I twirled a forkful of spaghetti, watching as the marinara sauce pooled lifelessly on the plate. My appetite had long since disappeared, replaced by the weight of the day's events. The charred smell of my belongings, the lingering heat of the flames—everything about my burned-down apartment clung to me, suffocating.

My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen.

Dad.

I sighed, shoulders slumping.

Reluctantly, I picked up the call. "Hello?"

His voice was firm, though concern edged beneath it. "Nicolai, what's going on? I got a call from your landlord saying your apartment burned down. Are you okay?"

I winced, leaning back in my chair. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly, rubbing a hand over my face. "It's just—it's been a day."

Dad's tone sharpened. "What happened? How does an apartment just burn down, Nicolai?"

"It wasn't my fault," I snapped, already on the defensive. "I noticed there was some bad wiring, okay? I called the landlord and told him about it, but he said it wasn't a big deal."

A pause stretched on the other end, heavy with judgment. When he spoke again, his voice was cold steel. "And you believed him?"

I gritted my teeth, gripping the phone tighter. "What else was I supposed to do? He's the landlord! It's his job to handle that stuff!"

"You need to stop taking people at their word and start taking control of your own life—this is serious, Nicolai," he retorted.

His words cut deep, scraping against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I tried to cover my frustration with sarcasm. "Wow, thanks for the insight, Dad. Didn't know I called to hear the usual lecture."

He didn't rise to the bait. Instead, his voice softened, though the firmness remained. "I'm not lecturing you because I like to. I'm saying it because you're better than this. Running away from uncomfortable situations won't stop you from being unhappy. It will only complicate things more."

I swallowed hard, staring at my untouched plate of spaghetti. "Got it," I muttered.

He always had something to say. Always pointing out what I could do better, where I was falling short. Not once acknowledging the day I'd had—the house, my stuff, my entire life upended.

No, just another lecture about how I was the problem.

He just didn't get it—he didn't get me. So why even bother listening?

In the background, I heard my mother's soft voice, cutting through the tension. "Let him breathe, darling. He's had a rough day."

A pause. Then her voice grew clearer as she took the phone. "Nicolai, sweetheart," she said gently, "your father means well, but he forgets sometimes that you're already doing the best you can."

I exhaled, the lump in my throat easing slightly. "Thanks, Mom."

"Listen," she continued, her voice warm and steady. "I know this feels like the worst day ever, but you're strong, my boy. Don't let this shake you up."

Before I could respond, Dad's voice returned, firmer but noticeably calmer. "You've got six months in New York," he said, leaving no room for argument. "Use it. Prove to yourself—not to me, not to anyone else—that you can take control. You can't keep letting life push you around."

The line went dead.

I set the phone down and stared at my spaghetti, the once-inviting meal now a cold, unappealing mess.

Fuck, I need a distraction.

A cough snapped me out of my thoughts.

Across from me, Paxton scrolled through his phone, his face locked in its usual state of irritation, like merely existing in my proximity was painful. The silence stretched between us.

"Do you ever talk, or is brooding just your whole personality?" I said, setting the fork down with a deliberate clang.

Paxton didn't look up. "You don't like the silence? You could leave."

"Tempting," I shot back, leaning forward on my elbows. "But since I'm here, might as well get to know my delightful new roommate. So—anyone special? Or are you as miserable at relationships as you are at small talk?"

I focused on the rhythm of our unspoken game: hit, deflect, counter, repeat. It was always like this—an endless tug-of-war with no end in sight, no clear winner, just a constant, gnawing need to one-up each other.

Paxton finally looked up, his scowl deepening. "What is your problem?"

"Bored," I said simply, with a shrug. "And you're the only entertainment I've got. Come on. What's her name? Or is it his?"

Paxton's eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. "God, you're like a mosquito that won't die. Irene Melenez," he muttered finally. "Happy?"

I blinked. "Wait a second. Irene? As in Channel Six Irene? The one every guy at the gym pretends not to watch the news for?"

"Christ, stop being so hyped about it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Can you blame me?" I grinned. "She's hot. I mean, seriously, you managed to land her? Did she lose a bet or something?"

Paxton groaned. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you anything."

"Wait, wait," I interrupted, holding up a hand, my grin widening. "Aren't there rumors about Irene and Logan Rogers? You know, Mr. Perfect Jawline himself? Their shared segment on the news is pretty popular."

Paxton stiffened, his jaw tightening.

After a moment, he exhaled sharply. "We're... in an open relationship," he admitted begrudgingly. "Her job has her traveling constantly, and we're long-distance most of the time anyway. It just works out better this way."

My eyebrows shot up, my smirk faltering for the first time. "Open relationship? Seriously? You're okay with that?"

Paxton crossed his arms. "It's practical," he said, his tone clipped. "We're both adults. We trust each other."

I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. "Man, I could never do that. Call me old-fashioned or whatever, but the idea of sharing someone I'm with?" I shuddered theatrically.

"Yeah, well," Paxton muttered, clearly irritated, "good thing no one's asking you to."

"Relax, Garroway." I held up my hands, palms out. "I'm just making conversation."

