damage by keeping him close and letting him misinterpret our relationship for my own benefit, thriving on the attention, and now he couldn’t let go.

Jasper was right. I needed to stop giving him the wrong idea.

“I know,” I rasped. “But now you need to go.”

Oliver stood there for a beat longer, on the verge of tears, tensions high.