Page 68 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

"It's totally fine. It's still fully in the foil." He peels off another piece and eats it, his head tilting in thought. "I mean it, it's fine. It's actually incredible. Last night she practically bit my head off when I wanted to try a tiny piece. Why then would she throw the whole thing out?"

And it hits me.

Like a road train straight to the solar plexus.

She made it for me.

She made the banana bread especially for me and I didn't come home.

She made it for me because I told her how special it was to me, and I didn't even give her the chance to do something nice for me, because I was too fucked in the head after our kiss to act like an adult and talk to her. I'm moving before the final thought forms in my head and I'm out the front door and down the driveway.

Rhys is right behind me, out on the front step, keys in his hand ready for his own early exit. "Hey, what's going on?"

I just stare at the empty spot in the driveway that we'd all silently agreed we'd leave vacant for her.

"Nothing," I finally say, voice cracking. "Just...a missed opportunity. But it's gone now. For good."

SEVENTEEN

Alexia

"You're early," one of the other RAs says as I pass him in the hallway on my way to my office.

It's the third time I've heard this since I got out of my car. It's barely 7:30, and the campus is relatively quiet but not completely dead. Or maybe I'm just not early enough. As evidenced by my effort to leave the house before anyone saw me, and still managing to run into all three of my housemates, the very tippy top of the list of people I did not want to see this morning. I also still had a dark grey Audi following me on the way to work, and still had said car still parking one spot over from me. I'd be flattered if I thought Rhys was stalking me. But surely stalkers acknowledge you beyond a cursory nod in the shared hallway.

And yet he was still not the worst of the encounters. I inwardly cringe, remembering running into both Zachary and Marcus outside my bedroom. I'm choosing to ignore what I overheard. Just as I'm choosing to forget the way Marcus felt pressed against me last night in the kitchen.

Two and a half more months.

I can do this.

I can wake up, go to work, come home, work on my thesis, get my dream job and be out of that house in two and a half months.

I can do hard things.

I thought I had done hard things.

Like turning down Rhys's offer for dinner after all these years, hearing Marcus tell me he didn't want me dating other men and then having to literally watch him walk a half-naked woman to his bedroom, and then wait up all night like a chump with a plate of banana bread for a guy who was never going to show up?

All hard things.

Surely it can't get worse.

Right?

Ha. Funny.

I unlock my office and close the door, and hope the outside world will stay outside.

Two hours later, I'm jittery with caffeine and, thankfully, making a dent in some of the articles that Professor Pollack dumped in my email overnight, all with the subject line "TOP PRIORITY READ THIS FIRST."

Covered in highlighter and in need of a good back massage, I push up from my desk and hear my phone ping. I glance at the notification, but it takes a moment to register — I don't recognise the group it's from.

But once I do, I sink back into my desk chair and groan. In a brand new message group, titled "House Maaaaaates," Marcus's first message reads:

Chatbox: Housemaaaaates

Marcus: