Page 3 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

No immediately obvious reason for it. I've spent six years in inner-city Sydney falling asleep to traffic and the thump of whichever underground club's taken up residence in my building's basement — silence isn't something I'm used to anymore.

I take another step towards the bedroom when I hear it again.

No figment this time: a dull thump against wood. The front door.

Then voices. Angry, frustrated voices.

I catch a few words. "...locked... key... shit... faster... before... sees..."

Shit. Intruders trying to get in and out before anyone catches them.

Today? Today's the day someone decides to break into Leon's house?

Another thump on the door and every part of me goes rigid.

Come on, Alexia, where are all those street smarts you keep telling everyone you picked up in Sydney?

My brain cycles through options at roughly the speed of a sloth wading through tar.

Hide? Where, behind the fridge? I might be a tidy five foot almost one, but my front and back... bits... make up in width what I lack in height.

Run? Towards Leon's room, which is towards the front door, towards the intruders. No thanks.

Call for help? Phone's charging in Leon's room.

Bad as those options are, they're still better than the one I seem to be hurtling towards: greeting intruders in a towel, gripping a tea-less mug. Should've grabbed the Screw For A Living one, that looked like it could dent a skull.

Metallic scratching. A cry of triumph. The door banging open.

Fuckity fuck shit fuck! Should've spent less time weighing up murder mugs and more time fleeing!

The front door slams shut, trapping me inside with them.

Fuckity fuck shit fuck times two.

My heart thunders as footsteps head towards the back of the house, where I am. Whatever they're after, it isn't in the living room or the two bedrooms along the hallway.

I grab the nearest thing that might pass for a weapon, a banana off the fruit bowl. I raise the mug over my shoulder like a shot put, banana in my other hand like a... fine, like a gun. Let's not quibble over my self-defence instincts right now.

I swallow, adrenaline spiking.

"Hurry up, we have to be quick," a male voice says. "I only came because you promised you'd just be grabbing something."

I go still.

I know that voice. But — no. It can't be.

"Why don't you stop rushing me and try his phone again," another voice says. Lower. Gravelly.

An entire bucket of ice tips over my head.

I know that voice too. Only too well.

"I've been trying, he must be on the plane already," the first voice adds.

Rhys.

One of Leon's best friends, and top on my list of people I'd volunteer for an all expenses paid, one-way flight to Neptune.