The Next Line ( The Lineage Series #2)

⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains smut. Please be aware before proceeding. ⚠️

Joshuan

7:01 PM.

Of course nobody was home. Just me and my two dogs.

Dad was busy handling some urgent calls for the gym, Mom was out shopping for some gala fabric with her crew, and Diego had left an hour ago to play soccer with his friends at the park.

I check the time again.

She's late. She's always late to our tutoring sessions.

Not by much. Just five minutes. But still—late enough to make me wonder if she's going to show at all.

I'm standing in the kitchen, flipping through her workbook and pretending I'm reviewing the lesson. In reality, I've read the same sentence in Spanish three times and haven't translated a damn thing.

Fang lounges near the back door, tail thumping lazily. Zeus paces like he senses something's off.

I get it, boy. I do too.

The last time I saw her- god don't get me even started on her.

I'm standing in my kitchen, wondering if Jamie's going to kill me for sleeping with his sister.
That's it. I'm fucked. Totally screwed.

Now I'm just standing here like some idiot, replaying everything in my head, wondering if I crossed a line I can't ever come back from.

But it was definitely worth it.

She hasn't called.
Hasn't texted.
Not even a "Hey."

I've been patient. I haven't pushed.
But it's driving me crazy.

Because she's not just some girl.
She's not a fling.
She's Aurora.

And I know what it meant.
Even if she's scared to admit it.

Even if she thinks pretending it didn't happen is safer.

I run a hand through my hair, pushing away the tension growing in my chest.

This isn't supposed to feel this uncertain.

And maybe I shouldn't care.
Maybe I should go back to how things were before—keep my head down, get the job done, forget the taste of her skin, the way her body moved beneath mine.

But I can't.
Because she wasn't just good. She was right. She was perfect for me.

Before I can even text her to ask where she is,
Fang barks once.
Zeus perks up, ears sharp like radar.

7:05 PM.

I grab the workbook again, like I wasn't pacing my room two seconds ago.

When I open the door, she's standing there.

Hair pulled back in a long ponytail. Lip gloss barely visible. Textbooks clutched to her chest like a shield.

But her eyes—they had a glow to them.

"Princes-" I say, keeping my voice level.

"Sorry I'm late," she murmurs, brushing past me.

"You're not," I lie. "Five minutes just gave me time to remind myself not to kiss you the second you walk in."

She freezes.

I see the way her breath catches.
The way her fingers tighten around her bag.

But she doesn't look at me.