After another shitty day at the Philadelphia Inquirer, I come home to my apartment that smells like a Chinese restaurant. My stomach growls from the scent of General Tso’s chicken rising from the ground floor. I reach into my bag, pull out three dollars, and sigh when I realize I can’t even afford dinner. At least payday is on Friday.

I lean against the wall by the front door and strip off my lace-up canvas boots. Starting at my knees, I tug at the fabric until each row finally gives, relieving me of the pressure. For the past eight hours, I stood behind the counter at Liberty Records, counting down the seconds before I could escape.

As an investigative journalist in training, I have been looking for my big break, the one story that will propel my career. I followed a tip from a trusted source about a drug dealer that peddles heroin through the store. But my lead either dried up or the dealer was suspicious about a new girl working the counter.

Who sells drugs out of a record store? That was my boss’ first question when I’d pitched the idea to him. What a waste of a day. I could have worked freelance to earn some extra cash. Instead, I ate Cheetos and drank stale coffee while I listened to vinyl records and pretended to blend in with the staff.

Exhausted, I stagger into the kitchen and open the freezer. Given my lack of choices, I remove the bottle of vodka and a TV dinner and set them on the counter. If I’m lucky, I will make it until the end of the week without having to bum some cash from my parents. The thought makes me cringe.

As I shut the freezer door, an unwelcome banging on the floor below causes me to jump. Living in the city, with all the car horns and noises, takes some getting used to. My parents moved to Arizona for retirement, leaving my brother and me behind. I rented this shithole in hopes it would be a temporary situation. That was two years ago.

Still startled and on edge, I yelp when my cell phone rings. I pull the phone from my pocket and check the Caller ID. It’s my older brother.

“What do you want?”

“Hey, baby sis,” Will yells into the phone, slurring his words. “Is that any way to talk to the person who helped you with your homework when you were a kid?”

I laugh. “I wouldn’t gloat for too long. Look how far that got me.” The sounds of rap music assault my eardrum, making it harder to hear Will over the people screaming around him. “Where are you?” I shout over the noise.

A beat passes between us where I listen to the song change over before Will speaks again. “I need to stay with you for a while. My apartment flooded, and now, I’m homeless until the condo association fixes the damage. I was able to grab a bag of clothes and get out before part of the ceiling collapsed.”

“You’re messing with me, right?” This sounds like one of the many stories Will has told me over the years to screw with me. He says I will fall for anything. And Will loves to exploit my weakness.

“No, not this time. The old lady upstairs fell asleep in her tub with the water running. I wasn’t home when it happened. Not like it would have made a difference. Can I come stay or what?”

With our parents over two thousand miles away, what choice do I have?

“Yeah, I guess so. When are you coming over?”

“I’m at McFadden’s for happy hour.”

“Get your ass here before I go to bed. I had the day from hell, and I am not staying up all night waiting around for your drunk ass.”

“Whatever you say, Boss. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

After I hang up, it hits me that Will said we, as in he plans to bring someone to my apartment. That shit won’t fly with me. I agreed to let my brother stay here, not one of his one-night stands. While I have two bedrooms, they are tiny and barely enough space for me. Will can forget about me doing his dirty work for him in the morning.

* * *

A few hours pass before a knock at the door pulls me from my nap on the couch. I glance at the digital clock on the end table and sigh. As usual, Will did not keep his promise. He would be late for his funeral.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stagger toward the front door in pink polka dot pajamas and slippers. I gasp at the sight of Ethan Waters standing next to my brother. He left me ten years ago. Then, he showed up five years later as if nothing had happened. Not even an explanation. He was cocky and arrogant and nothing like the boy I once knew. I hate him now. The sight of him alone makes my skin burn with anger.

Ever since I moved out of my parent’s house, I have avoided Ethan at all costs. On occasion, he would stop over with Will when they weren’t on the road with their team. Distance and time are what I’d needed from Ethan. Now, this fucker is standing on my doorstep, expecting a place to sleep off his hangover. I don’t think so.

I point at Ethan while speaking to Will. “What is he doing here? I said you could come—not this idiot.”

“Let me in, you pirate hooker,” Ethan slurs, as he pushes past me to get inside. He stumbles, tripping over his feet, and somehow regains his balance.

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” I yell at him. My face twists in disgust. “Of all the people to show up with Will, it had to be you. I would have preferred one of his puck bunnies.”

“Don’t get your panties twisted,” he hisses, with one eye open. “Or I’ll have to rip them off you.” He walks away from me and into the kitchen, so of course, I follow behind Ethan.

“Gross,” I shout. “Like I would let you touch me. Who knows what disease-ridden skanks you were hanging out with tonight.”

“Can you two get along for five minutes?” Will says from behind me. “This situation sucks, but we have to make the best of it.”

I narrow my eyes at Will. “Wait, you think this jerk is staying here?”

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

“He has a credit card and a contract from the Flyers. I should be staying with one of you, not the other way around. I agreed to let you sleep here, Will, not the manwhore of Philadelphia. I might contract something if he stays with us. God knows where he has been.”

