I’m in love with my boyfriend’s brother.
But before you judge me, you need to know the whole story. I’ve been in love with Walker Weisman for as long as I can remember. And when our summer romance turned out to be a short-lived fling, I was left destroyed.
I fought hard, picked myself up by my boot-straps, and started to heal; tape and glue holding my heart together. I leaned on my friends, started dating again and felt almost human … when Walker wanted a second chance.
With my head and heart at war, a decision was needed—my boyfriend or his brother …
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QUICK PEEK INTO THE WORLD OF WALKER WEISMAN
Over the last week, I’ve
gotten to know Walker in a way I didn’t before. It could be all the time we’ve
spent together and the pressure of getting physical off the table. Whatever the
reason, it only makes me want him this
way even more.
“Baby, this is real nice.
Not complaining one bit, but you’re playin’ with fire … fuck.”
“Fire … what?” I sit up,
glaring down at him. I’m cool with pet-names, but … “Did you just call me a fire truck?”
“What? No,” Walker laughs, but I’m not seeing what’s so funny. “I said, ‘You’re playing with fire,’ and followed that up with, ‘fuck.’”
“You need to enunciate
better,” I sneer and climb off his lap. Just like that, moment ruined. Probably
for the best. Still scowling at Walker, I pull a hoodie over my head and starting
heading toward his kitchen.
I’m so damn bothered, if
there’s only one slice of pizza left, I’m eating it … by myself … and not offering him any … not even a nibble.
“Oh, come on, Fire Truck … it was just getting good.” Walker’s
chuckle follows me down the hall.
“Fuck you, and I’m not
sharing,” I return. A moment later, the sound of his bare feet slapping heavy
and quick on the hardwood floors coming toward me puts a little pep in my step.
“Go back to bed, Walker.”
Now, see, had we been at my apartment, I could have been to the
kitchen and eaten the pizza before he could catch me. But no, we just had to
come to his place when we realized there was no hot water at mine. I bet he had
that planned all along. That’s not taking into consideration my vertically
challenged ass.
“Just trying to not starve
to death, Max. If you move a little faster, you might have a fighting chance.”
At the end of the hall, I
bust a quick left and elect to cut through the formal dining room to sneak
around the back way. I guess Walker has the same idea and is gaining on me
quicker than I can get away. Thinking on my feet, and recalling every
ridiculous police chase on TV, I pull out one of the chairs to block his path. When
that doesn’t slow him any, I take the next chair and shove it to the ground. That
one works.
“You little shit.” Walker laughs
and easily hurdles the next one I toss in his way, anticipating my moves before
I make them.
“The pizza’s mine, dude. You
need a plan b.”
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