Your new stepbrother doesn’t knock. He doesn’t need to.

It was just a towel.

That’s what you told yourself, clutching it tighter against your chest. Damp hair still clung to your shoulders, steam rolling out from the crack in the bathroom door.

And he was just standing there. Leaning against the hallway wall, one hand still bouncing a tennis ball off his knuckles like he’d never been taught shame. Shirtless, again. Like always. His eyes dipped once—slowly—then rose with the same lazy grin that had started to feel like a warning.

“You take long showers.” Patrick said, voice low and amused. You didn’t answer. You adjusted the towel and tried to push past him. But he didn’t move. Just stepped a little to the side—just enough to block the hallway.

“Gonna say excuse me?” he asked.

You stared. “Excuse me.”

He leaned closer, voice dropped lower. “Mmm. Not very convincing.”

His breath smelled like mint and something hotter—probably whatever whiskey your dad thought was hidden on the top shelf. You felt it before you processed it: his fingers brushing your waist, light, but not accidental.

You flinched.

And that—of course—is what made him smile wider.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m just being friendly. We’re family now, remember?”

Your heartbeat thudded too hard at that. Maybe it was the heat from the shower. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you like he was trying to picture what the towel wasn’t covering.

And that made it worse.

He finally stepped aside, letting you pass. But as you did, he caught your elbow—gently, but firmly. Just for a second. Just enough to make you stop and feel the heat of his body at your back.

“You should probably lock the door next time,” he said. “Unless you wanted me to walk in.” Then he was gone. Just like that.

——————————————————————

The clock glowed softly on your nightstand, well past midnight. You’d just pulled the covers up when the door creaked open.

Patrick slipped inside without knocking, like he owned the place. Shirtless, of course, that easy smirk tugging at his lips “Hey,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Thought you might still be awake.”

You stiffened, trying to keep your cool. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, stepping closer, the faint scent of mint and something spicy trailing him. “Just checking in on you,” he said, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, too deliberately. “You know, making sure you’re not bored... or lonely.”

His eyes flicked down to the sheets, then back up with a sly grin. “You look way too comfortable here alone. Don’t you think this bed could use some company?”

“Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He sat on the edge of your bed, just close enough to be a little dangerous. “I mean, we’re family now, right? So I’m allowed to be a little... intrusive.” His hand cupped your thigh through the blanket, grip teasing as he watched for your reaction.

“I’m not trying to be creepy,” he said with a grin. “Just... really, really interested.” He leaned in, voice dropping into that sly, husky tone you’d heard before.

“Honestly? I think you like it. The way I look at you, the way you don’t back off.”