I stare at my test paper in disbelief. A sixty-nine. A fucking D. What the hell am I going to do? I can’t lose my 4.0 GPA the final semester of high school.

Don’t panic, Claud. It’s March. You still have time to turn this around.

I listen to every word Mr. Garrison says. I make note of every mark and number he writes but very few things click for me; math has never been my strong suit. I shouldn’t have taken this AP calculus class. Dumb, dumb, dumb move. It’s going to ruin my GPA.

I hang back until my classmates are gone and dawdle toward my teacher’s desk. “Do you have a minute, Mr. Garrison?”

“I have a little time. I assume you’d like to discuss your score on yesterday’s test?”

I hold out the paper and look at the huge red number. “This is going to bring my average down a lot.”

“But not impossible to bring up.”

“Not impossible if you understand calculus, which I don’t.” I need help. I’m falling further and further behind every day.

“I don’t privately tutor my own students, but I can recommend an individual for hire if you think you’d like to pursue that.”

School has always come easy to me. I’ve never had to study but I’ve boxed myself into a corner in this class. I can’t afford not to make high A’s on the rest of my tests. One-on-one attention is likely the only way to make that happen. “I think private tutoring is what it’s going to take for me to catch up.”

“A former student of mine tutors in his spare time. Brilliant young man. Jacob Rial. I believe he’s around the same age as your brother.”

Jacob Rial. “Sounds a little familiar.”

“He tutors on Mondays, Wednesdays, and some weekends.”

Today is Friday. Maybe I can get in a few sessions with him before next week’s test. “That would be great if he’s available.”

Mr. Garrison jots down a phone number. “I recommend calling as soon as possible to see what spots he has available. He books up quickly.”

I could almost kiss this man. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

My mood is slightly improved on the drive home until “We Don’t Talk Anymore” comes on the radio. I used to love that song but now I can’t hear it without thinking of Bram.

Two months since that night and not a single word from him. He hasn’t come around the house, not even the two weekends Owen was home from school.

Noel Abraham Windsor. Bram. My Duke. I have loved him my entire life.

The first memory I have of him is from when I was three, maybe four. I was crying because I didn’t know how to swing. He stopped whatever he was doing with Owen and River and pushed me until I was content. And that’s how the following years went. He always made sure I was happy. And I loved him for it.

For years, I was nothing more than one of the boys to him. Owen’s baby sister. His little dove. The pest who tagged along everywhere they went. Or at least tried.

The age gap eventually ruined everything. Owen, River, and Bram discovered girls, and I wasn’t the kind they wanted around. Of course, I didn’t understand their fascination; I was too young. I’m glad it took years for my immature brain to figure out what Bram was doing with those girls. It broke my heart when I finally did.

He’s twenty-three. I’m seventeen. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be his girl—his only girl. It’s what I’ve wanted since… always.

I was sixteen when the boys came home for summer break last year. I spent every day hanging out with them. Despite all my efforts, Bram never once looked at me like I was anything more than their little Claud. Still just one of the boys.

It. Pissed. Me. Off.

I was growing up, dammit. I was getting boobs and hips and a curvy ass. But he just wouldn’t fucking see me. That’s when I decided it was time to act if he were ever going to be mine.

Bram left for fall semester. Being away from him during that time was the hardest five months of my life. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see him.

His dark hair, hazel eyes, and tanned, muscular body made an appearance every night in my dreams. And that V, too. That damn V at his waist, pointing at what I now know is a cock that gets hard when it presses against my body.

I used every moment of our time apart to get in shape. Clear my acne. Learn how to walk, talk, and dress to prove to a twenty-three-year-old man that I was no longer a kid. He would, by God, see that I was no longer that little girl who once begged to be allowed inside their boys-only fort. He would see me as a woman to be reckoned with. A sexual being who wants him. A virgin more than ready to give herself to him.

He took one look at me, and I knew without a bit of doubt that I’d accomplished exactly what I set out to do. Bram finally noticed me. For the first time ever, he saw me as a desirable woman. And it freaked him the fuck out.

On one hand, my plan worked like a charm. On the other, it completely backfired in my face.

I didn’t sleep a wink after I left Bram on the couch. I spent the rest of the night thinking about what happened between us. Replaying every move. Every word. I considered leaving my bed a thousand times, returning to him wearing next to nothing and seducing the fuck out of him. I’m almost certain I would have if he’d been sleeping in the guest room instead of the living room couch where we could be busted by Owen or River.

Dammit. Why couldn’t River have passed out in the recliner so Bram would have been in the guest room? That night would have gone very differently. And we’d be together today instead of not speaking.

