You’d known Elijah Hewson for a long time. Both being offsprings of members of Irish rock band U2, you were kind of a given in each other’s lives. He was practically your brother, you’d grown up beside him. Sitting together backstage while your dads were in concert, hanging out at industry parties, all of that shit — he was your brother.

Which was why what you were feeling now was extremely irrational. You’d seen this man in fucking diapers, for God’s sake. He had always been as pretty as he was now, whether that was when he was thirteen with unfortunate hair or twenty five with a sexy guitar and a grasp on your heart.

The night before had been a mixer, and after being wallflowers all night, you, Elijah and Grace — Burns, that was — had crashed at Grace’s apartment. The morning was quiet, and waking up on the floor had been uncomfortable. This wasn’t.

It was warm for Dublin, and you were standing and watching wistfully from the kitchen as Elijah played his guitar on the porch with no shirt on. You got the fuck off on this.

Not wanting to seem like a creep as the song he was playing came to an end, you busied yourself at Grace’s coffee machine Sure enough, Elijah Hewson came up next to you a few minutes later.

Still shirtless.

How had you never noticed before how sexy his upper torso was?

What the fuck was going on?

You became aware Elijah was talking to you.

“Huh?”

He gave a soft laugh. You were literally about to die. “I said, can you make me a cup of coffee?”

Sexy.