Axton

Blain was the only person who could drag me out of the house before noon on a weekend.  

We sat at the outdoor table of a café on the other side of the city, neutral territory. Somewhere far enough away from family tension, overly polite conversations, and stairs that creaked too loudly when you were trying to avoid someone.  

He took a sip of his coffee, made a face, and then added two more sugars without saying anything.  

“You always drink stuff you hate,” I said.  

“It builds character.” He stirred lazily. “Also, you’re one to talk. You drink black coffee like you’re in mourning.”

“I am.”

Blain grinned. “Yeah? What died?”

“My patience.”

He snorted. “Still got that golden personality, I see.”

We sat in silence for a minute. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward, just familiar. I could sit in silence with him easier than I could breathe around most people.  

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. “So. The girl.”

I gave him a look. “What girl?”

“The stepsister.”

I didn’t answer.  

Blain raised a brow. “You know, the one living in your house? Breathing your air? You’ve mentioned her, like, once. I feel like that’s not a coincidence.”

“I don’t talk about people who don’t want to be talked about.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding dramatically. “So you respect her.”

I sighed and looked away.  

Blain tapped the edge of his cup. “You know, when Eric told me your mom got married to that guy, I didn’t picture a daughter in the mix. Let alone one that had you this off-balance.”

“I’m not off-balance.”

“You haven’t answered half my texts this week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He leaned forward slightly, watching me. “You like her?”

I blinked at him. “No.”

“Do you want to like her?”

I didn’t answer. 

He smiled to himself like he already knew. “Man, I don’t even have to try. I can see it on your face. You’re spinning and you don’t even realize it.”

I leaned back, jaw tight. “She’s private. And cold. And not interested in small talk.”

“Yeah. Sounds terrible. I can totally see why you’re not thinking about her every night.”

I glared at him, but he just grinned wider.

We lapsed into silence again. And I hated how right he was.

I had been thinking about her. Way too much.

But not in the way Blain assumed. Not just because she was beautiful, or unreadable, or walked through the house like she was trying not to touch anything. 

It was the way she looked at people. Or didn’t.

The way she existed without asking permission. The way she said with her eyes, I’m not here to please anyone, like it was armor. 

And for some reason… I kept wondering what it would take to make her drop it.

Blain finally broke the quiet. “Look, man. If you ever need to talk, not just mess around, I’m here. You know that, right?”

I glanced at him. 

He didn’t say it in a pushy way. Just… steady.

I nodded once. “Yeah.”

He clapped his hands once. “Cool. Now tell me, on a scale from one to catastrophic, how weird it is having a hot girl in your house who technically isn’t your sister.”

I rolled my eyes. “Somewhere between a three and shut up, Blain.”

He grinned, and I let it slide because for all the noise he made, he was the only one who ever made it feel quiet.