7CHILLY CONSEQUENCES

Alexia's POV

I shouldn't care.

I shouldn't feel guilty watching him suffer after the stunt he pulled.

But here I am, kneeling beside him as he throws up for the third time.

"It's okay," I whisper, rubbing slow circles on his back. "You'll feel better soon."

He groans, gripping the edge of the sink like it's the only thing keeping him upright.

His usual arrogance and power are gone.

Right now, he's just a man—vulnerable, sick, barely able to stand.

It's unnerving.

Because this isn't the Brandon I know.

The Brandon I know is cruel, smug, untouchable.

Not… this.

He leans back against the counter, breathing heavily. His face is pale, beads of sweat glistening along his forehead.

He looks miserable.

"Bet you're enjoying this, huh?" he mutters, voice raspy. He asks me for a second time. Now l am pissed.

I cross my arms. "Oh, absolutely. Watching you vomit your soul out is the highlight of my year."

He glares at me, too weak to argue.

"Serves you right," I add. "You should've just admitted the food was inedible instead of acting like an unbreakable macho man."

"Fuck off, Alexia," he mutters, closing his eyes.

I roll mine.

"You're not scaring anyone in your current state, tough guy."

He doesn't reply.

His head tips back against the cabinet, his breathing slow, uneven.

I hate that I feel bad.

I hate that I want to comfort him.

But the guilt keeps clawing at my chest.

With a sigh, I grab a damp cloth and press it against his forehead.

"We need to get you to bed," I say softly.

His brows furrow slightly, but he doesn't protest.

Which scares me.

Brandon never lets anyone take care of him.

But now, he's letting me.

That realization makes my stomach twist in ways I don't want to acknowledge.

I slip my arm under his, helping him up.

He's heavy as hell, and my knees nearly buckle, but I tighten my grip, dragging him toward his room.

"Jesus, Brandon, have you been eating bricks?" I huff, struggling to keep him steady.

He lets out a low chuckle, his voice weak.

"Just… put me down."

"No. You'll pass out and hit your head, and I don't have the energy to deal with that."

We finally reach his bedroom. I push the door open and drop him onto the mattress.

I step back, panting.

"See? You're alive. Congratulations."

Brandon shifts slightly, eyes fluttering open.

"Water," he murmurs.

I sigh but grab a glass from his nightstand and help him drink.

His throat moves as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Why am I staring?

I quickly set the glass down and clear my throat.

"Try to get some rest."

I turn to leave, but—

A strong hand wraps around my wrist.

I freeze.

His grip is weak, trembling, but firm enough to stop me.

"Don't go."

My breath catches.

"Brandon—"

"Just… stay."

His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.

My heart stutters in my chest.

This is dangerous.

This is exactly the kind of moment I need to avoid.

But when I look at him,

weaty, exhausted, vulnerable in a way I've never seen him before.

I can't move.

With a shaky breath, I sit on the edge of the bed.

His fingers relax but don't let go of me.

A heavy silence settles between us.

He's still burning up. His shirt is damp with sweat, clinging to his body.

I should grab a fresh one.

I should leave.

Instead, my hand moves on its own, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead.

Brandon's eyes flutter open.

Deep, dark blue.

And for the first time, they don't look cold.

They look…

Soft.

Raw.

Something shifts in the air.

My breath feels too loud.

His gaze drops to my lips.

And then—

His fingers slide up, brushing against my jaw.

It's such a small touch.

Barely there.

But it sends a jolt through my entire body.

My lips part slightly, my heart pounding.

"Alexia…" he murmurs.

His thumb grazes my lower lip.

I should stop this.

I should pull away.

But when he leans in, his breath warm against my skin, my body betrays me.

His lips brush against mine.

Soft. Hesitant.

But then—

The hesitation vanishes.

His fingers tangle into my hair, pulling me closer as his mouth captures mine completely.

The kiss is slow, deep, intoxicating.

A fire ignites between us, burning through every wall I tried to build.

I feel everything.

The frustration.

The pain.

The years of unresolved tension.

I press closer, fisting the sheets beside him to keep myself from falling into him completely.

His hand slides to my waist, gripping me firmly.

I should pull away.

I shouldn't want this.

But then—

The door bursts open.

"Oh, my God!"

We jerk apart.

Brandon groans, flopping back onto the bed.

I whip my head around—

And there stands Sofia.

Her eyes are huge, her mouth hanging open.

Kill me now.