He’d been talking for a while now—rocking back and forth in the chair across the room, like sitting still was impossible. Not really to us anymore—just out loud, like keeping the words in might tear a hole through him.

Jamie, my boyfriend, sat to my left, slouched forward, phone screen glowing in his face like it mattered more than the room—more than his brother’s turmoil over his impending divorce. I couldn’t help the sigh that passed my lips.

He didn’t notice, of course, but Theo did. He stopped talking mid-sentence, like he heard something I didn’t mean to say out loud. The silence pulled me out of my own internal spiral.

We hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, since his birthday—since I took things too far. He’d been staring at me since he’d arrived—in ways his brother never did. I couldn’t help myself; I just wanted to feel good—wanted. And Theo… was easy. Safe. I thought.

And yet, here we were again. Another night weighted in hurting—just, this time, it was more his than my own.

I caught him looking at me, again, head cocked slightly to the side, ocean blue eyes staring a hole into me. There was the slightest hint of a smile before he continued…

“I gave her so much, I made sure she wanted for nothing, worked myself to the bone. For nothing. I chose her…

And you two—you’re just here, content with what you have.”

Well, that stung.

I know he didn’t mean it like that—but he was right. I didn’t need a lot. Not money, not cars, not a big house.

I just wanted to be with someone. Someone who gave a fuck.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I wasn’t with someone I loved, not anymore. He didn’t want me, didn’t see me. This whole time, he’d been cheating on me, looking for his next conquest. The attention and devotion I gave him would never be enough. I still hadn’t decided what to do yet…

Logically, you break up, right? But, at least with him, I knew what to expect.

I sighed again—and again, Theo caught it. 

Jamie only snapped back to the present when his mother called from upstairs, asking him to go up. His own frustrated sigh was noticeable.

Theo and I locked eyes the moment Jamie stood up. Like the room had shifted, and we both knew it. 

“You could have so much more, D,” Theo continued, quieter. “You’re smart and capable. You’re beautiful…”

Those last words hung in the air like smoke—suffocating. I knew I was beautiful, desirable, just not to the one person I’d actually chosen. I didn’t know what to say, but he was used to my silence by this point. He got up, pulling a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, “You coming?”

I was already getting up from the comfort of the sofa—and he noticed. Of course, he did; he seemed to notice everything I did. 

It wasn’t like I wanted to follow him outside; I knew I shouldn’t. I just didn’t want to be alone either. He didn’t know about his brother’s infidelity, no one did—not while I still hadn’t confronted him myself. But I didn’t want to be alone in my mind with it either. 

Watching him as we passed through the dining room, I noticed his physique—really noticed it now. His charcoal grey shirt fit him perfectly, clinging to his biceps and chest. He wasn’t hard-built—there was still a softness in his stomach, although mostly flat, but I liked that. He worked out, took care of himself, but he also indulged. I mostly indulged…

I noticed his copper-toned hair, tapered at the sides but fluffy on top from running his fingers through it all night. There was a tension in his shoulders—the stress of his wife’s unsurprising revelation. 

We all knew it was coming; we just never understood it. He wasn’t perfect—he had a wandering eye I was becoming all too familiar with, but he always went home to her. He doted on her—her every ridiculous, self-indulgent whim. 

Was that jealousy? No. 

Outside, I leaned against the dining room window while he stood across from me, close but not too close, and I noticed how well he filled out his loose gym shorts—front and back. 

I never realised how tall he actually was, either. I must have just made it up to his shoulders, even in my platformed trainers. He was shorter than his brother, still, but somehow he seemed bigger, more imposing…

I couldn’t help the flash of an image in my mind—lifted up against that window, pressing into the cold glass with my legs wrapped around him… Shit.

I watched him light his cigarette, shielding the flame from the cold night air—his hands were big, strong-looking, his wedding ring noticeably gone. Understandable. I felt my nipples tense slightly under my constrictive bodysuit—just the late winter breeze, I told myself. The fabric was thick, the night darker still—he wouldn’t have noticed.

Despite that, the cold didn’t seem to really hit me—not with the way I caught him looking at me. Like I could talk about staring now…

His gaze lingered, purposeful and obvious—like he wasn’t done speaking, he was just choosing silence instead. It wasn’t new, but it felt different now—more certain, more direct, like he didn’t care about crossing any lines anymore.

He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled sharply towards the sky. A clear, starry night, I noticed—anything to stop me from staring right back. I needed him to know I wouldn’t be crossing any boundaries… not with him.

“You always dress like this?” he asked, pulling my focus back to him.

I glanced down. Black cotton tracksuit bottoms hung low on my hips, showing just enough skin to note the bodysuit clasped tight between my legs. It was always a fight to wear properly—my full ass and hips made sure of that—but I loved the way it hugged my curves and held my tits in place, making them look smaller than they were.

I shifted my weight against the dining room window, gravel crunching underfoot breaking my silence. 

“Like what?” I managed a smile—sweet, if not a little flirtatious. Fuck…

His head tilted again, like he was studying me. “Like you don’t care who’s looking… but deep down, you want them to.”

I rolled my eyes. “You think too much.”

He stepped closer as he took another drag, this time exhaling toward my chest. “You’re not denying it.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. He was right—I liked being seen, and wanted. Just not by you. Not now. 

