by Opal Carew
Everyone had laughed. Yep, everyone, including Chris, the guy who’d actually finally smiled at me moments before. I remember sprawling in an undignified heap on the floor, looking up at him with dismay.
He’d had the decency to look a bit ashamed. But it hadn’t stopped him from laughing.
Camilla had helped me up and ushered me into the bathroom so I could cry it out. And in the midst of my ugly crying, I’d realized how uncool I really was. See, someone like Camilla? She was cool for the very fact that she didn’t give a shit about being cool. She didn’t hang with the cheerleaders or anything, but she did her own thing without caring what others thought… and people seemed to respect that.
She would have laughed this off , maybe even taken the offensive panties off and flung them at the nearest hottie.
But me? This was devastating. The thought of heading back out there made me physically ill.
Chris would never go out with me, let alone like me. And while I knew I shouldn’t give a flying fuck what other people thought, I did. And it really fucking hurt.
I sent Camilla out while I swiped at the raccoon streaks of mascara under my eyes, then gave up and just scrubbed all my makeup off with soap and water. There was no point in pretending to be someone I so clearly wasn’t.
I opened the door to the bathroom to find Seth lounging against the wall in the hallway. I very nearly turned around and went back in. I hadn’t known he’d be at the party, and somehow the fact that he might have seen my little debacle was a million times more mortifying than being in that living room with a ton of high school kids laughing at me.
“Don’t. Just don’t say anything.” Putting my best bitch face on, I held up a hand, making it clear that this wasn’t open for discussion—I couldn’t handle being mocked.
“Hey.” One of those big rough hands of his snaked out, caught me around the arm. I huffed out a sigh as he tugged me close to him, close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath, smell the tang of liquor that told me he’d been drinking already. “I just got here. I heard what happened. You okay?”
Boys. Was I okay? Yeah, not.
He was there, and I needed a target. Trying to shove his arm away, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I’ve always dreamt of showing off my undies to the entire school. Especially to the one guy I’d kinda hoped might get to see them in a slightly different situation.”
Oh God. Why had I said that? That just made it worse.
His fingers on my arm tightened, just the slightest bit. But he didn’t say anything, instead just handing me a shot glass. Finally releasing me, he poured a hefty measure of tequila into it.
“Drink this.” He waited, eyes burning into mine until finally I shrugged and lifted the tiny glass to my lips. I sipped, and my eyes started to water.
“Not like that.” Taking the glass from my hand, he pressed it to his own mouth, and downed it in one smooth swallow. Watching the muscles in his throat work as he drank had me shifting, the fabric of my dress suddenly uncomfortably tight.
He poured another glass and handed it back. Our fingers brushed as he did, and I felt a lightning bolt surge through my system.
“Good girl.” His eyes remained on me as I lifted the shot, tossed it back, and shuddered my way through it. He poured another, and I repeated.
Fuzzy warmth was starting to spread through me. I reached for the bottle Seth held, suddenly eager for another, but he pulled it back.
“Nuh-huh.” He pinned me with those icy eyes of his. “Just two. Loosen you up enough to walk back through that living room, head held high like you don’t give a damn. And you shouldn’t. Cause all those jerks? They’re going to be pumping your gas someday. No joke.”
“I—” I’d blinked, stunned at this—this kindness, from Seth of all people.
“Let’s go.” Before I’d even realized what was happening, Seth had had his arm around me, was accompanying me on that shameful walk back through the living room. He glared around at everyone as he did, making it quite clear what he thought about anyone who would dare say a word… and to be honest, I don’t think anyone would have. Seth was the school bad ass. The one no one messed with.
This was like… like he was putting his stamp on me. Saying that anyone who messed with me, messed with him, and while my inner feminist should have been outraged, in that moment, all I could do was be grateful.
“You.” At the front door, he pointed a finger at Camilla, gesturing for her to come running. Of course she did, sizing him up all the way—and I couldn’t blame her. Most girls were drawn to Seth. I was no different.
“Take her home. If you’ve been drinking, call her a cab.” He glared down at Camilla before returning his attention to me. “And you. If some asshole can’t bring himself to help a woman off the floor, he’s not worth the dirt beneath her feet. You got me?”
And then he was gone, melting back into the crowd. But I was pretty sure I’d felt his gaze on me, watching as I got into a cab and left.
It had felt… it had felt like something, at least to me.
I guess it hadn’t to him, though, because he’d gone off and fucked Ashley Barnett. And now he was here again, torturing me, reminding me of last night. Clearly nice Seth only came out to play when I waved my undies in the air in public.
It crushed me.
