Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63: Asher

It’s getting dark out now.

Not in the dramatic, storm–is–coming way just in the soft, creeping way evening folds over everything, dimming the world one shadow at a time. Penny’s house is warm in that way most aren’t. Not because of the heat, but because it feels lived in. Steady. Still. It smells like citrus cleaner and lavender. The walls are covered in framed pictures – little kid versions of her in dance costumes, one with missing teeth and a crown, one with a gold medal. She’s everywhere in this house, like it belongs to her bones.

Tyler was right: her room is big. Not “master bedroom” big, but open, sprawling in a way that makes sense for someone who pirouettes more offen than she walks. There’s a barre across one wall, mirrors polished to a shine, a speaker in the corner, a shelf of worn ballet shoes with frayed ribbons and soles that have seen more war than I have.

When we came in, Penny looked a little embarrassed. “My parents didn’t want to keep paying for studio time,” she’d said, rubbing the back of her neck. “So they gave me this room to practice in. And since they’re barely ever home, their bedroom doesn’t get much use anyway.”

She’d said it lightly. The way people do when they’re used to carrying loneliness in a joke.

Now the air mattress is inflated near the barre, a few feet away from her bed, and Tyler was right about this too: her bed is huge. Like, obscenely huge. Big enough that all three of us could fit on it – a fact I clocked and immediately locked away in a box labeled Don’t You Dare, Hayes. I didn’t want to think about it when my parents first suggested it. I don’t want to think about it now. If I’m going to share a bed with a girl, it won’t be with my brother also in it. And it sure as hell won’t be with Penny Vales.

Because Penny’s room does something to me. She does something to me. Just being here, in the same space she sleeps in, has my cock twitching and straining against the zipper of my jeans.

And I need to keep my distance. I know that. I just don’t know if I can.

She’d even made space for our stuff – three drawers emptied, waiting. Thoughtful, neat, a gesture that says she’s used to holding space for other people. It’s disarming. Everything about her is disarming.

We set our stuff down, Tyler made a big deal about choosing a drawer (because of course he did), and now we’re in the living room again. Penny’s stretching on the hardwood floor, as casually as if it were her couch. One leg extended, toes pointed like she’s part cat. Tyler’s scrolling through his phone and arguing with her about what food to order. It’s stupid. It’s mundane. And somehow it’s the most alive I’ve felt all day.

“No,” Tyler says, lifting his head. “I’m not doing Indian food again. Last time I had tikka masala, I couldn’t feel my tong

wo hours.”

“You’re such a baby,” Penny fires back without even glancing at him, folding over her leg like it’s nothing.

“I value my mouth, thank you.”

“It’s not that spicy.”

“You’re used to suffering.”

She grins at that, head still down. “And yet, here I am, suffering more by living with you.”

“Ouch.” Tyler clutches his chest. “Wounded. Fatally.”

I sit back in the armchair, arms crossed, watching this like it’s sport. Their back–and–forth is rapid, absurd, and oddly satisfying.

“How about sushi?” Penny tries, hopeful.

Tyler pops back upright. “You want to eat cold sea creatures wrapped in algae?”

“Yes.”

“For dinner?”

“Yes.”

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Chapter 63: Asher

He squints at him. “Would you eat that for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week?”

Penny pauses. “What am I getting in return?”

Tyler tilts her head. “A strong immune system and a possible parasite.”

She groans, so he adds, “Okay, fine. Pizza?”

“You can’t survive off pizza.”

“I have survived off pizza.”

“And you want to keep doing that to your insides?”

He points a finger at her. “You just don’t understand the culinary versatility of pepperoni.”

She laughs, full–bodied and sharp. “You’re a menace to society.”

“And yet, society lets me keep ordering.”

He lifts his phone dramatically.

“Thai food,” she counters.

“No.”

“Korean barbecue?”

“That’s work.”

“You lazy-”

They go on like this, volley after volley, until finally Tyler throws his hande

1. up. “Alright, you know what? Thai it is. Final answer. But nothing spicy.”

Penny beams like she just won a war. “Excellent choice.”

Tyler places the order, muttering under his breath about ‘how she always gets her way‘ and ‘this is a dictatorship.‘ Penny resumes her stretches, folding herself in half with impossible grace.

I tear my eyes away before I stare too long.

It doesn’t help that she’s in sweatpants and a tank top now, hair loose, cheeks a little pink from exertion. She looks soft and untouchable at the same time.

“Okay,” Tyler announces. “Food’s on its way. Now, the next life–altering decision: the movie.”

I groan. “Here we go again.”

Penny sits cross–legged, bouncing slightly. “Romantic comedy.”

Tyler makes a face like he’s smelled something dead. “You mean romantic tragedy disguised with bad jokes?”

She sticks out her tongue. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“Action movie,” he counters. “Explosions. Chases. Things blowing up.”

“I’d rather watch paint dry. Plus…” She looks at me, as if thinking that explosions and action might trigger some sort of PTSD from me. It won’t. But my body tenses at the thought of her caring.

“Paint drying is your biography.”

Chapter 63: Asher

Penny gasps. “Rude!”

“True.”

“Lies!”

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