Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series

by Sweet, Izzy

  Andrew frowns, concerned. He reaches out and tenderly strokes my cheek. Even now, I want to purr like a cat and rub against him.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod my head.

  His fingers start to trail down my cheek. He follows the line of my jaw, then runs them along my neck. They tug at the top of the blanket then slip beneath. He drags his tips down, following the cleft between my breasts.

  “Raincheck?” he asks.

  I can hear him breathing now. My eyes glance down and yep, there’s a bulge in his pants. If I’m uncomfortable, he must be suffering just as bad.

  “Depends…” I smirk.

  Andrew lifts a brow, “Depends on what?”

  His hand covers my right breast. He squeezes and it takes every ounce of inner strength I have to keep from groaning.

  “It depends on what kind of mood I’m in,” I manage to breathe out and then promptly bite my lip.

  “Ah, I see,” he says sagely and gives my breast another delicious squeeze. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day without thinking about you.”

  I let go and the blanket slithers down my arms and falls to the floor.

  The look on Andrew’s face is priceless. I feel so powerful. I could so get used to this.

  “I’m sure you’ll manage,” I say sweetly.

  Andrew kisses me savagely and then makes his exit. I hear him cursing all the way to the elevator.

  Chapter Thirteen

  AJ: Make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, just shoot me a text.

  It’s jarring, even after last night and this morning, to receive a text from Andrew but to have it marked as “AJ”. I stare at the words for a moment, letting my brain wrap around it.

  Now that Andrew is gone, I can think more clearly. There’s something about being around him and having him near me that makes my brain fog up. It must be the increase in my blood pressure and my hormones taking me over.

  Doubt is starting to sink in. What am I doing? I look around at the empty bedroom. What good can possibly come from all of this?

  My phone vibrates, drawing my attention. Andrew has sent me another text.

  AJ: Last night was the best night of my life. Can’t wait to come home to you.

  Wow. The best night of his life? I have to swallow back the surge of emotion that hits me. My fingers stumble as I type him back.

  Me: Ditto

  Best not to look too desperate. I already can’t leave. All the doors are unlocked, there’s nothing or no one to stop me but myself.

  Nothing to stop me but my heart.

  There’s something about Andrew. Something that draws me to him. I know he’s bad for me, I do. I know, I’m probably going to be the one who gets hurt when this is all over, but I can’t walk away. For whatever reason, I just can’t do it.

  My heart wants him. My brain knows he’s bad for me in the same way that I know that brownies go straight to my thighs and stick to my ass. But that doesn’t stop me from reaching for them. Life is short, indulge now and regret later.

  My phone remains silent. Andrew is either busy at work or just has nothing else to say to me. I look around his bedroom. There’s nothing for it. I can’t leave, so I might as well do exactly as he suggested. I’ll make myself comfortable and maybe do a little snooping.

  First on the to-do list is a shower. I wrap the blanket around me and walk to what I assume is the bathroom. It’s enormous. There’s a bathtub that’s the size of a small swimming pool and the entire back wall appears to be a shower. I’ve never seen anything like it. Half of me is tempted to soak myself in a long hot bath, but the shower is so big, I have to check it out.

  I drop the blanket, just leaving it on the floor, and step into the shower. There’s like ten different knobs and I have no idea what any of them do. None of them are labeled. I turn one and water starts to shoot out at my hip. It’s cold and I squeal but it quickly starts to warm so I endure it.

  Once the water is at a comfortable temperature, I experiment with the other knobs. I get blasted in the face, which sucks, but once I’ve got them all turned on, I’m getting sprayed from every direction.

  The shower is lovely, and I could so get used to it. The warmth of the water starts to seep into my bones and I stand for what feels like forever, just enjoying it. The water stays warm. I don’t even know how many minutes have gone by, but I do eventually realize I should probably find something to wash myself with. Water itself just isn’t going to cut it.

  I look around and notice there is shelving built into the wall within arm’s reach and it’s loaded with bottles. The first bottle I grab is clearly meant for a man. I pop the top and sniff it. It smells just like Andrew. Cool and crisp, I remember smelling it as I buried my face into his neck. I start to warm. I quickly close the bottle and put it back before the trip down memory lane gets me so worked up I have to turn this lovely shower into a cold one.

  My eyes scan the bottles. The top shelves are loaded with dark bottles labeled with bold letters, all very masculine. The bottom shelf, however, is covered with more feminine bottles. Slender bottles, featuring pictures of flowers and flowy script.

  Why does Andrew have products that are clearly meant for a woman? Did he plan on me being here? Or does he keep it for someone else?

  The thought of another woman almost sends me into a jealous fit. Just imagining anyone else touching him, anyone else staying here and using this shower, makes me see red. Thankfully, my brain decides to step up and reason kicks in. If there was another woman, she’s no longer around. I’m here now and I was the best night he ever had.

  Andrew is a notorious playboy. Every weekend, he has a new girl on his arm and in his bed. I shouldn’t take it personal. What’s in the past is in the past. And right now, it’s to my benefit.

