It was shameful. A habit you swore you’d break.

Your life was practically perfect—on the surface, at least. Straight A’s, an impressive list of extracurriculars, the golden girl of your small town. President of the student council, future valedictorian, beloved by teachers and peers alike. And then there was him—your perfect boyfriend. Captain of the football team, kind, devoted. The boy every girl wished for.

But none of that stopped you from slipping down the hallway when the house was asleep, heart pounding in your chest.

Because there was one thing—one person—that could unravel you.

Callum.

Your stepbrother. The troublemaker. The contrast to your polished life. A sophomore in college, home for spring break, and just as reckless as ever. Everyone knew he was destined for greatness—a boxing prodigy, a force in the ring, a name whispered with awe. Undefeated, untouchable. A playboy who lived for the thrill of breaking rules.

Including this one.

He didn’t come home much. Maybe that was why it was so easy to pretend that this wasn’t real. That when he was gone, the memories didn’t cling to your skin like smoke, thick and inescapable.

But tonight, he was here. And you couldn’t stay away.

The hardwood floor was cold beneath your bare feet as you moved through the shadows, breath tight in your throat. The door to his room was slightly ajar, a silent invitation—or a trap. You hesitated, fingers curling around the edge before pushing it open just enough to slip inside.

Moonlight carved him from the darkness. He was stretched out on the bed, broad shoulders relaxed, hands folded behind his head.

You swallowed hard, shame curling in your stomach like something alive. You should leave. You should turn around, go back to your perfect life, to the perfect world everyone thought you belonged to.

“Trouble sleeping?”