Page 1 of After All This Time

Chapter 1

Amelia

"Iknow you hate moving, but if you're going to be here, could you please help me carry this shit?" I shift the weight of two overstuffed duffel bags and glare at Tobias as he casually strolls through our apartment.

"I am helping. If it weren't for me, it would still be sitting down there in the moving van," Tobias remarks as he points out the window.

With an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, he steps toward me, holding the smallest box he could find labeledbedroom.

I quickly drop the two bags of clothes I've been hauling and snatch the box from his grasp before he can even open his mouth.

I swear, if he ever opens this box, I'll end him so thoroughly they'll need dental records to piece together what's left.

"What's up your ass?"

"Nothing, but could you please grab something that weighs more than your ego?"

I don’t even bother looking back as I head toward my bedroom, but I definitely catch the "Wow" he lets out, paired with a chuckle, as he trails after me down the hallway.

I step into my personal cotton-candy hell and drop to my knees beside the bed. My "self-care"box—the one containing things I would rather burn than have Tobias find—gets shoved under the bed with more force than necessary. Vibrators, lingerie, and every other indulgence that screamskeep out or lose your ballsare now tucked safely away from his reach.

"Where do you want this?"he mumbles, his voice muffled where his cigarette still hangs between his lips.

"Just at the end of the bed, please."

Tobias lowers the heavy box of my dance books to the floor, his hands resting on his hips as he catches his breath.

"Too heavy for you?" I tease, my gaze drifting to the cigarette now tucked behind his left ear.

"You wanna move the rest in here yourself, Firefly?"

It's not that I'm weak. My core strength and legs could easily take him down—thank you, years of dance—but my arms? Not so much.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he adds as he walks out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, my bedroom looks like a hoarder's wet dream. There are piles of random crap everywhere, and I'm convinced half of it spawned out of thin air because I sure as hell don't remember packing all of this.

"Right," Tobias says from the doorway, leaning against the frame like he walked straight out of a smutty book. "Do you need me for anything else?"

"How do you feel about unpacking?" I ask, half-hoping he might actually stay and help but fully aware there's zero chance of that happening.

"Fuck no, I’m out," he says, pushing off the doorframe and disappearing out of the apartment.

Asshole—good thing he’s pretty.

Tobias and I first met when his dad started dating my mom. She was David's secretary once upon a time—yeah, shady as shit—and their relationship was definitely going on for much longer than either of them has ever admitted.

Three months after they stopped pretending they weren't already sleeping together, Mom and I moved into their palace. Okay, so it's not a palace, but we went from a modest two-bedroom house to this enormous, hallmark-worthy mansion I didn't think I would ever get used to.

Admittedly, I got used to it; anyone would, and if they told you they hated living in luxury, they would be lying.

I was almost fourteen when we met, and I was instantly hit with a weird little flutter in my chest. However, as the years rolled by, the undeniable and extremely inconvenient physical attraction toward him never went away.

But I guess some attractions aren't a choice; they're your body betraying your mind and ignoring you no matter how many times you remind yourself you're technically family.

Being into Tobias before he hit six-foot-something and covered himself in ink isn't a thread I enjoy pulling at, so I've always just blamed it on teenage hormones and the awkwardness of not being entirely comfortable in my own skin. But honestly, I've been fighting against my morals for years, torn between this dumb crush and what I know to be right and wrong, and it is wrong to look at Tobias like he's anything but my stepfather's son.

But what can I say? I'm a slut for blue eyes and tattoos.

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