· ·2k milestone is marked in bold.

If she says anonymous biker one more time, I'm gonna lose my shit.

anonymous biker this.

anonymous biker that.

So what if he had the latest Suzuki GSX-8R? So do I. In fact, I have that and four other different brands. But of course, it isn't just the bike. It's his voice, the broad shoulders, how he reminded her of every fictional guy she's obsessed over. Fictional, as in fake—not fucking real.

This guy, though, this biker content creator, is.

I'm not jealous.

I remind myself, grinding my teeth so damn hard, I swear they'll crack any second.

Amoretta—Amie as we call her—is my sister's best friend. Meaning, she's off-limits.

But my gaze drifts toward her anyway. Her words tuned out—but the sweet sound of her voice is like a relaxing hymn. She sits in the booth across from me. Her eyes shine with excitement, face glowing with happiness.

All because of him.

Again, I'm not jealous. Can't be. The annoyance I'm feeling is because she brought up some stranger she doesn't even know, hasn't even talked to, again.

"I don't see the fascination," my sister, Eris, twirls her fork as she sits beside Amie—cheek resting in the palm of her free hand.

"You and your boyfriend ride them."

So do I.

"Correction, I come from a family of riders." Eris straightens up, brushing her black and white dyed hair over her shoulder. "But what I mean is your fascination. He's just some guy."

"Behind a mask, probably miles away, more than likely has a girlfriend. I know."

"Exactly, you can find someone here. There are literally so many single guys on campus who'd already kill for a chance to date you."

Over. My. Dead. Fucking. Body.

Those college guys were boys. Boys who wouldn't walk her to class. Boys who wouldn't send her a good morning, I thought of you, or goodnight. Boys who wouldn't care that her favorite type of romance was dark romance because yeah, there's a big difference. Boys who would only want to fuck her and move on to the next person.

But Amie isn't just some person to pass along. And my sister cares so much more for Amie than to let her wind up with just some college boy.

"They don't catch my interest."

No, because again they are boys. She doesn't want that. She wants one of those boyfriends she reads about—obsessive, possessive, expressive, and in some cases homicidal, but only for the one they love.

I grab my drink, lift it to my lips, and take a long sip.

"Be for real, are you just horny?"

I choke, coughing for some sort of relief. Honestly, what the fuck is my sister doing asking Amie if she's... I shake the thought from my head, fisting the fabric of my dress pants. "Eris."

"What? It's an honest question. People get fixated on things when they're horny."

"I don't need to know this shit. Especially don't want to hear that word coming from your mouth."

"Oh my god, Ev. I'm not a baby. You do know me and Keegan have sex, right?"

Unfortunately. She doesn't need to remind me she's dating my top security guard. I don't want to know what else they probably did behind closed doors. That was for them to know and for me to never hear or find out about.

"And off topic, but aren't you supposed to be heading back to work soon?"

I shrug my shoulders.

Technically, yes. Does it matter what time I get back to managing my dad's real estate company? No. Besides, the only thing I had on my schedule was a meeting at Aether Tower with a potential tenant.

I pick a fry off my plate and toss it at her, watching as it hits her arm. "Valente Real Estates group can wait."

"Sometimes I forget you two are rich," Amie breathes out.

Sometimes I do too.

My sister, on the other hand, seems to have forgotten about it completely. Walking around without any means of security like she's just some regular college student and not a billionaire heiress. She might not want the title, but it's a fact nonetheless. She comes from money—meaning she's at risk of being in danger.

"Shit!" My gaze darts to Amie, eyes wide as she looks down at her phone. "I'm late for my class."

She fumbled with the bag beside her against the wall, placing her current read back inside.

"Then skip it." Eris grasps the fry I threw and plucks it into her mouth.

"I can't. Not everyone can be a billionaire."

"Technically that's my dad and Ev."