  I grab up a bottle, it’s fairly heavy and feels full. I pop the top and it smells amazing. I check the label and it says it’s a shampoo scented with awapuhi, whatever that is. I lather my hair up, rinse it out, and then condition it. By the time I step out of the shower, I feel soft and clean, and ready to start snooping.

  I start in Andrew’s closet and help myself to one of his shirts. I choose a blue, long sleeve dress shirt. I roll up the sleeves and wear it as a dress. The shirt is a little short, the bottom hem hitting me at mid-thigh, but it works. Then I start to poke around in his drawers.

  There is a disappointing lack of personal items in Andrew’s drawers. There are plenty of cuff links, ties, watches, and pins, but I find nothing personal. Nothing that seems sentimental or gives me a clue to what kind of person he really is.

  After coming up empty handed in the closet, I move on to the bedroom. I check his night stands, underneath his bed, and his dresser. There’s nothing of interest. I don’t even find a stash of porn. It’s seriously weird.

  Where are all his mementos?

  After searching the living room, perusing his blockbuster DVD collection, and checking out his kitchen utensils, I end up more confused than anything else. The refrigerator is completely bare. There’s not even a packet of ketchup or leftover Chinese takeout. Thankfully the sink dispenses water or I’d be completely out of luck.

  Andrew’s apartment is clean and luxurious, but it feels somehow sterile. There’s nothing in the apartment laying claim that it’s even his. No pictures, no personal items with names, I can’t find a thing that points to him or shows that he’s even the owner. How can someone even live like this?

  I’m not necessarily a sentimental creature myself but I do acquire things as I live every day. The things I acquire no doubt give little clues about me, my personal life, and how I go about. I know in my own apartment there are old receipts, pictures of my friends during our days in school, and things from my mother. I may even have an old teddy bear or two, to snuggle up to on those nights that feel lonelier than others.

  If you were to snoop around my apartment, you would eventually come to the conclusion that I lived there. Such
a conclusion seems impossible to reach in Andrew’s apartment. I’m almost willing to bet it actually takes a great deal of effort for him to keep his own residence so impersonal.

  I’m just about to give up. I’m just about to call it a day, veg out on his couch, and call out for some pizza when I hit the jackpot. Tucked way back in a kitchen drawer of all places is a picture.

  I almost don’t catch it. My fingers slide across the surface and that’s when it registers something is different, something does not have the same grainy texture as the wood. Using my fingernail, I gently pry the picture off the bottom of the drawer and pull it out.

  I don’t know how to feel after looking at it. It’s a picture of me. It was taken the first night my mother introduced me to Andrew and his father. WTF

  Chapter Fourteen

  I stare hard at the picture. In the picture my face is half turned, I clearly don’t realize my picture is being taken. Even now I don’t remember him taking it. I can’t even pinpoint when he did it.

  Why does Andrew have a secret picture of me stashed in his kitchen drawer? The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  The first night my mother introduced me to Andrew and his father, Jack, we all met up in a fancy restaurant to introduce ourselves and get to know each other. It was so long ago, it’s been like two years.

  I was still a junior in high school. I wasn’t thrilled that my mother was getting remarried, but the way she gushed about Jack, I tried my best to act happy for her. Just a minute after meeting Jack, it was really hard to do.

  Jack seemed to be a few years older than my mom. All of his hair had turned to gray already. His skin had that tight look to it with wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and wrinkles around the corners of his mouth. He dressed well, though. He wore a nice suit to our dinner and a very expensive gold and diamond watch around his wrist. I felt very dressed down in my blouse and pants.

  I remember shaking hands with Jack and he held my hand for just a little too long. Though his grip was hard, the skin of his hand felt soft and clammy. The way he looked at me, my hand trapped in his, made my skin crawl. He was taller than me and he could have very well been looking down the gap in my blouse, ogling my breasts. When he finally let my hand go, all I wanted to do was wipe it off on my pants.

  Jack showed up before Andrew. The three of us, me, my mom and Jack, were seated at a table. We ordered drinks and appetizers, and with my mom fawning all over him, Jack attempted to charm me.

  It didn’t work.

  I tried, I really did, to be receptive to Jack. I laughed at his awful jokes and did my best to seem interested in his boring stories about his boring clients, but I found it difficult to maintain eye contact. And I’m not a great actress.

  For the life of me I couldn’t understand what my mom saw in him. He was boring and creepy and old. She could do so much better. I started to tune the two of them out. Jack, sensing I wasn’t really interested in talking to him, turned his attention to my mom. They started getting disgustingly cozy next to each other until they were practically sitting in each other’s lap.

  I began to strategize. How was I going to convince my mom not to go through with the marriage? I was lost in my thoughts when Andrew finally arrived.

  “Hailey!” My mom yelled at me to get my attention.

  I jumped in my seat, dropping my fork. I had been digging into my steak and nearly choked to death.

  I started coughing and before I knew what was happening, two strong arms pulled me from my chair. Those strong arms wrapped around me and whoever was behind me started to administer the Heimlich.

  Two fists slammed into me, lifting me off my feet. Whoever was doing it to me didn’t know what the hell they were doing and if they didn’t stop they were going to crack all my ribs.

