by Blair, Zoe
“See this is why you don’t need to be on that phone at the table while I’m trying to talk to you” dad said as he re-informed me. “I told you last week that I’m going to Charlotte for the week to close this big business deal, so I’m picking Brandon up from the airport and we’re going to go out to eat before I have to jump on a plane, too” he finished as I exhaled with frustration.
“Fine,” I surrendered. Then I sulked for a moment before finally dragging my feet off to school for the day.
The next week was useless for my education. I tried to study but I couldn’t stop thinking about Brandon visiting. What if he catches me staring at his abs? I worried. What if he finds me attractive too? After all, I had grown a nice set of tits since the last time he saw me and my skin had cleared up. I shook the thoughts out of my head only to be caught off guard by them later on.
As we neared the day to pick him up from the airport, it only got worse. I started dreaming of him.
In one dream he was topless and wet like his photo, and he pressed his dripping lips to mine, pulling me close. My heart pounded and I was plagued with the knowledge that I should push him away, but that only made me want him more. His lips were electrifying and my senses were heightened since I wasn’t supposed to be tasting him at all.
Then, there was the other dream. I was sucking his perfect cock. I wrapped my lips around the head and glanced up at Brandon who was smiling. Then he placed a hand on the back of my head and said, “Oh, just like that sis.” I remember waking up in a panic shortly after he called me sis.
On Wednesday night, I hardly slept at all for fear of having another dream. I kept encouraging myself to move pas this. It was all just a harmless fantasy, one that I didn’t really want to pursue. But I couldn’t really convince myself that this was anything other than a seriously real attraction to my only sibling. Even if he wasn’t related by blood.
The ride to the airport was nerve wracking. I sat in the passenger seat, biting my nails, while Dad drove too fast.
“Aren’t you getting excited, Elle? Now that it’s actually here?” he was obviously very excited, himself. I just nodded and stared down the road to the horizon, hoping the airport would never show up. Hoping that maybe it disappeared in some alternate universe and that Brandon was a dream and that I wouldn’t ever have to be confronted with his physical form. But of course that didn’t happen and within five minutes we were pulling into the airport parking lot.
We stepped out of the car and into the burning sun. By the time we reached the doors I had hair plastered to my forehead from sweat. What a great start, I thought to myself. We found a couple of seats and watched crowds of people rush hectically around us.
I stared at my shoes while we waited. A long black scuff was on the inside, and a few short marks and creases lined the top. I couldn’t help but wonder how I must be walking in order to create such a pattern, but I didn’t get far into my thoughts.
“There he is!” Dad jumped out of his seat, pointing enthusiastically. I lifted my eyes to look for Brandon, but was only met with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. He stood tall with broad shoulders and a smile that made me melt. It took me a moment to notice that I had stopped breathing.
“Where?” I said as I tried looking around the hunk in front of us for Brandon but I didn’t see anyone else. The beautiful stranger before me was eyeing me and smiled before I quickly turned away, blushing. And then I realized why this hunk had been eyeing me.
“Brandon! Oh wow!” Dad said as he swung his arms around the beautiful guy.
Holy shit, I thought to myself. He was Brandon!
He changed completely from the slightly chubby jerk that terrorized me, and was even different from the somewhat improved college freshman that had visited before. His muscles popped from beneath his skin and his muscle tee, and his green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lighting. I tried to find a glimpse of the old Brandon in him, something that would cool my body down from the sight of him, but there wasn’t anything. Brandon had been a boy, and standing before us was a 23 year old stud that nearly made my panties wet before I’d realized who he was.
And I felt wrong for it. Brandon was family, not some possible lay. I felt like curling up in my chair with my legs tucked in as he came over to me, but I could hardly move. Somehow I found my way to my feet and joined Dad and this strange new Brandon.
“Elle, I can’t believe this. You look totally different” He said as he threw his arms around me. His deep clean musk surrounded my senses as my attention turned to my breasts being pressed up against his solid chest. The heat of his muscles overwhelmed me and I fought the urge to rest my head against his chest. I pulled away suddenly and dropped my arms to my side.
“Um, yeah you do too” I ejected a dorky grunt. My hands felt awkward so I started playing with my hair and looking to the side.
When I lived with Brandon before, I never really cared about being seen in a compromising situation in front of him. He’d seen me a million times walking around in my pajamas with my hair up, or biting my nails as I aimlessly browsed the internet; but now I’d felt myself becoming very self-conscious.
How do I look? Am I acting weird? I thought to myself frantically.