I roll my eyes. Again, it's like she doesn't even want the title though I'm sure she just wants to find her own passion, not follow in our dad's footsteps like I'm doing.

"You know what I mean. Tuition doesn't pay for itself."

"No, but I could," Eris points out, bringing life to the words also in my head.

"And I appreciate you, but what I'd appreciate more is if you got your fat ass out of the booth so I can go." Amie chuckled, the sound warming even the deepest parts of my bones. She shoves my sister's shoulder—to no avail. A pout soon comes to her lips, along with those round hazel puppy dog eyes—shimmering like the sun through a deserted green forest.

Eris caves with an eye roll, and slides out of the booth. "Fine, but only because I have to get back to work," she says and lets out a sigh. "Lunch break over."

Meaning this entire conversation is finally over.

I clean up the table, stacking all of our trash onto the tray. Amie's gaze caresses me like a gentle feather along my cheek.

"I would have cleaned my stuff."

"It's no big deal," I say, climbing out of the booth and grabbing the tray. We all head for the door. I dump the trash into the nearest trash bin, placing the tray on the shelf above.

Eris and Amie go on again, this time about little things like the bookstore they both work at. One of their co-workers, apparently, put a spicy book in the Christian section by mistake.

I don't make any indication I'm listening—or that I find it fucking hilarious that it happened. No, instead I stroll out of the diner with them, hands in my pockets.

"I'll see you at home later?" Eris asks, turning to Amie.

Amie hums, giving her a nod. "I'll be done before the end of your shift."

"Cool, that means we can walk home together."

The two share a hug—which is unusual for Eris, if it wasn't Amie. They've known each other since they started at Lovecrest University, and have been best friends ever since, nearly inseparable.

Eris pulls away first and turns to me. Gray almond eyes matching my own narrow. Her finger jabs into my chest, nail poking me ever so slightly. "Try not to kill anyone today."

A hefty laugh spills from my mouth. "I could say the same to you."

"But you won't."

"Because Key will make sure to hold you back." Hell, Keegan would punch their lights out while holding my sister back with the other. No one fucks with his girlfriend. And even though Eris is more than capable of handling shit on her own, I'm glad she doesn't have to. That someone, other than me, can physically have her back.

"Yeah, yeah." Eris heads for the crosswalk, giving a wave.

My attention swivels back to Amie, already turning on her heels. "Let me take you."

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows furrowing. "It's not that far, besides, you have to get going anyway, right?"

I do. Letting my sister walk to work on her own is one thing. The place is literally within eyesight. And Keegan has one of his teammates trailing her. I caught him earlier, sitting on a beach nearby before I entered the diner. Most of the security personnel like to keep a low profile, especially when they're tailing my sister since she's the troublemaker.

"Yeah, but it's on the way," I lie. In fact, it's in the opposite direction, but a little time to make sure she got onto campus safely wouldn't hurt.

Amie sizes me up. Slowly dragging her gaze up and down my three-piece suit—probably contemplating if she wants to deal with my usual stubbornness when she declines my help.

You're only protective of her because she's my favorite person.

My sister's words ring in the back of my head, bringing on an onslaught of guilt. It might have started out that way, but over the years—getting to see Amie's smile, hearing her laughter, smelling that intoxicating perfume she wore, spending time together with my sister around, and getting to really know her—it became more.

And I'm not too proud to shove the reality of the situation down. I know what it means. How I feel. But the truth of the matter is Amie's my sister's best friend. The only genuine friend she's ever had, and to take that away—over some feelings—would have been cruel.

Which is why I let the next words slip past my lips. "You can tell me more about this content creator you like so much."

"So you can roll your eyes and huff the entire time?" Amie crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side with a smirk.

Damn, she's cute. It's my turn to admire her. The way her braided pigtails drape over her shoulders. The white floral sundress hugging her curves in all the right places. The glow of her smooth sun-kissed skin.

My legs ache to close the distance between us, to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her tiny frame to mine. But I push down the urge strangling at my chest.