Is my brother any better? Not really. In fact, he might even be worse than Ethan. More often than not, Will lands on the pages of my newspaper with a girl on his arm.

Ethan stalks toward me. “You wish you could have me, Princess. Bitter isn’t a good look for you.”

“I hate you,” I scream, not realizing my anger.

“No, you don’t.” Ethan throws his hands onto his hips, drawing my attention to his thick chest and muscular arms.

Why does someone so attractive have to be so damn annoying? After all the years of me hating Ethan and him being a dick in return, I cannot stand the sight of Ethan fucking Waters. He knows he’s God’s gift to women. And he is, which makes me hate him even more. Fucker.

Will and Ethan raid my fridge for a few minutes before they realize I have nothing to offer.

“Speaking of credit cards,” Will says, “why don’t you use yours to buy some food?”

“Because I have school loans, rent, a car payment, and a no money left on my credit card. If you two are going to stay here, you can at least buy food. I can’t afford to take care of you.”

“We will get you some food tomorrow,” Will mumbles. “I hate to see you living like this. Why didn’t you say something, Mia?”

“Food would be great. Enough about my living situation, Will. I don’t need another brotherly lecture.”

Will reaches for the bottle of vodka in my freezer, but I steal it away from him.

“You’ve had enough to drink tonight.” I tuck the bottle back in place and shut the freezer door. “I made up the bed for you in the guest room. Why don’t you get some sleep? I have to get up early for work.”

“Me, too,” Will slurs, holding on to me for support.

I stare at him, confused. His season ended last week. Damn, he’s drunk.

Leaving Ethan in the kitchen, I escort Will into the bedroom. The room is small, not much larger than a decently sized walk-in-closet. Will stumbles into the dark room and walks into the metal bed frame, hitting his shin hard.

“Fuck,” he yells and falls onto the mattress, grabbing his leg with both hands.

I sit down next to him and turn on the bedside lamp. The dim light casts a shadow on his face. We look nothing alike. My brother has our father’s chestnut colored hair and hazel irises, while I have our mother’s dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes.

“Do you want me to grab you a glass of water and some Tylenol?”

He shakes his head and sinks into the pillow, staring up at me with one eye open. “No, I’m good. Goodnight, baby sis.”

I strip off his shoes, throw them onto the floor, and push myself up from the bed. “Night, big bro.”

Will is snoring by the time I close the door behind me. For a few seconds, I forget what awaits me in the kitchen. Until I find Ethan, sitting on the counter, pounding the bottle of vodka I took from Will. Asshole.

Ethan holds it up to his lips and winks at me. He drinks most of the remaining liquid just to spite me.

“Hand it over,” I hold out my palm and wait for him to give it to me.

He takes one more sip, before he places the bottle in my hand, squeezing my fingers around it along with his. A chill runs through me from the cold bottle and the effect Ethan’s touch has on me. We always had chemistry, so it’s no surprise that being this close to him stirs up feelings from the past. Those emotions last for all of three seconds before I remember what he did to me. I recall how much I hate him and turn away from him.

When Ethan slides off the counter, he falls into me, knocking into my shoulder. I stumble for a second and use the refrigerator handle for support.

“Time for you to go to bed,” I tell Ethan.

“Yes, Mommy,” he says, breathing vodka in my face. “Are you going to tuck me in too?”

I snort. “In your dreams, buddy.”

He hooks his arm around my back, and his hand grazes my left breast.

“Don’t be a pig, Ethan.”

Oblivious to his groping of my tit, he mutters, “What are you bitching about now?”

He’s trashed, far worse than when he used to sleep over our house in high school. Ethan was never mean to me when I was in middle school. Our relationship was special, something I had treasured. Until he left me without saying goodbye. He was a different person when he came back from Boston.

I have to hold on to the divider that separates the living room and kitchen to get Ethan over to the couch without knocking the pictures off the wall. We almost take out the flat screen television on top of the oak chest my parents had given me when they moved.

Somehow, I manage to get Ethan over to the sofa without falling on the floor, with my arm around his back and his weight pushing down on me. But not without him taking me with him. I am about to dump him on the cushion when his foot tangles with mine, tripping me in the process. We fall sideways onto a stack of pillows. He’s two hundred twenty pounds of solid muscle, toned to perfection, and draped over me like a heavy blanket.

The heat from his body makes me crave the closeness. I am all too aware of the response he has over me. My nipples harden from his breath on my neck and the connection we share. I missed Ethan when he was in Boston, but that man is long gone. In place of the boy I fell in love with, I got a hockey star—and an arrogant one at that.

Ethan nestles his face into my neck, his lips grazing my skin. His kisses send chills down my spine. Is he too drunk to realize he’s kissing me? Why do I like it? Ugh, I can’t go from hating to liking Ethan all over again. That ship has sailed. But he’s drunk and making me horny. Not a good combination for either of us.