I pull into the drive and my heart slams erratically against my inner chest wall when I see Bram’s truck parked in front of my house. Woo. Breathe, girl. In and out. Slow and deep.

Owen’s and River’s trucks are here too. That’s disappointing since I’m certain it means Bram is at my house to see them and not me. I’m nervous as hell but I’ll take seeing Bram any way I can.

I flip my sun visor down and evaluate my appearance. Ratty hair. Oily cheeks. Pale lips. Check, check, and check. Sheez, this isn’t how I want to look when I see Bram again.

I run a brush through the ends of my hair and fluff it at the roots. Not great but it’s the best I can do on the spot. I blot my skin, and apply a fresh coat of gloss. I smack my lips together and recall Bram rubbing his thumb over them when he smeared my lip gloss. Good God, the way he looked at me melted my panties right then and there. That night feels like a million years ago.

I take a deep breath before turning the doorknob. This is Bram. You’ve known him your entire life. Don’t be nervous. He knows you inside and out. He’ll pick up on it.

The boys are in the kitchen stuffing their faces. No surprise there. They invade the pantry every time they come home from school.

“No one touches my Greek yogurt.” Except Bram. He can have anything of mine he wants. That includes me.

“Are you kidding, sis? You seriously think one of us would eat that shit?”

“It’s good, especially with granola and a few dark chocolate chips.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” Owen goes to the pantry door and stares inside as though food is going to magically appear. “I hope Mom goes to the grocery store after work. There ain’t shit in here to eat.”

“Did she know you were coming home?” I sure didn’t.

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t worry about it. She’ll make sure you get everything you want to eat.” Such a mama’s boy.

I glance in Bram’s direction. He’s staring at the label on a bottle of water. Making it a point not to look at me. No surprise there.

“Why did you come home?” If Owen doesn’t have a baseball game, he has practice. Always.

“Had to come back for Hallie and Jacob’s wedding tomorrow. Rehearsal’s tonight.”

“Right. Forgot about that.” Hearing him say Jacob’s name reminds me of my new tutor. “Hey, do you remember Jacob Rial? I think he’s your age.”

“Yeah. Why are you asking? Did you see that asshole’s mugshot on the six o’clock news or something?”

What’s that supposed to mean? “No. I’m having problems in calculus. My teacher suggested I hire him to tutor me.”

“You can forget that shit right now. That fucker isn’t tutoring you in math or anything else.”

Whoa. “Okay, Owen. Calm down.”

“It would be better for you to flunk than be alone with that guy.” River’s opinion of Jacob Rial isn’t any better.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“That asshole has a nasty little habit of getting girls drunk and then fucking them after they pass out. He did it twice that we know of when we were in high school. Got away with it both times because the girls couldn’t remember what happened. That’s why you won’t be hiring him as a tutor.”

My high hopes sink. “Then what am I supposed to do about getting help in calculus? I asked my teacher for help but he told me he doesn’t tutor his own students.”

Owen grasps the back of Bram’s neck and squeezes. “There’s a math genius sitting right here. He can tutor you.”

Bram’s head jolts upward, his jaw fixed, with eyes narrowed on my brother. There’s only one way to interpret what that expression means.

“He has a lot going on with his new job. Plus, it’s tax season. I’m sure he’s tied up and doesn’t have time to mess with me.”

“How ‘bout it, Bram? Can you make time to tutor Claud or does she have to turn to rapist Rial for help?”

Bram’s reply is instant. “No way she’s going anywhere near that piece of shit.”

He may feel inclined to keep me safe, but I doubt he wants to be alone with me again. His reaction to our last encounter told me everything I needed to know. “I’ll be okay. I just need to study harder.”

“Can’t chance it, Claud. Mom and Dad are counting on your getting a scholarship.”

Mom and Dad haven’t said anything, but I know money has been tight since Dad’s heart attack. I’m certain they had to dip into savings to pay the deductibles on the hospital bills. “I know, Owen. I’m doing the best I can.”

“When is your next test, sis?”

“Friday.”

“Can you make time to help Claud this week?” I hate seeing Owen put Bram in this awkward situation.

Bram looks at me and our eyes meet for the first time since that night more than two months ago. What kind of thoughts are going on behind those hazel eyes? “Don’t worry about your grade. You’ll get an A when I’m finished tutoring you.”

My mind is mush. I can’t form words to respond.

“Can you come to my apartment Sunday?”

His apartment? He doesn’t live with his parents anymore? “Sure. What time?”

“Three o’clock okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

I retreat to my room, close the door, and fall face down on the bed, squealing into the pillow. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m going to be alone with him. And I’m going to make the most of it.

He will be mine.