These insecurities had become kind of foreign over the years. I mean sure, I still had plenty of flare ups when I somehow looked five pounds heavier or I had a bad hair day, but I was very different from the one Brandon used to pick on.
I was nineteen now, in community college and I’d developed a full figure that was approached often by guys way hotter than my younger self could have ever dreamed.
And Brandon even seemed to notice that I was far from flat chested. I had caught his eyes wandering down to my cleavage just before we hugged. At least I think that’s where he was looking.
While I expected I’d looked different to him, I wondered if he had any idea how different he looked to me. His wide shoulders, tall strong physique, blonde hair stubble and glowing green eyes took my breath away now that they had evolved into a mature and rugged image.
Brandon even sported a couple of tattoos on his tanned arms and a dog tag around his neck that sparked my curiosity. I tried to forget about it. He’s my stepbrother, and that should be the end of it.
“Hungry?” Dad asked him.
“Yeah I could definitely eat; Elle, you hungry?” Brandon asked, turning to me.
I looked deep into his eyes and nodded. He had no idea just how hungry I was.
Chapter Two
We headed to a seafood restaurant near home that we used to go to when Brandon lived with us. I never cared for it, but I had a feeling I’d be fond of this place now that the new and improved Brandon was with us.
“Wow, this place looks exactly the same” he joked as we followed the waitress to our pirate-ship booth. “Remember all the times we came here, Elle?” I remembered. I remembered how he threw straw wrappers at me when I wasn’t looking or kicked me under the table. I remembered how he never got reprimanded because Dad was too afraid to discipline someone else’s son.
“So Brandon, I suppose you’re moving back here if you get this gig, huh?” Dad inquired, scooting inside the seat. My heart stopped at this news. Brandon moving back to Florida?
“Yep, it’s pretty exciting, huh? It’s going to be nice to be back home,” Brandon smiled across the table at me, as I wondered how he could ever think of Miami as his home.
I must have looked awkward as his eyes met mine; deep, green and confident as hell. It was enough to make me slide down in my seat, uncertain of my own newly acquired confidence.
“So Elle, what’s the 411?” he laughed. “Dad says you’ve got a boyfriend and you’re looking into going to Emory in the fall?” Brandon said.
“Yeah, pretty much” I said, laughing nervously as he peered into my eyes.
I was kicking myself inside. Come on Elle. He’s just your brother. Plenty of women have attractive brothers, but that doesn’t change anything!
&n
bsp; “Well, we kind of broke up” I said as Dad’s hands fell to the table in disbelief. I caught a smile forming in the corner of Brandon’s lips.
“Andrew broke up with you? Oh sweetie” Dad started, but I interrupted.
“Dad seriously, it’s not a big deal, he was an ass” I shot back, not wanting to discuss it in front of Brandon or dad.
“Elle you know what I said about using that word” Dad pointed his finger out.
“It’s a perfectly harmless word” I debated him on the origin of language and how words are formed. He turned to Brandon, laughing.
“She’s Emory material, huh?” He elbowed Brandon.
“You know dad, Emory isn’t cheap,” Brandon grew stern.
“Not with a scholarship,” he proudly pointed out. “Elle worked really hard and ended up with one of the highest GPA’s in the state; they were falling over themselves to hand her one” he boasted.
“Well, I guess keeping your nose buried in books all these years really paid off, Elle?” He asked as I played with my hair, shrugging. “So why are you at the community college?”
“I wanted to get a few of my basics out of the way over the summer, just to get a head start, you know?” I felt my hands trembling as he watched me talking.
Brandon’s gaze seemed to be lingering on me longer than required by a casual conversation, and there was a fire in his eyes I’d never seen before. I swore I could feel tension coming from his side of the table, too.
But it only made me more nervous, and as I looked away, I felt the heat of blush coming to my face. I knew I needed to say something to take the attention off me, so I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.
“Uh, what kind of job are you getting, anyway?” It wasn’t a bad choice, thankfully.
Brandon smiled wide and all I could think about was how much I wanted to plaster my face to his and feel his body wrapped around me.
“Well, I received my degree in Kinesiology and then I spent some time doing research in a myofascial program and-” Brandon was really getting into it just as Dad chimed in excitedly to simplify it.
“He’s a massage therapist; isn’t that cool, Elle?” Dad said as Brandon laughed, shrugging. He looked a little embarrassed but brushed it off quickly.