Will is in the other room, I remind myself because I need to stay focused.

Ethan perks up, taking in his surroundings with one eye open. As if we are still kids, I place my hand on his knee. Why does everything feel so natural with Ethan? I shake the thought from my mind, but the nagging in the back of my mind won’t go away. My feelings for Ethan never dissipated. The love I once felt mostly turned to hate, and on occasion, those emotions turn to lust. And I hate myself for thinking of Ethan in that way.

He sensually runs his calloused fingers down my forearm, causing the tiny hairs to stand at attention. Even in his drunken state, Ethan knows exactly what he’s doing. Everywhere our skin meets leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

I want to throw him off me, but instead, I allow him to massage me. We don’t speak or make eye contact. The Ethan I once knew is in there somewhere, hidden by the new version that I loathe.

“Your skin is soft, like a baby,” he whispers. “I could touch you all night, my little lamb.”

I raise a curious eyebrow, surprised that he’s not calling me a pirate hooker or one of his many nicknames. Instead, I get the one I know and love. Little lamb. My two favorite words.

“You are only saying that because you are drunk. Don’t think I will forget about you bailing on me.”

He sighs and leans back against the couch pillow, still rubbing my skin. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not what you think. No matter how many times I tell you that you don’t believe me.”

“Then tell me why you left.”

He moves his hand to the sofa, and I already miss his touch. “Forget it, just go to bed, Mia.”

Ethan pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. I lick my lips at the sight of his muscular chest and abs that make me want to bounce quarters off them.

He rolls onto his back and looks up at me. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun every once in a while. Stop being such a pain in the ass.”

“I wish I could, Ethan, but I have to work hard if I want to get anywhere. I’m not as naturally gifted and wonderful as you, Mr. Perfect.”

“I am not perfect, far from it,” he growls. “Stop pretending like you know me because you don’t. You don’t know shit about me…” His voice sounds sad before he trails off. “No one does. Not anymore, anyway.”

I suck in a deep breath and blow it out, frustrated and somewhat upset by our exchange. “You have one chance. That’s it. Continue being a jerk and you will have to find somewhere else to crash. I don’t even know why either of you would want to stay with me when you can both afford to stay in a hotel. I’m sure your insurance policy will pay for it.”

He sighs but doesn’t respond, hopefully letting it sink in, though I am sure he is too drunk to absorb anything I am telling him.

Will and Ethan both play hockey for the Philadelphia Flyers. They can afford to stay somewhere else, yet they chose to live with me. How will I make it through another night with Ethan in my apartment? All the old feelings come rushing back every time Ethan is near, consuming me, driving me insane.

After a long and awkward pause, Ethan clutches my waist and pulls me onto his chest. I try to break free from his grasp, but my desire to fight him only causes him to tug harder at my shirt. He pulls me onto his bare chest and turns me over so that half of my body is on top of his.

“What are you doing, Ethan?”

With my head next to his, our mouths only inches apart, his glassy green eyes meet mine. I wish I could find the courage to pull away from him. He makes me weak. Being this close, I want to kiss Ethan, find some form of comfort in him even if it’s only for one kiss. He’s a handsome mess and probably too drunk to remember anything tomorrow.

Ethan raises his fingers to my cheek and begins to cup my face with his big hand. “You’re beautiful, Mia,” he whispers, his voice low and sensual. “Too bad you still hate me.”

I don’t respond to his comment because it’s probably for the best.

He props his head on a stack of pillows and looks over at me, his eyes slowly closing. “Stay with me.”

Ethan moves around to get comfortable, giving me some room. He’s in such good shape, not an ounce of fat on him that he makes me feel subconscious in my pajamas. Distracted by his abs, I stop for a second to take in the sight of him. I stare for far too long and have to remind myself not to gape at his pelvic muscle or think about what he must look like naked.

“Ethan, I want to sleep in my bed.” I lift his heavy arm off me.

His eyes shut, fluttering as if fighting sleep. A few minutes pass where I listen to him breathe before I give in to him. I can sleep next to Ethan tonight. I won’t fall for him again.

Every part of me craves his touch, wants to know what it’s like to be one of Ethan Waters’ puck bunnies, but my brother would murder us. Who would Will kill first? I cannot cross that line with Ethan. But I want to every time I am around him.

My hatred for Ethan only fuels the sexual tension between us. Will picks up on it, too, most of the time having to get between us. Good thing I only see my brother once a month. Ethan doesn’t usually come with the package. I purposely plan my trips to the luxury apartment they share on the Camden Waterfront around Ethan’s schedule.

My eyelids begin to droop, and the stress of my new living situation and the fact that it’s now three a.m. are coaxing me into a trance. I need sleep. Without thinking too long about it, I close my eyes and press my palm to Ethan’s chest, cocooning myself in his warmth.

Overcome with exhaustion, I tell myself not to dwell on Ethan and the past. No longer denying the affection I have for Ethan, I fall asleep to the sound of him breathing in my ear, wondering what my brother will think if he finds us together.