My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 218: The Place It All Began

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Lunch with Gigi and Skylar usually felt like a safe haven...loud and chaotic, filled with overlapping stories and dramatic eye rolls that made the school day more bearable.

But today, I found myself at our usual corner table, just picking at my turkey sandwich while their chatter faded into the background, kind of like noise in a coffee shop.

Skylar was animatedly recounting the latest rehearsal mishap from her band for the upcoming winter ball, something about the drummer knocking over a cymbal stand that crashed into the keyboardist’s amp...while Gigi chimed in with sound effects and exaggerated gasps right on cue.

I nodded along, giving the proper "oh no" and "seriously?" expressions, but my laptop was open in front of me, angled just so they couldn’t see what I was really focused on.

And what I was really focused on was doing some deep digging into one Logan Seymour, a failed lawyer turned possible accessory to... well, something really bad.

The more I read, the more questions piled up like a backlog of freaking unread emails. Logan had graduated from Everhart University, an old-money, ivy-covered school, with honors, touted as a prodigy in family law. Articles from ten years ago praised the

"Seymour son breaking tradition" by choosing courtrooms over family dealerships. But then came a series of lost cases, settlements that looked suspiciously like hush money, and finally a quiet return to the family dealership when his brother handed him the reins for a year.

If he was such a damn flop, why did Joanne pick him? She had serious money...real money. She could’ve hired the best lawyer in the state. Instead, she chose the guy Rachel knew from online dating. Was it loyalty to a friend’s recommendation? Desperation? Or something else entirely?

I flipped through old photos: Logan at charity galas, shaking hands with politicians, accepting a "Business Leader of the Year" award right after Joanne passed.

He had the same sharp jaw and cold smile in every picture, like he’d practiced it in front of the mirror until it was just right.

He also had a very punchable face, but let’s not get into how much I wanted to see his face bruised up like he did to Ethan’s.

And under all the questions about Joanne, another kept creeping in: if Logan was really involved in something terrible, did that mean Ethan might finally be free from the uncle who’d hurt him if we managed to find out and prove it?

That thought made my chest ache in a complicated way I didn’t have the energy to sort through right then.

"Noah. Earth to Noah."

Gigi’s voice broke through my thoughts, louder this time, and I jolted so hard my knee hit the table’s underside. My laptop wobbled dangerously.

"Ow—sorry!" I rubbed my knee, quickly closing a few tabs. "What? I’m here."

Gigi gave me that look...the one that said he’d been reading my mood like a book since middle school. "You’ve been staring at your screen like it owes you money for, like, ten minutes. Everything okay, dude?"

Skylar leaned in, his fries forgotten. "Yeah, you’ve been super quiet lately. Secretive, even. Spill them beans, now."

I forced what I hoped was a convincing smile, bright and breezy. "Everything’s fine. Just...I’m just busy. You know, catching up after missing two days, college apps looming, the usual existential dread."

Skylar’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Uh-huh. And the fact that you and Ethan haven’t been attached at the hip for weeks...that’s also just ’busy’?"

I winced internally. Of course they’d noticed.

"We’re good," I replied a little too quickly. "Just... giving each other space. No big fight or anything."

Gigi didn’t seem convinced, but he let it drop with a soft, "Okay... but we’re here if you need us."

Lunch was almost over anyway, the cafeteria was thinning out, trays clattering as people headed to class. I stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I’ve got a free period after this. I’ll catch you guys later?"

They exchanged another one of those loaded best-friend glances but nodded.

"Yeah," Skylar said. "Later, space cadet."

I waved goodbye and made my way through the crowded halls toward the library, where Ethan was waiting.

My stomach did a nervous flip. I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but I had a pretty good idea it wouldn’t be light.

I pushed open the heavy doors of the library and stepped into that familiar hush that only exists in places filled with books and lingering guilt.

Brookstone High’s library was a grand, old space that felt like it had been around forever...tall oak shelves reaching up toward a high ceiling, long tables with warm green banker lamps glowing softly, and rows of windows looking out over a courtyard dusted with snow.

The air was filled with the scents of paper, dust, and the faint hint of vanilla from someone’s neglected candle. Most tables were empty during this period; just a few students were huddled over their textbooks or laptops, heads down, earbuds in. The silence was so thick you could almost hear the sound of pages turning.

It was the place Ethan and I had gotten closer on our little literature project.

The place I realized I wasn’t completely invisible to a guy like him.

Damn it had been a while since I’d been here, wasn’t it funny how back then I spent almost every single school day here.

But now, with everything going on...I barely had time to sit here and read my novelkisss and books anymore

I picked a table near the back by the windows, dropping my bag onto the chair beside me like it was a shield. Sunlight streamed through the glass, turning floating dust motes into tiny golden dancers. I watched them for a moment while my stomach flipped with nerves.

What were Ethan and I going to talk about? The break? The fact that I’d been MIA for two days? Or worse, would he ask if there was someone else? And if he did, what could I possibly say that wouldn’t make me feel like the worst person ever?

Outside, students rushed between buildings, scarves trailing behind them, breath fogging up in little clouds. I rested my chin on my hand, trying not to fidget too much.

Then I heard footsteps...soft and deliberate and the chair across from me scraped as someone sat down.

I looked up. It was Ethan.

He looked... good. Like, too good. That navy sweater made his eyes look even bluer, his blond hair was slightly windswept from the cold, and that easy half-smile of his used to make my knees weak for all the right reasons, but now it made them weak for different, guiltier ones.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft but warm.

"Hi," I replied, matching his tone. My throat felt suddenly parched.

We held each other’s gaze just a beat too long, the awkwardness hanging between us like an uninvited guest at the table.