Another drag. Another pause.

“I don’t know how he doesn’t see you. Not properly,” he said, voice dipping low. “Maybe he does, and doesn’t care.”

That stung, too. 

He didn’t care, not enough. He knew I’d always be there, waiting for him to come back to me. I looked away, out to the garden, the moonlight cutting silver lines through the bare trees. They’d be budding again soon…

I didn’t want to think about Jamie—his disinterest, his lies, the way he chipped away at me, day by day. Theo was making that too easy. He took another step toward me. Close enough now that I could feel the heat of him, smell the sweet edge of alcohol on his breath, smoke curling between us like a promise. It was intoxicating.

“I see you,” he told me. Quiet, but full of intent. 

My eyes found his again. The cigarette burned low between his fingers as he took one last drag, his gaze fixed on me. He flicked the butt toward the ground, exhaling toward my chest again—and my breath rose to meet the smoke, heavy and sharp. 

Then, without asking, he reached for me and brushed a loose curl from my cheek. His fingers were warm—soft. The touch lingered, burning away any restraint I thought I had. I didn’t move—didn’t flinch—and that was all the invitation he needed. 

He closed the space between us, his fingers tracing along the line of my jaw, lifting my chin gently so I had no choice but to look at him. 

“I don’t get you,” he murmured. “You’re with him. But he doesn’t appreciate you. Doesn’t see you…”

I searched for a reply, but nothing came. Just breath—and heat, curling low in my stomach. His eyes—icy blue, burning—dropped to my lips.

“I see the way you look at me. You know the way I look at you,” he leaned in. Close enough that our bodies touched. Barely. But it started a fire in me. 

My lips parted. I wanted to lie, say he was wrong. But I couldn’t, not even to myself now.

His hand slipped from my chin, gliding down my neck, across my shoulder, hovering—hesitating—over my chest. His knuckles brushed the curve of my breast, just enough to make my breath catch.

“I should stop…” The words were barely audible. Like he didn’t want me to hear them—didn’t want me to draw the line and stop it before it went somewhere we couldn’t get back from.

Still, he didn’t stop. This wasn’t like last time. This wasn’t the heat of alcohol driving our actions. It was just him, and me—still not stopping him.

His palm settled flat against the centre of my chest. I wondered if he could feel how fast my heart was beating through the thick fabric. Goosebumps rose across my arms—not from the cold. From him. Fuck it…

His hand moved—slowly, deliberately—from my chest to the curve of my neck, the other pressing against the glass behind me, locking me in place.

Finally, he kissed me. No hesitation. Just burning desire.

His lips were soft and full against my own, tasting of cigarettes. I melted into it—gave into it, and him. I gave in to the solid press of his body against mine—all heat, hunger, and quiet desperation. 

The thrum of my pulse dropped low and settled between my legs. My nipples tightened against the fabric of my bodysuit. 

Could he feel that? I think I wanted him to.

Before, I felt frozen—incapable of moving my body when I should have. Jamie could come back downstairs any minute. But almost on instinct, my hands slid up the sides of his body, between us—feeling the hardness of his chest, the tension in his muscles. 

I felt one of his legs slip between mine, spreading them open while his thigh pressed against my pussy. He couldn’t feel the wetness building beneath my bottoms and bodysuit—but the heat? He’d feel that. 

I ground against him—just a little. Just enough to feel something. To feel wanted—needed, craved. A moan slipped out before I could stop it—and he swallowed it, desperate, lips parting as his tongue sought out mine.

I dug my nails into his chest, forcing out a low groan from him. 

It took everything I had to break the kiss. Or did he? 

But I didn’t push him away. And he didn’t pull away. His hand left my neck, finding the swell of my chest and groping—hesitant but needy. When I didn’t stop him, the other left the windowpane and slid down my body, finding my ass and pulling me into him, forcing me to grind harder into his thigh and feel the bulge, blatant in his shorts.

“We should stop,” I whispered, but my lips still brushed his. I didn’t want to, but we had to.

He only nodded, but his hands stayed where they were—kneading me, making my body ache in the best way, like he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. His fingers traced through the fabric of my top—teasing the painfully hard nipple, making me want more.

My hands twitched on his chest. I wanted to move them lower, find the bulge in his shorts, feel the hardness—the heat. It took every last bit of strength I had not to give in further to what we were doing—the betrayal. 

We had to stop. Now. Just for now…

And as if he knew, Jamie came bounding down the stairs inside. Loud and obnoxious, of course, but we were both grateful.

Theo hesitated, but stepped away from me, turning away from the back door to adjust himself and light another cigarette as Jamie appeared in the doorway. 

“You ready to go?” he asked me, barely acknowledging his brother. Charming. 

Did he actually care about anyone but himself? Did he even notice the heat in the air? The flush in my face? 

I sighed again, nodding. 

Theo finally turned to face us, glancing at his brother—like he couldn’t really look at him either. But when his gaze found me again, it lingered. Longer than it should have. 

“I’ll see you guys out,” was all he could say, stamping out his half-spent cigarette. 

The silence was loud as he walked us to the door. The hug he gave his brother was short. Curt. Obligatory. But when he hugged me, he lingered—full of heat. Longing. His lips brushed just beneath my jaw, and every nerve in my body lit up. 

Jamie didn’t notice—he never would...