XAVIER'S POV
I stepped out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind me. The cold air hit my skin, but it helped. I needed something to snap me out of my own head.
I stared down at the street below and answered the call.
"Katrina."
Her voice came through soft, tired. "Hey, babe."
I ran a hand through my hair. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice."
I paused. "…It's late."
"I know. I couldn't sleep."
There was something off in her voice.
"Did something happen?"
"No. I've just… been overthinking."
"About what?"
She laughed a little, but it didn't sound happy. "Everything. Life. The press. My career. Us."
I leaned against the railing. "Don't spiral, Kat."
"I'm trying not to. I just—sometimes I feel like you don't talk to me anymore."
I blinked. "I'm talking to you now."
"That's not what I mean."
I stayed quiet.
She continued. "Like... I know you're busy. But I don't feel close to you lately."
Guilt tugged at my chest.
Was she wrong?
No.
Was I ready to admit that?
Also no.
"You know I care about you," I said.
She laughed lightly, but it sounded forced. "I don't know. I feel like we don't talk much anymore. You're either with the team, or training, or off somewhere. I just—" She stopped. "Never mind."
"Katrina."
"I said it's fine."
My fingers tightened around the railing.
Now would be the time to tell her. Just say it. Just tell her Melissa's here.
But I didn't.
Instead, I said, "I saw your sister today."
There was a pause. "Melissa?"
"Yeah."
Another pause. "Where?"
"At a shoot."
"You were modeling together?"
I nodded, then realized she couldn't see me. "Yeah."
"She never told me she was modeling again."
"She probably didn't want to make it a thing."
Katrina sighed. "She never tells me anything."
I stayed quiet.
"She used to tell me stuff," she added. "Before we grew up… or grew apart, whatever."
"She looked good," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Silence.
I scrambled. "I meant, like, professionally. She was composed. Confident. It was a good shoot."
Katrina laughed again, softer this time. "I'm not worried. Melissa's always been good at hiding everything under a perfect face."
I didn't answer.
The silence between us was long.
Then she said, "You're coming back tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. Early."
"Okay. I love you."
I swallowed. "Love you too."
The call ended.
I let out a long breath and stared out into the rain-soaked streets.
What the hell was I doing?
Inside, Melissa was probably still curled up on my couch in my hoodie.
I shouldn't have asked her if she liked me.
Stupid move.
Because now I couldn't stop thinking about it.
My phone buzzed again.
Liam.
I picked up. "What now?"
"BROOO," he shouted, clearly at a club. "Where are you?"
"Why?"
"The whole squad is here. You better show your face!"
"I'm not really in the mood."
"Come on, man. You've been too quiet lately. Let loose."
"I'm babysitting."
"What?"
I laughed under my breath. "Next time."
Liam didn't hang up.
Instead, he turned his phone around, flipping the camera. "Bro, look."
The screen shook a little, then steadied. He was walking through the VIP section of some club. One of our rookies, I think Darren, had his face buried in some girl's chest while another one straddled his thigh.
"Is that—" I squinted. "That's Coach's niece, man!"
Liam barked a laugh. "She said she's eighteen now. Full send."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You guys are disgusting."
"You say that like you wouldn't be here if you weren't cuffed."
"I'm not trying to die," I muttered. "Katrina would set the whole place on fire with me inside."
Liam turned the camera back on himself, eyes half-lidded and glossy. "Whatever, simp. Just know we're living tonight. You remember living, right? That thing you stopped doing since you met Miss Curly Hair and Big Eyes."
I cracked a smile despite myself. "You're an idiot."
"I'm a free man. That's what I am. Free and getting my face sat on in about ten minutes—hold up, let me show you—"
"Liam!"
He was already moving again, shoving his way toward a couch where two more of the team were making out with a pair of girls like they were starving. Someone had their shirt off. I didn't want to know who.
"I'm hanging up."
"You better show tomorrow or I'm telling everyone you got neutered."
"Later, dickhead."
I ended the call and stepped back inside.
The warmth of the apartment hit me fast.
Lights were still dim.
Melissa's mug sat on the coffee table.
But the couch?
She was passed out.
Fast asleep, head tilted back slightly, her legs curled under her.
The hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and the sharp line of her collarbone.
Her lips were slightly parted.
Soft.
I stood there for a second longer than I should've.
God, she looked—
Stop.
I shook my head and walked over.
"Melissa," I said quietly.
No answer.
"Hey, you'll mess up your neck like that."
Still nothing.
I crouched down in front of her. Her breathing was even. Her lashes rested gently against her cheeks.
I hated how peaceful she looked.
Because it made me want things I wasn't supposed to want.
I stared at her lips again.
Then forced myself to look away.
Don't be a creep.
I sighed, slipped one arm under her legs, another behind her back, and lifted her gently.
She didn't wake — just stirred a little and tucked her face into my shoulder.
Of course she did.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
She was warm.
And lighter than she looked.
I carried her down the hall into the guest room and gently laid her down on the bed.
Her hand gripped my hoodie for a second, like she didn't want to let go.
I pulled it loose, tucked the blanket over her, and stepped back.
She didn't move again.
I turned off the light, walked out, and shut the door.
Then leaned against it.
My heart was beating faster than it should've.
"Get a grip, Xavier," I whispered.
This was Melissa.
Katrina's sister.
The girl who couldn't stand me.
The girl I wasn't supposed to even look at twice.
And yet…
I couldn't stop.