  “Stop!” I cried out and struggled against the overzealous Good Samaritan.

  Again, their fists slammed into me. Chaos erupted around us.

  “Hey, she’s alright, let her go!”

  “I think you’re hurting her.”

  “I can breathe!” I wheezed out.

  “What the Hell is going on?!”

  It took a minute or two for my would-be rescuer to understand I didn’t need rescuing and when he put me down on my feet and apologized to me, I suppose that’s when Andrew and I official met.

  Our eyes locked and I thought we had a moment. The rest of the world fell away. There was only me and him. Damn, he was gorgeous. He was dressed like his dad, expensive suit, nice tie, big clunky watch around his wrist. But his tie was loose and his cuffs were open.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and his eyes searched my face. Then his eyes traveled down, scorching my body with heat.

  I swooned on my feet. Andrew reached out and steadied me. Then Jack had to go and ruin it.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  Andrew’s hands fell away from me as if I burned him or something, and he stepped back. He turned his face from me and locked eyes with his father. I just stood there stupidly, blinking, not understanding what was going on.

  “I made a mistake,” Andrew said coolly.

  I watched his face harden and the chill of his countenance had me taking a step back. I crossed my arms protectively over my chest.

  “Jack, he didn’t mean any harm…” Mom said and laid her hand upon Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack shook her hand off and stood from the table. “I don’t care what he meant.”

  Andrew looked at me and then he looked at his dad.

  His eyes narrowed, “Fuck this.”

  Before I could stop him, he spun on his heel and left.

  I wanted to run after him. I watched him weave between the tables before he disappeared in the crush at the front of the restaurant, pushing through those waiting to be seated. I took a step forward, opened my mouth to call out, but Jack beat me to it.

  “Ungrateful shit!”

  Both my mom and I gasped. The entire restaurant went quiet as the other people dining that night digested what Jack just said. Then the noise of conversation rose louder than before, reaching new crescendos. I knew we were the topic of conversation. My ears burned with the knowledge.

  Jack seemed to be completely unfazed by it. He sat back down at the table, picked up his fork and muttered under his breath. “Just like his mother.”

  Me, I was wondering what the heck just happened. I had the strongest urge to run after Andrew, throw myself at him, and apologize for his own father’s behavior. My mother, however, gave me a look as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. I could run after the man who just tried to rescue me, but I didn’t even know who he was at the moment. So I did what was expected of me, I didn’t want to cause my mother or myself any further embarrassment. I returned to my seat at the table.

  The rest of our dinner was eaten mostly in silence. Jack would stop, clear his throat as if he meant to say something, then seemingly think better of it and return to eating or drinking. My mother and I would share little glances. After some time, I was quite convinced she had seen the true face of the man she meant to marry and I hoped she was thinking better of it.

  After that night, Andrew never looked at me the same way again. The next time we met, he actually treated me quite awful. He insulted my looks, the way I was dressed, and even said I wasn’t qualified for my position. I remember quite clearly returning home in tears after my first day in the office because of him.

  Surprisingly and disappointedly, my mom still ended up marrying Jack.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AJ: Is Chinese okay? I’m running a bit late today.

  I’m stretched out on the couch. I must have fallen asleep and I must have been drooling during my nap. What time is it?

  I sit up, grab up the remote and click the big screen TV off. I was watching Spanish soap operas with the sound down before I fell asleep. It was amusing trying to figure out what the women were saying. They were so beautiful and so dramatic. Not to mention the guys were hot. Now there�
�s some weird game show on that I’m so not interested in.

  I toss the remote to the side and pick up my buzzing phone. Yay, it's Andrew. What time is it? Before texting him back, I check my clock. It’s 6:30 pm.

  Me: Sure, that sounds great. When will you be home?

  AJ: Soon

  I hesitate, unsure of how to text him back. Part of me wants to tell him to hurry up, I’ve missed him, and please be safe. The other part of me wants to hold back, protect myself. This isn’t forever. I’m not his girlfriend. I end up sending him:

  Me: Ok, see ya then

  Soon could be five minutes or it could be another hour. I jump up from the couch and take care of business. First, I check myself out in the mirror and freshen up. Once that’s done, I return to the kitchen, trash the leftover pizza I ordered for lunch and left out, and finally I double check on the picture in the drawer.

  Before my nap, I had put the picture back right where I found it but I’m paranoid so I feel the need to double check. I open the drawer and slip my fingers in just to be sure. Yep, it's right where I left it. Hopefully, Andrew never realizes I found it. Though, I will have to find a way to ask him about it. It’s so weird.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I hear Andrew call out and just hearing his voice has my heart skipping.

  I push away from the kitchen counter just as he walks in. Our eyes lock, he smiles. My insides melt into a gooey mess.

  “Did you miss me?” he asks as he dumps the plastic bag he’s carrying on to the table and confidently approaches me.

  “Maybe…” I say coyly and smirk at him.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

  Andrew’s grin grows wider and he pulls me into his arms. His hands slide around my back. He boldly places his palms on my ass and squeezes before pulling me against his chest.

  “I missed you,” he groans and then his head drops.