I’m In Love With My Brother’s Best Friend?! – Episode 06
The bathroom seemed to contract around Kaitlyn. She fought to remain upright while Brent stood between her and the only exit. The bass from the party vibrated through the tiles, cruelly close yet useless when no one could hear her clearly. When she demanded that he leave again, he dismissed her refusal as though it were merely another delay in a bargain she had never made.
She reminded him that she had waited because intimacy was her decision, not a prize for his patience. Instead of respecting that truth, he had cheated. Now he had followed her into a locked room when she could barely stand. Each fact stripped another layer from the boyfriend she once believed she loved.
Brent’s gaze dropped to her green dress. He accused her of wearing it to provoke men and called her a tease. Kaitlyn told him the dress made her feel confident and had nothing to do with him. Clothing was not consent, and his resentment did not create a right to touch her.
Outside, Cole pushed through the crowded house, calling Kaitlyn’s name. Students stepped aside at the sight of his expression. A cluster of women blocked the hallway, more interested in why Cole Hart cared about a freshman than in helping him find her.
One asked whether he meant the short girl in the green dress. Cole answered at once: five foot two, dark hair, green eyes, black eyeliner. The specificity surprised even him. He had noticed every detail while pretending not to look.
The women laughed that a man famous for forgetting admirers’ names somehow remembered Kaitlyn’s makeup. One suggested he could do much better. Cole stopped and fixed her with a gaze cold enough to erase her smile. He warned her not to cross his line, then demanded an answer.
Inside the bathroom, Kaitlyn tried to reach the door. Brent caught her arm, and she tore it away despite the dizziness. She told him she would never take him back. The certainty in her voice made him understand that he had truly lost her, and the realization fed his anger rather than his remorse.
He advanced until the sink trapped her. Kaitlyn’s legs trembled, but she held his stare. Fear moved through her body alongside the drug, yet she refused to let him mistake weakness for surrender. She repeated the word no with all the force she had left.
A student finally hurried toward Cole and pointed down the corridor. He had seen Kaitlyn enter the bathroom, he said, and another man had followed. Cole did not wait to hear a name. He broke into a run.
The hallway stretched endlessly in front of him. Every terrible possibility arrived at once, accompanied by the certainty that he had wasted time arguing about a dress when he should have made sure she was safe. Ryan had trusted him, but that guilt was smaller than the raw fear of losing Kaitlyn herself.
Brent reached toward his waistband while telling Kaitlyn to stop fighting. Her stomach turned. She grabbed the nearest object from the counter, though her hand lacked the strength to hold it securely. If he came closer, she would use whatever remained to defend herself.
Cole reached the second door on the left and tried the handle. Locked. He pounded once and called Kaitlyn’s name. A faint sound from inside—part plea, part struggle—destroyed the last of his restraint.
He drove his shoulder into the door. The frame groaned but held. On the second impact, the lock tore free and the door slammed against the wall. Music continued elsewhere in the house, but inside the bathroom everything went silent.
Brent spun around. Cole stood in the broken doorway, chest heaving from the run. His eyes passed over Brent and found Kaitlyn pressed against the sink, pale, unfocused, and terrified. The sight changed something in his face.
“Cole,” she breathed. Relief weakened her knees more effectively than the drug. She had held herself upright because she had no alternative; now that he was there, her body finally tried to surrender. Cole moved toward her, but Brent remained in the way.
For one suspended moment, Cole took in every detail: the locked door, Brent’s position, Kaitlyn’s inability to stand, and the fear she had tried to hide. He understood without needing an explanation. Fury settled over him, quiet and absolute.
Brent lifted his hands and attempted a careless smile. He claimed Kaitlyn was drunk and that he had only been helping. Cole did not believe a word. The drugged confusion in her eyes bore no resemblance to ordinary drinking, and Brent’s panic betrayed him.
Cole stepped into the room and ordered him away from her. His voice was low enough to be more frightening than a shout. Brent tried to protest, but Cole’s attention had narrowed to the hand still hovering near Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn watched the man she had loved as a girl become someone formidable enough to make Brent retreat. She wanted to tell Cole everything, yet language refused to cooperate. All she managed was his name again.
Cole closed the remaining distance, placing himself between Kaitlyn and danger. His eyes never left Brent as he asked one measured question: “What do you think you’re doing?” Kaitlyn saw that his hands were steady despite the rage in his face, as though he were holding himself together for her sake alone. For the first time that night, Brent looked genuinely afraid—and Cole had not even touched him yet.