Craving My Brother's Best Friend (Bailey and Kaleb) novel Chapter 49

**TITLE: The Night We Borrowed Fire from a Broken Star by Selvin Arlo Crest**
**Chapter 49**

**Kaleb’s POV**

Time dragged on as I tapped my foot impatiently against the polished floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet apartment.

David was still in front of the mirror, a flurry of fabric swirling around him as he changed his shirt for the third time.

“Come on, man, it’s just your parents you’re going to see,” I said, my annoyance creeping into my tone.

“Why are you acting like you’re about to meet the president?”

David tugged at his collar, his brow furrowing in concentration. “You don’t understand, Kaleb. I wear scrubs every single day. This is my chance to dress up, and I just want to look decent.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at his antics. “You’re out of your mind. It’s your parents! They wouldn’t care if you showed up in your underwear.”

He grimaced, his eyes darting back to the mirror as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, clearly still unsatisfied with his appearance.

“You look perfectly fine,” I insisted, finally rising from my seat.

“Come on, we’re already late,” I urged, a sense of urgency creeping into my voice.

After a long, reluctant sigh, David grabbed his jacket, the fabric crinkling under his fingers.

“Okay, let’s go,” he conceded, and we made our way out of my apartment, the door clicking shut behind us.

We hurried down the stairs and into the car, where David’s foot pressed down on the gas pedal, the engine roaring to life. His fingers drummed nervously against the steering wheel, a rhythm that matched the rapid thumping of my own heart.

“Bailey is going to tease me,” he muttered, a hint of dread in his voice.

“She’ll tease you no matter what,” I replied, leaning back against the seat, trying to relax.

By the time we pulled into the restaurant parking lot, we were already fifteen minutes behind schedule. I followed David inside, the rich aroma of roasted meat and exotic spices enveloping me like a warm embrace.

The restaurant was opulent, with white tablecloths draping elegantly over the tables, shiny silverware glinting under the soft lighting, and patrons dressed to the nines as if they were stepping out of the pages of a fashion magazine.

Scanning the room, I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Hart seated at a table, Bailey beside her mother. She looked both uncomfortable and stunning, her beauty undeniable even amidst her evident unease.

“Sorry we’re late,” David said hastily as we approached their table, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

Mrs. Hart beamed at him, rising to envelop him in a warm hug. Mr. Hart extended his hand, which David shook firmly.

I offered a small nod in their direction, my eyes flicking toward Bailey, who lifted her gaze to meet mine for a fleeting moment before looking away, a mix of emotions swirling in her expression.

My chest tightened at the brief connection, but I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression, fighting against the storm of thoughts brewing inside me.

Taking my seat at the far end of the table, I tried to keep my focus steady, resisting the urge to stare at Bailey, my mind racing with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.

As the waiter arrived with our meals, I attempted to concentrate on my plate, but the atmosphere shifted when Mr. Hart cleared his throat, his voice booming with pride.

“The son of my business partner will be joining us tonight,” he announced, a hint of excitement in his tone. “He’s in your college too.”

I barely registered his words, my mind preoccupied with my own thoughts. Business partner’s kid? So what?

But when the doors swung open, I froze, my heart dropping as I recognized the figure walking in.

Ethan.

My entire body went rigid as I watched him glide toward our table, a confident smile plastered on his face. My grip tightened around the spoon in my hand, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

What the hell is he doing here?

He approached our table as if he belonged there, and it ignited a fire of rage within me.

“Good evening,” he greeted smoothly, his voice dripping with charm.

“Ethan!” Mr. Hart exclaimed, rising to welcome him with open arms.

“Welcome, welcome! Sit down. Everyone, this is Ethan Cross.”

I felt my teeth clench painfully, a wave of frustration washing over me.

Of course, it had to be Ethan Cross—the son of Trevor Cross.

If Mr. Hart was so welcoming toward him, it suggested an ongoing relationship with Trevor Cross, hinting at secrets I was not privy to.

“We all know who he is, Dad,” Bailey muttered, her voice laced with irritation.

Ethan settled himself right next to her, and I struggled to contain my urge to leap up from my seat.

“So, are you all friends?” Mr. Hart inquired, glancing around the table with genuine curiosity.

“Yes,” Ethan replied effortlessly, flashing a smile at Bailey that made my insides churn.

“Friends, indeed. In fact, I’m hoping to be more than just friends with her.”

My hand trembled, and the spoon nearly slipped from my grasp.

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