“Well, it’s not exactly like that but almost. I’ll have to give you a massage while I’m here, if you want, Elle” Brandon added as his eyes held on to me once more. I could feel myself turning red again, completely giving it away when I dropped my fork nervously onto the plate. The loud clanging seemed to attract the attention of the entire restaurant, making matters worse.
A light tingle crawled up my thighs at the thought of Brandon massaging me; the familiar warm electric feeling in my core hinted at a spark or two as I suddenly felt horny.
Elle, stop it! He’s family, move on.
I had to keep reprimanding myself all through dinner as we scarfed our food down. I continued to fight my lingering eyes that were trying to undress my stud step-brother. I couldn’t look at him for two seconds without imagining those ripped abs from the picture I saw of him.
After dinner we headed back to the house and less than an hour later, Dad was headed out the door, hugging me then Brandon. I had almost forgotten that I’d be home alone with Brandon this whole time. I felt pained with desire and sick with worry. I reminded myself that nothing would happen, but my body didn’t believe me.
“I’m going to miss you so much, but you remember to be a good hostess for Brandon and I’ll see you Wednesday night,” Dad said as his carpool honked impatiently at the end of the driveway.
He closed the door behind him and suddenly it was just me and Brandon, alone.
Brandon didn’t say a word to me, but instead walked to the sofa and turned on the T.V. I stood in the foyer deciding whether to stay with Brandon or head up to my room to read. I decided to stay.
I went to join him on the sofa where he was watching television, and noticed that he was watching some political talk show; something the old Brandon wouldn’t have done if his life depended on it.
No, the Brandon I knew when I was younger watched sports. Or sometimes he’d hog the television to watch his oafish reality shows about greased up meatheads living in some downtown la-la land where drama was the only reality.
I’d be sitting on the sofa, turning my nose up to it as I tried to stay focused on my sci-fi novel. But as I now sat next to the older Brandon, he seemed like the more intelligent one, and it was only increasing my attraction to him.
The political pundit’s monotone jargon went straight over my head, but I was secretly turned on by the occasional witty remarks Brandon made at the television.
“They should know better than to try that in Serbia, especially considering what happened, especially after swindling the voters in the southern part of the country” he’d say, looking over to me for some kind of approval.
“What’s your take on it? Do you follow this stuff?” He asked me, sounding excited.
“Um, sometimes” I blatantly lied. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but his intelligence mixed with those damned dreamy looks and new sense of maturity could have me spinning lies left and right.
“I just think they should stop fighting” I guessed at a vague answer. His eyes lit up.
“See, that’s exactly what I’ve been saying. They drew the party lines completely wrong and now there are warring factions all over the place,” he said as I nodded, utterly terrified I was going to look like an idiot. Why am I even trying so hard? I wondered. But one look at Brandon reminded me of the answer.
Every movement Brandon seemed to make was intent and confident. I wondered where this new interest in news and politics came from. Maybe they were dormant during his jock days and he had feared exploring them. Brandon was more intriguing by the moment. As he talked, I involuntarily matched the last couple of boyfriends I’d had up against Brandon, and they all looked like little boys next to him. All of my exes acted their age or younger. They played video games, teased jokingly, and had little aspiration beyond where to grab a burger that night. I would’ve guessed Brandon to be even more immature than them, but he suddenly seemed wise beyond his years.
Andrew, my most recent ex, turned out to be just another horn ball jerk. I thought he saw something special in me, but as it turned out, he had eyes for any girl that would give him attention. During our relationship, one girl was a cheerleader named Reagan.
Reagan was one of those girls who lived for trying to steal boys away from their girlfriends, and for a while I’d only heard second-hand stories of her antics. But after a house party last week, I found out for myself how conniving she could be.
I had volunteered to take my friend Chrissie home after she’d had a little too much to drink. I made Andrew, knowing how he liked to drink, promise me that he was also leaving before he got too bad.
“Babe, don’t worry about it; damn,” he told me, annoyed as he drunkenly stumbled over every word. “You got me on a dog collar babe, damn” he finally said, which was a little infuriating, but I excused it to his drunken buzz.
I knew better than to assume alcohol was completely to blame for his behavior. He frequently spoke down to me but any time we’d argue over it he’d eventually apologize. I guess I was just waiting for the day he finally kept his promise to treat me better.
I kissed him on the cheek and we left.
Next thing I know, it’s the following morning and I’ve got texts from all of Andrew’s friends saying that Reagan had sucked his dick at the party. My follow up texts were full of questions.
How did they find out? Did someone walk in on them?
Are they sure it wasn’t a different couple?
How could he do this to me?
