Craving My Brother's Best Friend (Bailey and Kaleb) novel Chapter 21

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

Selena leaned in, her head tilted slightly, an expression of mild judgment dancing across her features. “Well, it’s safe,” she remarked, her tone a mix of sincerity and subtle critique. I could sense her scrutinizing me, yet she was trying to soften the blow.

“But I wouldn’t wear that,” I replied, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice.

With a dramatic groan, I tossed the offending dress onto my bed, the fabric landing with a soft thud. “You’ve disqualified all the dresses I picked out,” I lamented, feeling defeated.

“What exactly do you want me to wear?” she shot back, exasperation evident in her voice.

Her eyes rolled with such disdain that I felt like the biggest fool on the planet.

“It’s just the faculty party for freshmen,” I mumbled, trying to downplay the significance.

“You know nothing, girl,” Selena retorted, throwing her hands up in the air as if I had just committed a grave error.

I raised an eyebrow, incredulity washing over me. “Nothing?”

“Yes. Nothing,” she reiterated, her tone firm.

With an air of authority, she strutted over to my closet, rifling through my collection of dresses as if she had every right to do so.

“Listen, I’m a sophomore. I’ve been in college longer than you,” she stated, her voice dripping with confidence. “This is where you make your mark. This is what determines whether you get into Brown high society. You don’t just walk in wearing something safe. You walk in looking hot, and you make all the boys swoon and the girls green with envy.”

I blinked at her, utterly confused. “What does that even mean?”

“You act like this is some kind of war,” I groaned, feeling the weight of the evening’s expectations pressing down on me.

“Girl, it is a war, and Kaleb is going to be there. You need to stand out and make him jealous,” she insisted, her eyes sparkling with determination.

Finally, she thrust a dress into my hands. It was a silky, body-hugging gown, with a daring neckline and a slit that seemed to defy the laws of fashion itself.

“I can’t wear this,” I protested, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You can and you will,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I glanced between the dress and her, my heart racing. “Selena…”

“Bailey,” she snapped back, mirroring my tone with a fierce intensity.

And just like that, I found myself standing before the mirror, staring at my reflection.

I couldn’t deny it; I looked stunning. I looked absolutely, undeniably beautiful.

My hair cascaded in smooth waves over my shoulders, and my makeup was nothing short of flawless. Selena had gone all out, enhancing my features with dark, smoky eyes, glossy nude lips, and skin that seemed to radiate light as if touched by a thousand angels.

“I look… hella beautiful,” I murmured, almost in disbelief.

Selena smirked behind me, her arms crossed in triumph. “Finally, she admits it.”

I chuckled nervously, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re welcome,” she replied, grabbing her purse with a flourish.

I knew we’d end up late, of course, but as we stepped into the hall, I was taken aback.

I had never encountered a party this vibrant before. College was a different world entirely.

Everyone seemed effortlessly cool, and despite my initial reluctance, I had to admit that Selena was right about the dress.

The music pulsed through the air, and the lights flashed in a wild, dizzying display.

As we entered, heads turned, and I felt the weight of their gazes upon us. I wasn’t imagining it; people were genuinely whispering and staring.

Selena moved with the confidence of a queen who owned the room, and I struggled to keep up with her pace.

“Selena…” I began, but she was already gone, swept away by the allure of some tall guy who had caught her eye.

With a resigned sigh, I pushed my way further into the crowd, only to collide with a wall of muscle clad in a perfectly tailored suit.

I stumbled back, ready to murmur an apology, but when I looked up, my breath hitched in my throat.

Damn.

He wasn’t just attractive—he was unreal. Jet-black hair framed his sharp jawline, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through me. His entire presence exuded an aura of polished perfection.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth, accented with the most posh British lilt I had ever encountered.

I felt myself melting under his gaze.

“I’m alright,” I stammered, my hands instinctively clutching his arm as if it were a lifeline.

He smelled incredible, a mix of something fresh and intoxicating.

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