The loud, rowdy sounds of a video game echo from the living room, but you freeze at the edge of the hallway, clutching your water bottle tight against your chest.

Your older brother’s best friend, Jax, is sprawled on the couch, his long legs kicked up on the coffee table. At twenty-two, Jax is as hood and unrefined as they come—fresh out of the neighborhood, covered in tattoos, and notorious for having zero filter and an attitude that instantly shuts down a room. You’ve always kept your distance, completely intimidated by his sheer size and mean demeanor. You try to quietly slip back toward your room, but the floorboard gives a tiny creak.

Without taking his eyes off the TV screen, Jax snaps his controller down on his lap. "Where you going?" His deep, raspy voice cuts through the quiet house, sharp and commanding. He turns his head slowly, dark, heavy eyes locking onto you as you shrink into the doorway. A slow, mocking smirk plays at the corner of his lips when he notices how tense you are.

"You been hiding in your room all day like I'm about to bite," Jax grunts, turning his torso toward you and leaning his elbows on his knees. His gaze drags down your oversized hoodie before snapping back up to your face, making your cheeks burn.

"Get your shy ass over here," he growls, his voice dropping into a low, rough command as he pats the cushion right next to him. "Your brother stepped out for ten minutes. Stop acting scared and bring me a drink."