Did I Mention I Love You? (Did I Mention I Love You (DIMILY) Book 1)

The strained silence that lasts for the longest of moments is interrupted by the sound of fireworks. The sky outside the window erupts into a vivid canvas of colors and swirls. Both Tyler and I tilt our heads to see, and the lights reflect off our skin, the side of his cheeks glowing a soft orange, which soon fades away as the colors drain from the sky. They are quickly replaced with more, but Tyler has already turned away from the window. Instead, he focuses on the color of my eyes rather than the color of the fireworks.

“Interesting?” he repeats, his voice dry. “That’s all you can say?”

The sky crackles and pops and hoots while the celebrating crowd below cheer, their tilted faces illuminated. The entire field is visible from up here, up in this out-of-bounds hallway. “We’re missing the fireworks,” I murmur weakly. I sound pathetic and I’m aware of it. Nothing will ease the frantic throbbing of my heart.

“I don’t care about the fireworks,” he snaps. His voice is low, but it rises as his bitter hostility toward me grows. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Interesting?”

I don’t know why he’s so offended by the word. Interesting is good, interesting means different. I’ve never come across a person who has grabbed my interest like he has.

“Your walls,” I say, my voice wavering. I bite the inside of my cheek and gnaw at my mouth as I try to steady my tone, to compose myself so that I can muster up coherent sentences. “Your walls interest me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he splutters, his Adam’s apple rising in his throat. Something shifts within the flashing of his eyes. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“I didn’t realize it until now,” I state quietly. With a soft shake of my head, my eyes drop to the floor and then back to his. “You’ve got walls up and they interest me.”

“You know what?” he hisses. His lower lip juts out as his chiseled jaw clenches. “I don’t care. Think whatever you want about me.”

“Think whatever I want?” My eyes narrow into tiny slits as I hold my stare, yet he struggles to hold his. He keeps glancing erratically off to the sides, to the floor, to the ceiling. But never back to me. “I think that you infuriate me,” I say. “I think that you are an arrogant jackass who can never simply be nice to someone, because it doesn’t fit in with the act you’re putting on.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly squeezed shut as he takes a few deep breaths. I watch his chest rise as the air enters his abused lungs. The smoking isn’t good for him. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Let me finish,” I order sharply. The anxiousness has faded, replaced with confidence fueled by adrenaline. “I also think that you’re a jerk. Your ego is too big for your own head and you think that you look cool by being a badass. But really, Tyler? You just look pathetic.”

Tyler’s face falls, his taut expression crumpling as his lips twitch slightly. “Alright, now I just look like a complete moron coming up here and telling you that I’m attracted to you. You could’ve let me down easier.”

“I thought someone as badass as you could handle it.”

He stuffs his curled-up fists into the pockets of his jeans and averts his gaze to the windows. For a short while, he just stares at the sky with a sad look in his eyes. In between the explosive noise of the fireworks, I can hear his breathing deepening. He blinks and glances over his shoulder at me. “And I thought you’d figured out that I’m not really a badass.”

The moment the final syllable rolls off the tip of his tongue, my entire mindset transforms. He’s vulnerable, and I am completely right. His walls are a mask. It’s all an act, a role he’s trying to play. The crude comments and leching over Tiffani and the addictions: They’re fake. It’s all fake. There’s more to him. Like today in the kitchen with Ella. He wasn’t a badass then, and he wasn’t a badass when he was joking with Jamie. Sometimes his façade slips. And sometimes I’ve been there to see beneath it.

It’s the way his eyes sometimes soften, offering a true glimpse of what he’s about to anyone who is willing to look. And I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me until this moment. It is so, so obvious. Our irrelevant arguments and pathetic small talk and constant glares seem so . . . so inevitable, like we couldn’t stop, like we enjoyed the bickering. Somehow. We have sneered at one another since the day I arrived, fighting to try to find each other’s weaknesses. Mine is my insecurity. Tyler’s is the truth.

And beneath it all lies attraction.

Tyler is attracted to me, and I am attracted to Tyler.

The realization makes my heart skip a beat, my blood running cold as I lift my eyes to his. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time all over again, and now that I’m not seeing him as some jackass who rudely stormed into a barbecue, I can study him in a new light. His eyes are mesmerizing, his jaw is perfectly crafted, and his plump lips form a mischievous crooked smile. Not only that, there are so many things about him that I’m dying to find out. Mostly, I just want to uncover the truth about him. I need to know who he really is, not who he wants me to think he is. He’s pretending, just an actor playing a role. I need to know what happens backstage, after the show ends and the curtains come down. Who’s left?

Tyler notices my stare boring into him, and he looks perplexed.

“I think,” I say, drawing in a sharp breath, “that I’m attracted to you, too.”

My words take him aback. He slowly turns his body completely around to face me and he removes his hands from his pockets. Utter surprise dominates his expression. His widened eyes meet my gaze from five feet away, and he bites down on his lower lip. “You are?” He arches an eyebrow as though he can’t decide if I’m playing a game or not.

In all honesty, I really wish I was.

I shouldn’t be attracted to my stepbrother.

“I am.” It almost hurts to admit it. But at the same time, there’s a sense of relief that relaxes the tightness in my chest. I can no longer meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Tyler demands. He warily approaches me, his steps slow as he relaxes his fists. His gray T-shirt is tightly fitted to his body, and I find myself analyzing every detail of his outfit as he moves nearer. Gray T-shirt, dark jeans, and the white Chucks that match mine. “Don’t regret anything.”

