Page 51 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
It’s a cliché, I know. But my blouse is wrinkled, and his white button-down smells like him. I rolled the sleeves up, but they still hang past my fingertips. The hem hits my mid-thigh. It feels like a hug.
I sit on a barstool at his kitchen island, watching him cook.
He’s surprisingly domestic, moving around the kitchen with the same easy grace he uses in the boardroom to flip pancakes, brew coffee, and slice fruit.
“Blueberry or chocolate chip?” he asks, holding up two bags.
“Both,” I say. “I earned it.”
“You certainly did.” He winks, tossing a handful of chips into the batter.
The kitchen is warm, filled with the scent of melting chocolate and the low hum of the coffee maker. For a heartbeat, it feels like we’re just a normal couple on a normal Saturday.
Then the counter vibrates.
Bzzz.
I freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. My phone is lying screen-up—a glowing rectangular intruder in the middle of our breakfast.
Ethan.
The name flashes on the screen like a warning siren.
Owen freezes too, spatula in hand. He looks at the phone, then at me.
“Are you going to get that?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
I reach out slowly and pick it up.
Ethan: I reviewed the ‘Be Seen’ assets. The copy for the billboard is wrong. Call me.
I exhale shakily, my chest loosening. “It’s work. He hates the billboard copy.”
“On a Saturday?” Owen scowls. “He needs an intervention. Don’t answer it.”
“I have to,” I say. “It’s the beta launch campaign. If the copy is wrong, the printers need to know by Monday.”
I unlock the phone. I start typing a reply.
Me: I’ll check the files. What specifically is wrong with it?
My thumb hovers over the send button.
But then, another text comes through.
Ethan: Also. Are you okay?
I stare at the screen.
Are you okay?
Three words. Simple. Harmless. Except they aren’t.
But coming from Ethan? It’s an earthquake.
He shut me out yesterday because he was afraid he’d lose control. He hasn’t spoken to me since—not after he must’ve watched me walk out that door with his brother. And now, amidst work demands, he’s asking if I’m okay.
“Tess?” Owen asks.
