Maybe having shitty parents—okay, so Kayla's not exactly my father-level of fucked up—had something to do with keeping both Amelia and me from turning into entitled little shitbags. Or maybe it was because we were all each other had through the mess of our teenage years. I swear, having her in that big, lonely house saved me in ways I don't think she'll ever understand.
We've known each other since we were kids, but the connection we share has never been the kind that fits neatly into the typical sibling dynamic. We didn't grow up side by side from the beginning, arguing over who got the last slice of cake or whose turn it was to control the remote. What we built was something else entirely. It wasn't forced or dictated by blood or obligation. It was a choice to have each other's backs, no matter what.
If she ever needed me, I'd be there for her in the same way I would for any of my closest friends, but with her, it's more. It's instinct. She's the one person I'd show up for, no questions asked. Always.
"Mills?" I call out as I reach her bedroom.
No answer.
The sound of running water fills my ears as I slowly open the door and peer into the room. Steam rises from the en suite bathroom, and when I lightly tap my knuckles on the door, I hear her turn off the shower.
"That you, Tobias? Better be, or I'm going to kick whoever's ass it is who's in my room."
"It's me, crazy," I call out, laughing because I'm fully aware that she means every word she says.
"What's up?"
"I've got pizza."
"Cheese?"
"Obviously."
"Okay, give me five minutes."
Five minutes, my ass.
Almost fifteen minutes later, she strolls down the hallway wearing a black tank and matching shorts, her hair damp and her skin slightly flushed from the shower.
Why do women always have their water so fucking hot?
"You're lucky there's any food left, given how long you took."
"You didn't have to wait for me," she says as I head into the kitchen, with her following close behind.
"The last time I ate pizza without you, I almost got slapped for not letting you pick not only the biggest piece but also the one with the most cheese."
I lift the lid, and Amelia sidles up beside me, her tiny, five-foot-nothing frame slipping effortlessly into my space. She stands in front of the open box, her head barely reaching my chest as I tower over her, breathing in the sweet smell of coconut that drifts up from her hair.
I reach out and grab her head, pulling her close until my nose is buried in her hair. I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent and threading my fingers through the strands. She giggles as she half-heartedly pushes against my chest, but I refuse to budge.
"What the hell are you doing?" she says while staying still in my hold.
"Your shampoo smells good."
"So you're just sniffing me now?"
I've always been a touchy person. My hands seem to move with a mind of their own, reaching out without thinking, and sometimes, I forget that not everyone is comfortable with that. But Amelia is different. She's known me long enough tounderstand that my need for physical touch is just another language we share.
"Just making sure I really like it before I borrow it."
"Keep your ass out of my bathroom, or I'll scrub your toilet with your toothbrush."
I release her with a laugh and return my attention to the pizza box in front of us. "Seriously, the day you clean a bathroom is the day I give up women."
"I am more than capable of cleaning," she says, staring up at me with a glimmer of irritation in her dark-brown eyes.
"Also, do I get to look forward to that?" she asks, sweeping her hand around the room. "To multiple women being here?"