Craving My Brother's Best Friend (Bailey and Kaleb) novel Chapter 12

**The Night We Borrowed Fire from a Broken Star by Selvin Arlo Crest**
**Chapter 12**

**Bailey’s POV**

The carton of milk felt icy against my palm as I squeezed it, the chill biting through my skin.

“We should really be getting regular milk,” I insisted, my tone resolute, almost pleading.

Kaleb, however, remained unfazed, his focus entirely on the shelf before him. “Oat milk is the superior choice,” he countered, his voice casual as he plucked the carton from my grasp and replaced it with the oat milk he favored.

A groan escaped my lips, and I turned away, quickening my pace down the aisle. “Wait up,” he muttered, and I feigned annoyance, though deep down, I was anything but.

The squeak of my sneakers echoed in the quiet store as I hurried along, the sound a reminder of how close he was behind me.

We had ventured out for groceries, but David had already ditched us at the first sign of the shoe store.

His eyes had lit up with childlike excitement, and he declared, “I’ll catch up. Groceries are so boring!” And just like that, he disappeared, leaving Kaleb and me in a bubble of unspoken tension.

It felt as if we were ensnared in a secret relationship, one that hovered just beneath the surface, unacknowledged and yet all-consuming.

We shared kisses and fleeting touches, pretending it was all just a casual fling. But I could still feel the warmth of that kiss in the storage room and the thrill of what had happened in my own room.

I craved all of him, but the words lodged in my throat, heavy and unspoken. I knew Kaleb was unpredictable; if I dared to ask for too much, I risked pushing him away, watching as he retreated into his own protective shell.

So, I accepted our tangled connection, even though it gnawed at me, and I tried to keep my thoughts anchored in the present. After all, tomorrow was a nebulous thing, best left unexamined.

“I’ll handle the payment,” Kaleb announced, steering the cart toward the checkout.

I feigned indifference, striding past him as if it didn’t matter, but I trailed behind nonetheless.

Standing beside him at the register, I observed him in silence, stealing glances at his profile.

His tousled brown hair fell across his forehead, and he absentmindedly brushed it back, a simple gesture that made my heart flutter.

“Your girlfriend is so cute,” the cashier remarked with a smile.

I opened my mouth to correct her, “No… we are not…” but Kaleb swiftly interjected, “She’s not my girlfriend,” as he handed over his card.

I felt a surge of annoyance wash over me. Did he really have to be so blunt?

Together, we made our way to the parking lot, where he began shoving groceries into the trunk of David’s car, rearranging bags with an air of irritation. I stood there, arms crossed, feeling the heat of frustration rise within me.

“You don’t put the bread under the cans,” I said abruptly, snatching a loaf from beneath a bag of beans.

“And you don’t place the eggs near the heavy stuff,” he shot back, cradling the carton as if it were precious.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Kaleb.”

“Honestly, did you really have to make it that clear back there?” I began, my irritation bubbling to the surface.

He smirked, shaking his head as he slid the last bag into place.

“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head, but then his expression changed.

His hands froze on the trunk, and his shoulders tensed. The playful smirk vanished, replaced by something serious.

“Bailey,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of tension. “Can you drive home?”

I froze, confusion washing over me. “What?”

“I have somewhere to be,” he replied, still avoiding my gaze.

“What’s wrong?” My voice trembled, a crack forming in my facade.

“Nothing,” he answered curtly.

Before I could probe further, he slammed the trunk shut with a resounding thud and turned away, striding confidently across the street, his back straight and purposeful.

“Kaleb!” I called after him, desperation creeping into my tone, but he didn’t even glance back.

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