Brian had really taken a solid punch. When he lifted his head, people around him were staring at his bleeding nose and mouth in shock. Michelle looked terrified. Theo was frozen—because neither of them even knew who the hell the guy throwing the punch was.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, creeping on my sister like that?" the stranger yelled.
Brian was still stunned. Getting blindsided like that wasn't something he was used to. Freezing up was normal.
Michelle slapped the guy across the face and screamed, "I'll break that hand of yours!"
Brian needed to snap out of it. "His sister" was defending him, but he stood there paralyzed, like a little kid watching his parents fight. He shook his head, stepped forward twice, and cracked his fist straight into the guy's mouth.
Another punch came back immediately. Then it was chaos—both of them going at each other's throats.
Fists flew, blood spilled. Students circled around them, some cheering, some screaming, some just watching with sick amusement. It was brutal. Then the tide shifted—a tall blond guy came from behind, grabbed Brian, and slammed him to the ground. The two of them started wailing on him together.
The winner was obvious now. It was Natasha's brother.
People began to scatter. Brian sat slumped on a poolside lounger, blood dripping from his mouth, Michelle wiping his face with a tissue. She was talking, but Brian couldn't hear a thing. His inner voice drowned it all out.
That fucking bastard humiliated me… son of a bitch. Is it that easy now? What kind of fucked-up world is this? They're laughing at me.
That was it for Brian. He scanned the area, looking for something—anything—he could break over their heads. But fear held him back. What if they beat him down again? Still… he'd already been humiliated. Two choices were staring him in the face: go after them and protect his dignity, or walk away.
The second option… that was more Brian's style.
He'd always backed down when it mattered most. And every time he lay awake at night replaying things in his head, he regretted it. This time was no different.
"Damn, Brian, your eye's turning purple!" Michelle said.
"You good, bro?" Theo added.
Brian looked at both of them, disgust rising in his chest.
Fuck both of you. And fuck your relationship too.
"Brian?" Michelle asked softly.
"I'm fine," Brian muttered. "No need to worry."
⸻
The next day, everything felt like an avalanche. At the construction site, five workers were busting their asses, and they were done. How much longer could this go on? It was breaking point.
Then Brian showed up and called for a lunch break. Just like that, the tension eased. They were his crew, and even if they respected him, there was something else there—fear. It wasn't just because he was the foreman, but the way he carried himself.
But was Brian really that tough? After all, just last night he'd been beaten by two college kids. He showed up with a swollen eye and a split lip. Maybe that's why the crew worked harder—they thought he looked dangerous now.
Meanwhile, Michelle had been in bed all day, unable to move. Shame and guilt gnawed at her. The image of Brian taking that beating wouldn't leave her head. If she hadn't dragged him to that party, maybe Mathew never would've thrown that punch.
Brian replayed the fight over and over in his head, rewriting it each time, always with him on top. He made himself a promise: next time, he'd fight. No hesitation. No backing down.
Isn't that what life was? If you run from every challenge, what the hell do you end up with?
Brian stepped out of his cabin, lit a cigarette. The crew had done an incredible job. Maybe it was his pep talk at lunch, or maybe it was just the intimidating look on his battered face. Five men had done the work of ten. The job was almost finished.
Which meant Brian wouldn't have to come back tomorrow. They could handle the rest.
"Good job, boys," Brian called out.
"Thanks, boss!" voices echoed from below, filled with pride.
⸻
That night, Brian went home and stood under a cold shower. He hadn't even worked much that day, but his body ached. No energy left.
Two hours later, the doorbell rang. Michelle. Shame was written all over her face. She looked like she'd been the one to personally hire those college kids to beat him up.
They talked, but there was a chill in the air, like something between them had cracked. But had there really been anything to break? Brian was innocent—that much was clear. Michelle? Not so much.
"Are you mad at me?" Michelle asked. She sat curled on the couch, her right hand propping up her cheek, legs tucked underneath her—a casual pose, but intimate all the same.
"Why would I be?" Brian answered without even looking at her.
Michelle sighed. "It's my fault. If I hadn't taken you to that party, none of this would've happened. I already screwed up by dragging you into my love life, and now you got beat up because of me." Her voice wavered, almost breaking into tears.
"Babe, I didn't fight because of you," Brian said flatly. "That blonde's brother jumped me. What was his name? Natael? Natasha?"
"Natasha," Michelle corrected—and that's when it hit her. She hadn't even thought about Brian and Natasha until now. A sting of jealousy cut through her guilt.
Why? Brian's love life wasn't her business. Still, she couldn't stop herself.
"How did you two even meet? Did you like her?"
Brian snorted. "Like her? Nah. I was just horny."
Michelle's curiosity flared.
"If you had gone home with her that night, what would you have done?"
Brian didn't blink. These conversations weren't unusual for them.
"Her lips were huge, bro. Bet she'd give insane head."
Michelle bit her lip. The more Brian talked, the harder she bit down. Against her will, she was getting turned on. There was something about him—especially after last night—that made him more attractive than ever. She wanted to grab him, kiss him, jump on him.
But she couldn't.
They were "siblings," after all. This wasn't supposed to happen.
⸻
The next morning, Brian skipped the site. He checked in with the crew, then made himself a king's breakfast—eggs, sucuk, pastirma, everything. Maybe it was the thought of Michelle joining him that made him feel so good.