"It distracts me from work," I tell her and step beside her—hardly soothing the need to be closer to her.

"Alright," she huffs. "But if I hear you groaning, I'm shutting up."

I chuckle. If hearing her voice is the price for not groaning to her raving on about some guy, I'll take it. A billion times over.

"Okay so, I've been contemplating on writing to him. You know like comment on one of his videos or even liking them."

"In other words you stalk him," I point out, keeping my attention ahead of us and making sure we, and by we, I mean she doesn't accidentally bump into someone.

"I don't." Her warm gaze snaps to the side of my face. I feel it, but I don't look over.

"You watch his videos but don't engage or give any hints you're around. That's called stalking."

"Whatever, I stalk him," she mocks. "Other girls comment on his videos and I don't want to be just one of those nameless behind-the-screen people."

"You want him to notice you."

"Yeah... if I commented."

"Does he respond back to them?" I ask. Many do, that's how engagement happens. People like, follow, and comment—basic shit.

"Not always. He mostly likes the comments."

My eyebrows furrow. A sudden question popping into my head. "You keep saying he, but how do you know for sure it's a guy?"

"His pronouns are on his profile."

Anyone could lie.

"He also talks in some of his videos."

Voice modules are a thing.

"So, I know Eros—"

"Eros?" I choke out. Who the fuck would purposely name themselves after the God of love and desire? I sure as shit didn't pick that name out for myself, but that's what I get for having a mom who loved Greek mythology. Didn't help that she married my dad who's half Italian, half Greek. So, naturally, she named her first born son after the God of love and desire and then named her daughter after the goddess of chaos.

"Yeah, Eros. He's a guy. Not a female."

I inhale a deep breath and hold it in for a few seconds so I don't put my hands on her shoulder and shake her like I want to. Not that I would, I just need to keep myself composed.

Because honestly what the actual fuck is wrong with her?

An online persona is fucking dangerous. Who knows what would happen? For all she knew, he reached out privately to those women and preyed on them.

But her crush on this content creator won't go away unless she realizes it's one hundred percent impossible or that he's a creep. She'll keep swooning and talking about this guy forever if someone doesn't put a stop to it.

"Look, how about I message him. Make sure he's legit and if he is, I'll talk to him for you."

"Really?" she asks, stopping in her tracks.

I turn to her. Those hazel eyes staring up at me like I just saved her damn life or gave her an entire library—I could.

I'd do anything for her. Even talk to this content creator she's obsessing over. "Yeah. Just text me his link."

Her arms wrap around me suddenly—freezing me in place. Her body flushes against mine—so warm, so soft. The scent of wild berries and blooming daisies burns into my senses, melting my arms from their rigid state. They wrap around her, dragging her body closer to mine.

"Thank you, thank you, you really don't have to."

"But you want me too."

And that's the only reason why I'll do it.

Her hold loosens first and mine follows soon after. She takes a small step back, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You should go."

I clear my throat and mind, ignoring the burning desire spreading throughout my body. Ignoring my heart picking up double time. I tear my gaze from her and look out to the campus just a couple of steps away. "Don't forget to send me his link."

She nods, giving me a sweet smile as she walks backward toward the campus. "I'll do that now."

Amie turns, giving me the perfect view of her ass in that dress. The breeze easily brushes through it. How it'd only take a big gust of wind to have it flying up, exposing what no man deserves to see. Not even me. I swallow hard, biting down on my lip. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out—opening her text—and click on the link.

The page loads and my eyebrows furrow as I scan the profile.

RidewithEros.

It can't fucking be.

There's no way.

I close the app and click the link in her message again because there has to be some fucking mistake.

But as the page loads once more, I stare back at the profile—a knot forming in my stomach.

This can't be fucking real. My gaze lingers on the name, finger moving slowly as I scroll through the profile.

My own profile.

· · · ·

a/n

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