When I glance up from the ground, where his feet have suddenly appeared next to mine, my breath hitches as I realize how close he is. His face is dark as he peers down at me, his eyes soft and gentle again. Over his shoulder, the sky continues to light up with every color of the rainbow. He lifts his hand to my elbow and skims the tips of his fingers against my skin. Delicately, he traces a line down to my wrist before moving his hand to my waist. He gently grips my body.

“What’s happening?” I whisper. The atmosphere is too charged to speak any louder and I can feel myself becoming breathless. I want to object, to push him away, because I know that this is wrong. But I don’t. I don’t, because I like the feeling of his skin against mine.

My eyes are locked somewhere between the tip of his shoulder and the window, but they’re not quite focused. He must pick up on how rigid I am, because his thumb begins to soothingly rub circles by my hip. His breathing is slow, and the scent of firewood and mint captivates me, drawing me in and charming me completely. He moves his lips toward the edge of my jaw. Softly, he places them against my skin, moving in a slow line toward the corner of my lips. He stops when he gets there.

“Let me kiss you,” he murmurs. He breathes against my cheek, hovering in trepidation.

“But you’re my stepbrother,” I whisper, my throat dry. My voice quivers and I just can’t control the anxiety that is rattling every inch of my body.

I sense Tyler swallow. “Just don’t think about it,” he tells me, right before he takes the plunge and presses his lips to mine.

And this time around, it’s even better than before. His lips are soft and moist as they lock with mine. I can almost feel his nervousness, like he can probably feel mine. The fireworks are still exploding. His grip on my waist tightens as he pulls me against his body. I don’t mind. I like the feeling.

“Hey!” a loud voice yells from somewhere along the hallway, but it doesn’t quite register in my mind. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t care even if it did. “Cut it out, guys.”

But we ignore the faint cry, too caught up in our wrong embrace to pay attention. My lips part as Tyler carefully wraps a hand around the back of my neck. He holds me close against him as his other hand drops from my waist to the small of my back. He dominates the kiss, controlling the speed and the intensity. But I don’t mind this either. I like this too.

The voice in the background grows louder, as do the footsteps that come along with it. “Get out of here before I arrest you both for trespassing.”

But I am still too wrapped up in Tyler. The heat from his hands radiates against my skin as he moves from a fast, light pace to a much slower, much deeper kiss. He tilts my chin up to get a better angle. I sure as hell don’t mind this, and I sure as hell like it.

“Alright, wrap it up,” the voice orders. It’s suddenly piercingly loud and gruff. My eyes snap open, my body stiffening beneath Tyler’s touch as a police officer meets my frozen stare. His arms are folded and there’s a frown etched on his lips. “Cut it out already!”

“Dammit,” Tyler hisses as he finally tears himself away from me. With a hand thrown back through his hair, he slowly turns around to face our intruder. He folds his arms across his chest, his hands balled into fists. “You got a problem?”

“You are trespassing,” the officer states matter-of-factly, shrewdly eyeing us in a rather degrading manner. It’s like he’s just discovered mice in the school cafeteria.

“Trespassing?” Tyler repeats, but his tone is contemptuous. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like sorting out those drunk fights out there on the field?” He gives a curt nod in the direction of the windows, where the finale of the firework display is underway. These fireworks are bigger. More dramatic, more colorful. Below, the football field is still heaving with the local public and police officers. Events on such a large scale as this are bound to be policed. It’s the same in Portland.

“Enough with the attitude,” the officer snaps. He takes a challenging stance, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “This school is closed apart from the designated hallways. You are trespassing and I am giving you the chance to leave by yourself before I have to make you.”

“Make me?” Tyler echoes sharply. I begin to take a step in the direction we came in, but I pause to reach out for the hem of his T-shirt. It doesn’t look like he’s about to move. He’s too busy fixing his eyes on the man opposite. “Can’t you just give us a second? We’ll get out of here, but you kind of interrupted something.”

“Tyler, just come on,” I murmur. I’m a little out of breath from all the kissing, and it’s exhilarating. I want to do it all over again.

“Yes, I figured I interrupted something,” the officer remarks, and he takes the time to glance between the two of us in disapproval. It causes my cheeks to flood with color. “I’m not asking to reason with you. I’m asking you to leave, and I expect you to do it. Don’t try to waste my time, son.”

“It’s a goddamn hallway,” Tyler mutters as he throws his hands up in frustration. “It’s not like we’re sneaking around the White House. Just give us five minutes.”

“Can’t you take no for an answer?” the officer asks, shaking his head in disbelief at Tyler’s persistence. “Didn’t your old man ever teach you how to obey orders?”

I might not know much about Tyler, but I know that the mere mention of his dad is a sure-fire way to set him off. And that’s exactly what happens.

“Are you a fucking asshole or what?” Tyler hisses, his tone suddenly venomous as he puffs out his chest and steps toward the officer. For a second I think he’s about to take a swing at him, but thankfully he doesn’t.

“Alright, that’s it,” the officer grunts. He moves one hand to his belt as he yanks out a pair of cuffs, his receding hairline allowing me to see every wrinkle on his forehead. And right now, there are a lot of them. He looks completely worked up. “I have asked you to leave but you are refusing orders and your attitude is downright inappropriate, so I am arresting you under Section 602.”

The color drains from Tyler’s face at the exact same moment that my mouth falls open, and right then, the officer’s eyes flicker over to meet mine. “Both of you.”