Did I spend the rest of Sunday thinking about Vik? Yes, I did. I tried looking up his socials, but there were a lot of Viks in the area. He didn't seem like the type to have a social media account, anyway. He probably spent most of his time out living life. Documenting everything only with his eyes. No need to update strangers on the internet about his adventures.

Liah refused to help me track him down. How was I supposed to see him again? Showing up at Mapleway every Sunday, hoping he'd be there, screamed stalker.

Ugh. Why didn't I get his number? Why didn't he ask for mine?

By the time school let out on Monday, boring teachers and homework assignments replaced all thoughts of boys. Liah and I stayed at school an extra hour in the library. She got an early start on her homework. With three siblings under the age of ten, her house was never quiet.

I read a romance book while she worked. Something about two people meeting at a music festival and having a whirlwind romance over the whole weekend. It kind of reminded me of Vik, and the day we spent at Mapleway. Thinking about it made my chest flutter.

When I got home, though, I was unpleasantly surprised to find a shirtless boy in my kitchen.

I thought it was Mom messing around in the there, but it was Corey. A shirtless Corey. He wasn't facing me, the muscles in his back flexing as he dug around under the sink.

If he wasn't one half of the most annoying duo in my life, he could've been attractive. Okay. He was attractive. In a nerdy kind of way. He wasn't exactly tall, just long. Long arms, long legs. His hair was short on the sides, longer on top. Sometimes he wore his curls out. That day they were in a dozen small twists.

Six years ago, if you'd told me nerdy Cordell Michaels would be half naked in my kitchen, I never would've paired up with him for that fifth grade science project.

He and Gray became instant friends, which got on my nerves in more ways than one.

There was a time in my life when I didn't hate Gray. In typical younger sibling fashion, I looked up to him. Constantly followed him around to the point where our parents called me his shadow. Then he got to middle school and suddenly, hanging out with his baby sister wasn't acceptable.

I thought it was an age thing. Then he invited Corey to play basketball with him and his friends. Corey, who was two months younger than me. It wasn't because I was eleven and he was twelve. It was because I was his sister. A girl.

That's when I started hating my brother and, by extension, Corey.

I reminded myself of that hate as I forced my teenage hormones down and tore my eyes away from his bare back.

"Ew."

Corey jumped, spinning around. I laughed and grabbed a cup from the cabinet.

"Oh. Uh. What are you doing here?" He stumbled over his words, crossing his arms over himself like he was trying to hide his shirtless torso. Cute.

"In my house?" I grabbed a bottle of juice from the refrigerator, filling my cup.

"I was mowing the lawn," he said, answering a question I didn't ask. "It got hot."

"Gray's got you doing his chores now?"

He shook his head, turning back to the cabinet under the sink. "This might be a foreign concept to someone as selfish as you, but sometimes, people do things for others out of kindness." He stood, a jug of bleach in his hand. "Example: A nicer person might've offered their guest something to drink."

Staring him dead in the eyes, I took a long, purposeful sip of my lemonade. "You're not my guest."

He nodded, amused. "Cute."

I flashed him a wide, innocent smile before turning to leave.

And running smack into the wall.

Lemonade exploded all over me, running down my chest and soaking my shirt. Corey laughed his ridiculous honking laugh of his.

"That was beautiful," he said, still slow clapping as he slipped past me and into the garage.

I flipped him off before rushing upstairs to change.

• • •

No longer wet and sticky, I went back down to the kitchen to clean up the mess I left. Corey was still there, sitting at the kitchen table, a textbook in his hands. The lemonade had already been mopped up.

After grabbing my backpack from where I left it by the front door, I joined him at the table. Not to keep him company. I always did my homework there. My room was a peaceful place and the evil of school work wasn't welcome.

"Are you our new maid? Because the upstairs bathroom needs a scrub."

His brown eyes slowly dragged up from his textbook, his features blank. "I'm washing."

I paused, brows rising. "You're doing our laundry, too?"

"No. The dryer in our apartment stopped working. Your mom said I could wash here." His lips curled up to the side. "But if the princess needs her royal bloomers cleaned, I'll get right on it."

Corey Michaels, talking about my panties, wasn't expecting that. Neither was he  by the way his smirk quickly dropped from his face. He almost looked embarrassed. He turned back to his homework, but I wasn't done with him yet.

"I want it done by hand. No skipping corners."

He lifted his gaze to me again. "Anything for the princess."

• • •

We fell into a comfortable silence as we did our homework. Well, almost silent, Corey was humming. The song sounded familiar. I was trying to place it when he caught me staring. I had to stop getting caught.

"What?"

Faking annoyance, I told him, "You're humming."

"Sorry." He turned back to his work

I missed the humming, but I wasn't telling him that. A phone dinged a moment later and I was sad it wasn't me being distracted from homework. Corey's phone lit up on the table. He tapped a message and closed it just as quick, but I saw something about the beach.

The closest beach was in Oakwood. If Vik went to Oakwood High, he had to stay in the area. Maybe he liked going to the beach on random Mondays. I didn't believe in signs, but this had to be one.

"Are you going to the beach?"

He met my eye. "It's rude to read people's messages." Then he shoved his phone into his pocket like I was going to take it and go through everyone of his texts.

"Are you going?" I tried again.

"Why?"

"I want to go."

"No."

"That's no way to speak to a princess."

"That wasn't meant to be a compliment."

I ignored his comment. "Take me with you."

He adjusted in his seat, elbows on the table as he hunched over his textbook. Then ignored me. The other night, he said he didn't care what I did. Why couldn't I go to the beach with him?

"Please?"

He sagged back in the chair, running a giant hand over his face as he let out a sigh. "If you're not outside by seven--"

I squealed, drowning out the rest of his sentence. Yes. I squealed. It wasn't often that I got my way. I immediately felt ridiculous over the sound I'd made.

Corey was going to make fun of me for it, I was sure by the way the corners of his mouth ticked up. But maybe I was seeing things because a second later the almost smile was gone and he was staring at his textbook again.