Living With My Stepbrother's Best Friend

Sadie's POV

I woke up with my heart trying to punch through my ribcage.

The dream was still there, clinging to my skin like humidity. Jake Montgomery, blindfolded and tied to the edge of that stupid infinity pool at his family's estate. His white T-shirt soaked through, plastered against abs that had no business existing on a high school senior. Me, straddling his lap like I had every right to be there, my fingers tangled in his hair while I kissed him like I was trying to prove something.

"You really like me this much?" Dream-Jake had murmured against my mouth, voice all gravel and amusement.

"Enough to lock you up," I'd said, and meant it.

Then he'd broken free, flipped me into the water, and—

I shoved my face into my pillow and let out a sound that was half groan, half whimper. My lips still tingled. My whole body felt like I'd been plugged into an outlet. This was the third time this week, and every dream was getting worse. More detailed. More real. More physical.

I was seventeen years old and apparently a complete pervert.

"SADIE!" Brooklyn's voice cut through my self-loathing like a foghorn. "You have to see this!"

I cracked one eye open. My roommate was practically vibrating next to my bed, phone screen shoved so close to my face I could count the pixels. Maya sat cross-legged on her own bed, already fully dressed with her debate notes spread around her like she'd been up since dawn. Zoe was by the window, fingers moving over invisible piano keys the way she did when she was trying to stay neutral.

"What," I managed, voice still rough with sleep and shame.

"Jake Montgomery's speech at the Boston Youth Leadership Summit!" Brooklyn was doing this thing where she bounced on her toes, all five-foot-four of her radiating pure chaos energy. "Did you see what the school posted last night? Oh my GOD, Sadie, he's—just watch."

She hit play before I could protest.

The video filled her screen. Jake stood at a podium in a navy suit that probably cost more than my mom's first car, the Lincoln Heights Lions colors looking criminally good on him. Behind him, some complicated financial investment model glowed on a massive screen. But I couldn't focus on that. I was too busy cataloging details my brain had apparently memorized without permission: the way his dark brown hair was swept back, showing off that perfect forehead and those razor-sharp cheekbones. Those pale blue eyes that always looked a little tired, a little dangerous, like he hadn't slept in days and might do something reckless about it.

His voice came through Brooklyn's phone speakers. Low. Smooth. Every syllable landing with this lazy confidence that made my stomach flip.

I knew that voice. I knew it from a year ago, from that summer before everything changed, when he'd pressed me against the wall of the old drive-in theater and—

"He's literally perfect," Brooklyn sighed. "Like, genetically perfect. How is that fair?"

"Lincoln Heights girls are going to be insufferable for the next month," Maya said, not looking up from her notes. She pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose. "The comment section is already a disaster."

"Not just our school," Zoe added softly. She had that artist's way of seeing things, like she was always half in another world. "Check the replies. Girls from other states are losing it."

I made a noncommittal sound and rolled over, pulling my comforter up to my chin. If I closed my eyes, maybe I could pretend I hadn't spent the last year being pathetically in love with someone who didn't remember I existed.

Except he had known I existed. Once.

That summer between sophomore and junior year, back when Mom was still working double shifts and I was helping out at StarNet Café—before she married Richard Montgomery two months ago and turned our lives upside down with Lincoln Heights money and country club politics—Jake had shown up one night, looking like he was running from something, and we'd— 

"Sadie, you're not even looking!" Brooklyn complained.

"I saw it," I muttered into my pillow.

"Don't be boring. Watch it again. With us."

I wanted to tell her that I'd watched that stupid speech seventeen times already, that I'd memorized the exact way his mouth moved when he said investment portfolio, that I'd screen-recorded it like a creep and then immediately deleted it out of shame. But that would require explaining why I cared, and I'd rather die.

So I sat up, grabbed my own phone, and pretended to scroll through Instagram while they replayed it.

Big mistake.

The school's official account had posted it everywhere. The comments were exactly what I'd expected: a whole lot of fire emojis, keysmash typing, and thirsty observations that made my face burn.

that waist-to-shoulder ratio should be illegal

THE WAY HIS VOICE DROPS WHEN HE SAYS 'STRATEGIC INVESTMENT' 😭😭😭

i would let him explain compound interest to me for HOURS

I scrolled past those, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicked up every time I saw his name. Then I hit a comment that made my stomach drop.

didn't he take a gap year last year? heard it was for a girlfriend

My thumb froze on the screen.

yeah i heard that too! apparently she's at some fancy ballet academy in Boston. they've been together forever

makes sense. Montgomery family probably only dates other old money families

The phone slipped a little in my grip. I tightened my fingers, staring at those words until they blurred.

Girlfriend.