When your closest friend is around, the day feels lighter. They ate together, then went to the hospital, sorted some paperwork for the job, and left the rest of the day free.
Meanwhile, Theo was still calling Michelle. When she didn't answer, the texts came—filthy, angry messages.
Fucking bastard, Brian thought. Sick little pervert.
He could see it clearly: Theo stewing, more furious each time Michelle ignored him. Brian wasn't clueless—he'd been in toxic messes too. But that was high school. Michelle was twenty-one, a junior at USC. To be stuck in some childish drama? Ridiculous.
Because look at Michelle. With that beauty, who the hell was Theo?
If Theo was a cockroach, then Michelle—no matter how beautiful—was the sewer fairy picking that roach up and mistaking filth for perfume.
Beauty wasn't enough. Michelle's character was weak. She was still a kid at heart.
⸻
They spent the day together. Back at Brian's place, Michelle's phone rang again. Not Theo this time. Sarah.
Brian was sprawled on the couch, Michelle on the other end, chatting. He scrolled through TikTok, but his mind kept replaying last night.
Why the fuck didn't I do anything? Could I be any more humiliated?
Michelle's voice cut in.
"Wanna go to a party?"
Brian turned his head.
"You fucking kidding me, Michelle? What party?"
"You're right," she muttered. "Forget it."
"Nah, you go," Brian said. "Don't look at me like that. Go on."
"What am I supposed to do there without you?" she asked quietly, trying to hide her disappointment.
But Brian had zoned out again. Maybe he should go. Smash that kid's face in. Take revenge. But that wasn't him. Not really. Still… nothing was stopping him from showing up just to prove a point.
⸻
The party was already going full throttle. This wasn't like the school event from the other night. That one was tame. This? Wild.
It was at the mansion of Sarah Monroe—one of the most popular girls in their circle in all of Los Angeles. Like Michelle, she went to USC. Smart, social, connected. Her parties were legendary.
Brian had been the popular kid once. Now? He felt like an outsider. He never went to college. No regrets—he made good money. But still, watching this life up close… it looked nice.
People danced, drank, lost themselves. Brian and Michelle sat in a corner, drinking. For the first time in a while, they were laughing like before. No tension. No desire. Just them.
Then Brian saw Mathew.
"You… son of a bitch."
Brian stood, walking straight toward him. In his hand, brass knuckles glinted. But before he could act, Michelle stepped in front of him.
"Don't," she pleaded. "Baby, I know why you're here, but don't. If it's too much, we'll leave right now. But please… don't fight. Watching you like this breaks my heart."
Brian's blood boiled.
"What the fuck do you mean it breaks your heart, Michelle? You think I'm some kid? You think I'm about to get beat down again?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Brian. You know that's not what I meant."
"Whatever," Brian muttered, turning away.
It breaks her heart? Who the fuck does she think she is to pity me?
Brian had already decided—he'd strike in the middle of the crowd, humiliate Mathew the way he'd been humiliated.
But then a slow romantic track came on. Michelle grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. She didn't want to dance—she just wanted to stop him. And it worked.
Brian's hands slid around her waist. Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck. Their eyes locked, unbroken. For a moment, the world faded.
For almost seven years she had been his sister, his best friend. Now? She was driving him insane. Not just sexually. Emotionally.
What the hell are we doing? Brian thought.
He didn't want to stop. But he couldn't go on either. How could someone you'd always seen as a sister suddenly feel like the most intoxicating woman alive?
When the song ended, they left in silence.
Back home, Brian lay in bed, tossing. Left side—Michelle. Right side—Michelle. Everywhere, Michelle.
He hated it. Hated how much he wanted her.
How the fuck do you fall for your sister?
⸻
Next morning, Brian was back at the site. He didn't push himself. Days blurred. Nothing special—except one thing.
He hadn't seen Michelle in three days.
He was avoiding her, deliberately. He couldn't face the truth—that he wanted her. Lying to himself was easier. But it didn't work.
Three days? Thirteen days? Didn't matter. She was his best friend. They always saw each other.
Michelle called nonstop, made plans. Brian kept making excuses. Until finally, she'd had enough.
She showed up at his door—furious, confused.
"What the hell is going on, Brian?" she snapped, barging in.
"Something's clearly wrong. You're not picking up, and when you do, you brush me off. What the fuck is happening? Is this about Mathew? Is that why? Because I didn't let you go after him?"
Her voice rose, her eyes locked on his. She stood on the tips of her toes in white socks, leggings hugging her legs. It drove Brian crazy.
But he stuck to the lies.
"Yeah! Fuck yeah!" he exploded.
"It wasn't the fight, Michelle. It wasn't the punch. It was that it happened in front of everyone. I couldn't swallow that. I've been working in brutal shit for years—so how the fuck do I get my ass handed to me by two college punks? Tell me that!"
"This is it, Brian? Really? What would you have done if I let you go? Cracked his skull with brass knuckles? Then what—jail? A lawsuit? If you're ignoring me because I tried to stop you from doing something stupid—then you don't see how much I care about you. So honestly? I've got nothing else to say."
Brian's chest burned. The words were right there.
He wanted to scream them.
But how?
How do you look someone you've called like your sister, your best friend, in the eye… and say:
I have feelings for you.