Who needs a cover when my best friend is my twin? We’ll probably go and do stupid shit. Seems to be the norm for us. Before. We aren’t fighting now, we’re much fucking more, but still, will we fall back into our easy banter and able to hang out normally?
He hasn’t said anything since we messed around and I snuck out of his room when he passed out, not knowing what the fuck I’d done and which lines I’d bulldozed over. We’re brothers. Blood. Grims.
Tris smacks my chest with the ball, making me remember he asked a question. Stuffing my internal battle, I shake my head. “Not a fucking chance.”
He laughs, but I know he fucks around with her. The whole fucking school knows. Silvercrest is known for its gossip, rich kids, and drama. I dribble the ball, faking left, going right, then racing for the hoop. Tris is hot on my heels as I do a layup. We both pant as the ball falls and rolls. We’ve been in here for hours, practicing. Well, him helping me practice.
“I think I’m going to ask Lena,” he mutters finally, his hands gripping his waist as he pants. Staring at him, I squint my eyes. I know he loves my cousin—it’s easily distinguishable—but I also know he dropped her, and I care.
“Don’t hurt her,” I practically threaten. His eyes widen a smidgen, then narrow as if understanding how deep my words go. Leaning to pick up the ball, he throws it aggressively at me. When I catch it with a loud thwack, he glowers.
“I’d never fucking hurt her, Atlas. Ever.” I smile smugly, knowing that for the truth, just needing that little reassurance of him saying it out loud.
“Good. Let’s hit the showers. We’re smelling rank,” I imply, getting a whiff of myself. At my house, we have loads of showers, rooms, and shit. It’s not all that surprising. This is the Grim Manor: it’s made up of forty-three rooms, homes a ton of Grims. We’re just lucky to be shut off from the other sectors of the manor. Dad had the walls sealed off in the nineties, thwarting the bloodthirsty family members that wanted his fortune. Being the eldest heir to Rutherford Grim’s fortune and namesake, he’d always be a target. It’s why most Grims escape the manor, traveling across the world to do the devil’s work and not be murdered by greed.
The things I’ve learned since accepting my fate has been wild, the Grim history being the most insane.
“I’ll hit the one by KJ’s room?” I nod, knowing that KJ only uses his master bathroom.
“See you on the other side, loser,” I yell as we both exit the gym on opposite sides. Tris has been a lifelong friend. We don’t hang out like me and KJ or even like me and Credence—my other cousin—but we’re as close as two kids in the Society could be.
After catching a shower, I towel off and open my joining bathroom door. I’m naked—no need to hide or cover up when it’s my master bathroom and bedroom connected—but as my eyes land on my brother’s, I wonder if I should.
We can’t do what we did.
It felt so fucking right, but god be damned, it epitomized wrong.
“You’re avoiding me,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes roaming my body hungrily. His fists are clenched, eyebrows drawn in, and the tick in his jaw pointing out his displeasure. After his rapt attention to my dick, he licks his lips and stares me down. My cock twitches, coming to life at the mere sight of his hunger.
We fucked up.
I’m so back and forth.
Why isn’t it easier to decide? He can move forward. But fuck, the thought of him moving forward to someone new, someone not me, makes my blood boil. I take the last ounce of my willpower and cover my junk with my heated palms.
His lavender gaze connects with mine. He’s so beyond pissed, and I want to ease that away for him, but I can’t. He needs to go, be free, and not be stuck as a Grim in the Society where cleaning dead bodies is my reality, not just my job.
“We can’t,” I utter. For the first time ever, my voice sounds soft and weak, like a spineless coward begging for scraps.
“We already did, Salvatore.” Shit. That name always does me in. He’s standing now, stalking toward my naked body, water droplets dripping down my chest. “There’s no going back.” His hands remove mine from my dick, replacing them with his own. Gripping my shaft as it grows in his hot palm, a groan slips free. This is so fucking wrong. “You’re mine now.” It’s all he growls before taking my mouth. He bites my lips, tugging on my lip ring, making me moan.
His hand fists me, pumping harshly, as if he’s convincing himself more than me that this is right. It feels so right. Perfect. Meant to be. I spear my tongue between his lips, fucking his mouth thoroughly. KJ hisses as I find the hem of his pants, snaking my palm inside to grip his rock-hard length.
“Fuck,” he lets out, stroking me more fervently.
I’m a mess in his hands, as he is mine. Both our precum leaks across our palms, coating us as sinfully as the DNA we share. While we’re tongue fucking, groping each other, unable to keep our distance, I hear Tris.
“Atlas! Bro, where you at?”
I push KJ off me and rush to my dresser, grabbing shorts. My heart races, the beat erratic in my chest as I beg it to slow. Not even killing people is this panic inducing. After he calls for me again, I run a hand through my hair as KJ situates himself on my bed, pretending to be on his phone.
“In here!” I yell,