"Well, don't," he snapped. "If I wanted conversation, I wouldn't have let you move in."

The air between us thickened, heavy with unspoken rules and invisible boundaries we had crossed.

"Why the hell do you even hate me?" I asked.

Paxton's voice was sharp, filled with something colder than anger. "You really wanna know? I don't think you can handle the truth, but since you asked, I think you're a bad influence on Jace. You waltz into his life with your perfect little act, pretending to be the good guy, but I see through it. The way you look at him—it's not brotherly, Nicolai. And don't even try to deny it."

The words scraped against my raw nerves.

I'd been so careful, fuck. How did Paxton figure it out? 

Jace had been in my life for more than a decade, a constant thread through my chaotic world. He was the guy who sat with me through my dad's surgery, who pulled me out of every dark moment with effortless warmth, who made me feel seen. If I ever lost Jace, I would lose a part of myself too.

"Do you even understand what you're implying?" My voice came out quiet, almost a croak. The game was different now, the stakes higher. This wasn't just about proving who could take the most hits.

Paxton had something dangerous now, something that could rip me apart. He knew it, and I knew it too.

His expression didn't soften. If anything, it hardened, like he knew he'd landed a direct hit and wasn't about to back down. "You heard me. All that time you spent following my brother around, looking at him like he hung the damn moon. It was pathetic then, and it's even more pathetic now. The guy's taken."

The words scraped against raw nerves, the sting impossible to ignore. My chest tightened, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Paxton laughed, low and bitter. "Don't I? God, Nicolai, you were so obvious. You think I didn't notice the way you lit up whenever he was around? The way you'd find excuses to stick close?" He shook his head, his lip curling. "You practically threw yourself at him."

"Shut up." My heart pounded in my ears, and I could feel the weight of my secret pressing down on me.

But Paxton wasn't done. If anything, his voice turned colder, sharper, like a blade honing in on its target. "You know what? Maybe Jace deserves to know just how far you'd go to stay in his orbit. I wonder how he'd feel about his best friend hiding something this big from him."

The threat landed like a punch to my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. My breath caught in my throat as I froze, my hands clenching tighter. "You wouldn't," I said, but my voice wavered, betraying the fear creeping into my veins.

Jace could never know.

If Jace found out, I knew—knew—that I'd lose him forever. I could never be that guy in his eyes. Not the guy who maintained a friendship with ulterior motives.

But Paxton didn't stop. If anything, he pressed harder. "Wouldn't I? I think my brother would be interested to know what kind of person he's been trusting all these years. You think you're good for him? You're just a coward, Nicolai—hiding your feelings, hiding who you really are. It's pathetic."

The denial was automatic, a knee-jerk reaction born out of years of practice. "You're wrong. I would never do anything to hurt Jace."

"Really?" Paxton leaned in, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Because lying to him every day about who you are and what you want—yeah, that's not gonna hurt him at all."

"Stop," I hissed, my voice trembling. My nails bit into my palms, grounding me. Barely.

Paxton only leaned back, arms crossed, his expression a mix of triumph and disgust. "You're so scared of him finding out that you'd rather let me hold this over your head than deal with the fallout. And that's all I need to know."

Tears blurred my vision as the weight of it all came crashing down. I had nothing left to hide, and Paxton knew it. The game had been played, and I was the one who'd lost.

I wanted to scream, to hit something, to do anything to shut him up. Instead, I stood frozen, shaking, my chest tightening as if my body couldn't contain the storm inside me.

Finally, my hands shot out, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled back a step.

Paxton took his time straightening, brushing invisible dust off his shirt as a slow, infuriating smile spread across his face. "Hit a nerve, didn't I?" he said, his voice low and mocking. "Good."

For a heartbeat, I hesitated, my fists trembling at my sides. My breath came in short, uneven bursts, my mind screaming at me to hit him again, to wipe that smug expression off his face.

But instead, I turned abruptly, my chest heaving as I stormed out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind me with a force that rattled the walls, the sound echoing through the silence. Inside my room, I leaned against it, my legs giving out beneath me. I slid down slowly, my back scraping against the wood as I tried to catch my breath.

My chest burned, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I pressed my hands to my face, trying to block it all out.

What if Paxton really outed me? What if he told Jace that my feelings weren't platonic, but romantic? Would Jace be disgusted? Would he start loathing me for springing this on him when he was with someone else?

The weight of everything pressed down on me, sharp and suffocating, leaving no room to breathe. My tears fell unchecked, hot streaks carving their way down my face, but I didn't bother wiping them away.

Why did it always end like this? My apartment was gone, my friendship with Jace teetering on a knife's edge, and now Paxton knew my secret and was using it like a blade hovering above everything I had left.

I thought about leaving—about packing a bag and disappearing into the chaos of the city, where no one knew me and nothing could touch me. But where would I go? I always came back, didn't I? No matter how far I ran, I never outran myself.

The smell of smoke clung to me, a ghost of my lost apartment—and a reminder of everything I stood to lose if Paxton made good on his threat.

A/N

Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed this book, please, like, comment and subscribe, it really is the best way to support me on Tapas and really helps motivate me as well! Please look forward to the next update on Saturday! <33