Seriously inappropriate crush on my brother aside, of course, the man is fine. Annoyingly enough though, he knows it.

“How do you still look gorgeous after spending God knows how long in the library?”

I shrug and pull my Moncler coat tighter around me. “That’s sweet. You have a final tomorrow too?”

“At eight-thirty in the morning. Kill me now.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” I tell him. I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. We worked on a group project together earlier in the semester and I tutored him for a few weeks so maybe he feels like flirting with the nerdy black girl is his way of saying thank you. I don’t really care either way.

“Are you heading back home tomorrow?” he asks, and I kind of want to wrap up this conversation because the anticipation of seeing James is giving me that tingling feeling that makes me high. “Because we’re throwing a party at the house. You should come by. I’ll get you a house cup.” He smiles. I’ve learned having a house cup is a very big deal. Basically, I won’t have to wait in line for a drink all night. It’s also usually a sign that the person is sleeping with or dating whoever provided such a cup and since I do neither with Miles, I have to politely decline.

“Yeah, I’m leaving right after,” I lie. Truth is, I’m crashing at James’ place tomorrow night and we’re going to drive home together Saturday morning.

“Damn, well maybe next time.” He pulls me into a hug and I reciprocate because I’m a hugger and it feels harmless enough. But the murderous glare I see my brother giving us out of the corner of my eye as he moves towards us has me second guessing myself.

“J? I…” I start, wondering why he isn’t still waiting outside.

“You were taking too long and I got worried.” He sizes up Miles and nods at him before turning towards me. “Who’s your friend?”

“James.” I roll my eyes and look at Miles who’s looking at my brother with an equally bothered expression. “Miles, this is my brother James.”

He looks back and forth between us in what I’m guessing is confusion, or at very least curiosity, and waiting for someone to continue. “Oh, so kind of like how girls say ‘he’s like my brother?’” He chuckles.

“No, dumbass, like we have the same mother and father,” James grits out and I realize what Miles is thinking right now and I’m a little annoyed he can’t just draw the conclusion on his own.

“I’m adopted,” I say and Miles nods.

“Ah, okay. Right.”

“What, you don’t see the family resemblance?” James sneers and I elbow him in his ribs.