Upon waking up, Brayden said today is neighborhood promenade day. He held up a credit card and promise me endless shopping. Although I didn't see any market outside the building when we pulled out of the parking blocks or on our way to the mall but I didn't care, I'm keener about what I can turn my wardrobe into without my mother's prospects when I have unlimited access to the credit card Brayden gave me.

"Where are we going?" I ask while he's driving on the double-lane road.

"Los Angeles for the first time."

Oh, shoot!

"Yes." I grinned. I hope he can't tell I am faking it.

"Excited?" He asked, and I hummed, given I forget how to pronounce words.

He glanced at me and exuberantly smiled.

"Cool."

Later, while there is a serene aura and a G-Eazy song is playing in the background, I went through my phone for the first time today, for I haven't gotten a convenient opportunity since I woke until now.

The first post I found on the screen was of Scarlett Maverick in a bathtub, showing off long slim legs hanging in the air. A bottle and cup of wine, some aroma candles, and a magazine are on the floor.

She has nine hundred likes already and five hundred comments which are daft, how more than half of the likes had to stop and type something nice.

Brayden's sharp intake of breath snaps me out of the struck anguish. I look over at him; he is focused on the road but his expression doesn't match the festive spirit he had earlier. I wonder why. Then his phone rings from the center console and he brings it to his ear.

"I'm taking Cali to promenade." He informed the receiver. "Where are you at?" He asked. "No, I've never been there, but I can use directions."

Did our plans just change?

"We'll see there." He ended the call with that and I asked him who it was.

"Myles. He's in Santa Monica and he recommended a finer mall with good boba you'll love."

I didn't know what to say, other than to smile at my brother. It gives him a cue I am okay with the idea. He looks up for Westfield Century City and the directions come up on the display monitor while I check the hanging messages on my account. One is from my favorite person and the other from the very least that I still tend to please, anyway.

My fingers eagerly went for Myles's message. It was a good night's text.

"This night I close my eyes and try to sleep, but all I can think of is you. All I could feel is your scent, like burning incense in my head. Cali, I'm going in the wrong direction. It's scary."

Okay?

He likes me but doesn't want to?

"Hey? You okay?" Brayden's voice is distinct. I jerk my head in his direction, jutting my chin like everything is fine, but I end up looking more suspicious.

"I am fine."

His eyes thinned. "If anything...." He begins but I am quick to interrupt him, "Nothing. I would tell you if there is anything, you know."

"I am not sure." His nose scrunches and I laugh at his impulsive objection.

"So you and Myles are best friends." I changed the topic.

"We are good, but not best friends. We've only known each other for a year and a half and the half is when we barely talked."

Oops.

"Keep convincing yourself. Bro, you live in the same building and have dinner together. Not to mention you get drunk on the same sofa, exchange each other's outfits and play video games. He calls you Bray, you call him Mills. And now you're going to a mall together." I sarcastically pointed out.

Brayden's expression went blank, and his lip parted.

"I didn't even realize."

"It's called bromance in literature." I teased, and he playfully elbowed me.

"Mind you, I agree to this promenade because dad said you're a die-hard fan of Myles Cameron, which is so confusing, how you're not mine. I am your brother, and I have been good to you and the team." He accused.

Great! Dad.

"I am your fan. Chloe was his. I am just keeping her memory alive." I half lied.

He briefly looks over, but he smiles small.

"You will be okay." He promised just as we drive into the parking lot of the huge mall.

Brayden heaves and dials Myles' phone number. When he picked up the call, Brayden asked him about his location.

"We're in the parking lot, too. I can't find the level." He answered after looking around through the windshields and windows for any sign.

"Do not dare, Idiot." He chuckled. "He fucking hung up on me." Brayden gasps at the screen of his phone.

And he said not best friends.

"What's happening?" I asked my brother, and he exhaled frustratedly.

"Keep an eye on an enraged McLaren." That's all he said while rubbing his temples.

Amused, I step out of the comfy Maserati and linger in my stance, peering left and right at every route until a familiar volcano-red McLaren steers down the lane.

He must have spotted me, because he stopped honking and slowed down, pulling by a free spot.

Anxiously, I wait for his appearance and he didn't delay. He comes out in knee-length cotton shorts, worn light fabric, light blue buttons down-long sleeve shirt, pulled up to his elbows, and grey flat shoes. And hair perfectly placed in the most tempting course.

He grins. Paperwhite teeth, sparkling emerald eyes, and deep dimples to get lost in. I didn't waste time thinking about the consequences of my action or the passage of vehicles I am about to cross. I run over to him.

The smile responsively slips off his face when looks to the left. He pales up. I follow his gaze.

Oh, shoot.

From behind me, I hear Brayden's panicked voice calling after me. Scared, I halt in my track. My eyes were sealed. And then my body is swept off the ground.

That scent. That rare invading scent. That rhythm of the heartbeat resembles a symphony. That warmth.

No, I wasn't hit. I was picked up in Myles's arms once again.

My eyes slowly opened. His were closed, his lips parted. His heart is pounding too hard behind his chest.

I place my hand there and watch him panting hard and fast. He was scared.

"Hey?" I whispered.

"Don't do that again."

"Okay. Can you look at me?" I sounded desperate, gladly he abided.

His eyes fluttered and lock like a magnet on mine. They were blazing with secure emotions.

"You gave me a heart attack." Brayden interrupted. He had crossed over and is panting too.

Myles put me down, and let Brayden cup my face, brush my hair and kiss my head, all those fatherly gestures. I had to struggle to peel out with a gross face while the boys laugh.

The rest of the time, I remain in between the two athletes, coming off too tiny in the picture. Although my brother is taller, they are almost the same height with board shoulders and prominent chests. Myles gave me his sunglass when I complain of too much brightness when the flashes of fans and paparazzi cameras began.

Yes, we were stopped by a lot of fans, and photoshoots, including store owners.

Both boys were so adorable with everyone and helped me choose good clothes, given surprisingly, they have good eyes for good things.

Most of the things I picked after our six hands were full were marked to be delivered to Brayden's address instead because I was been ridiculous while choosing. While I was looking through bikinis, Myles told me it's a shopping spell, that it happens to everyone.

I had told him to stop following me and to go entertain his fans as my brother was. But he picked two bikini sets and brought them to his torso, an adorable smile on his face.

I broke into a fit of laughter and yank them away from his custody.

Smiling, he asked me to try them on.

"Brayden, wouldn't like you reviewing me in them."

He peeks through the glass to where Brayden is giving autographs to a group of men and couples. He looks back at me and says, "He doesn't have to know."

Blushing, I bite my lip and he grabs my hand, pulling me towards the changing area aisle. There are many cubicles. We race into the last one. It is small, mostly for the two of us.

I chortle when I realize I can not change with him watching me and he seems to read my mind, for he expels a laugh and threads his fingers through his hair. They spike up most invitingly. I am suddenly jealous of his fingers.

"I will be outside," Myles announced and turned the doorknob, but I stop him, holding his hand.

"You can just turn around." I don't know why I did that or said that, but I don't even regret it.

His eyes spark with many emotions. This time I saw desire in the pool. His chest begins to rise and fall. He nods once and turns his back to me.

Admittedly, I enjoy having him near. It's psychotic, maybe, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't know how to think around him.