Grabbing my things, I glare and get to my feet, brushing at the blades of grass that cling to my legs, belatedly realizing that all I’m wearing is my bathing suit. It’s not indecent, as in, it’s not nearly as revealing as anything Camilla would wear—it’s just a simple two-piece, plain and white. But it shows off my flat stomach, the curves of the hips that I don’t like, the swells of breasts that I wish were bigger.
I think he’ll realize that I’m just in my bathing suit, and avert his gaze. Instead he keeps looking at me, not like a lech or anything, just… intent.
I don’t like it. His gaze makes my belly clench and my heart thump hard. I’m dangerously close to throwing myself at him, no matter what my brain is screaming at me. My too-young-to-control-it body is about to self-combust.
I go to step around him, to return to the house, but he reaches out toward me. I freeze. His fingers brush lightly against my cheek as he pulls a long piece of grass from my hair. I watch, transfixed, as he lets it flutter to the ground, his pale eyes never leaving mine.
I gulp. How can someone be so intense? It seems almost impossible, but I can’t deny it. I can’t deny him. He affects me in ways I really don’t understand, in ways I’m not even close to ready to discover.
This… this is different from the schoolgirl mooning I’ve been doing over my stepbrother. This is a glimpse into the real Seth, and what I see makes me want more.
I’m so not ready for more.
My face flames bright red, the curse of my fair complexion. I know by the slight twitch of his lips that my cheeks are probably as red as my burnt shoulder.
I’m about to open my mouth and say something regrettable, but I’m saved by the timely interruption of my other brother.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I jerk away from Seth as if he’d burnt me to find Theo, frowning down at the pair of us from the balcony that leads to his bedroom. Talk about intense, he looks like he’s about to jump off that balcony and beat Seth to a pulp if I just say the word.
I look sideways at Seth, looking for… something. Anything to tell me that these feelings don’t belong to me alone.
Instead, the Seth that draws me to him is gone again, and he’s giving me that patented aloof smirk that he shows to anyone and everyone.
It hurts. And I don’t know what to do with it.
Looking up at Theo, I shake my head. “Nothing. Seth was just being his usual jerkface self.”
Brushing past my tormentor, I retreat into the house. But I can feel his gaze on me the whole time.
Chapter 2
Seth
Groaning, I roll over in my bed at the insistent knock at my door. Glancing at my watch on the bedside tabl
e I find that it’s eleven o’clock in the morning. Who the hell is bugging me so early? Everyone knows I don’t wake up until way past noon.
The knocking continues and my mom’s voice comes through the door. “Seth. I know you’re in there. I’ll keep knocking until you open the door.”
Sitting up, I rub at my face. I roll out of bed because I know she’ll be true to her word and I already have a pounding headache. Serves me right for all the beer I drank last night. I blame Tristan. Every time we hang out, I wake up the next morning hung over.
Deep down, I know I can’t lay the blame on anyone but myself. It’s been a week since that party that Allegra should never have been at, a week since I saw her look at me in a way that intensified the feelings that I needed to lock down. And so every night I’ve been drinking myself into stupidity, hooking up with random girls from school who know the score, but who want to spend a night with me anyway. Those are the kind of girls I can allow into my world, the ones who know what the fuck they’re doing.
Not sweet little innocents who have likely never been kissed.
Don’t even go there.
I click the thumb lock that we both know could be sprung with a screwdriver and open the door. My mom stands on the other side, and she does not look pleased. “What?”
“Is that anyway to say hello to your mom?” She pushes past me and into my room, though technically it’s kind of my apartment. It has a refrigerator and a hotplate even, not that I know how to cook. When I first showed up the Flynns’ doorstep, I stayed in the spare room, which was Sam’s office den. It didn’t take him long to fix up the empty apartment over the garage for me to live in, even though Mom said she’d been nagging him to get it done since they’d moved in.
Yeah. Pretty transparent. What he didn’t like was me in the same house as his daughter. Just like back in Boston—same shit, different place.
But in this case? Sam had made a good call. Cause though I had absolutely no intention of ever acting on it, because that would make me the biggest pervert on the planet, never mind asshole of the century…
Well. The fact remained that Allegra was hot. More than that, when she looked at me with those big doe eyes, I felt something… different. Like I wanted something… different.
It was fucking uncomfortable, and it was just better all around if I was out of the way.
“Good morning Mother.” I school my voice into the most polite of tones, which sounds like nails on chalkboard when combined with my thick Boston accent. She grins at me, this woman who is still kind of a stranger to me, and then clears off a stack of magazines and dirty clothes from the easy chair that’s held together by duct tape and sits down.
“You should really clean in here. Come summer you’ll have rats and who knows what living in here with you.” The Boston in her own voice has faded a bit over the last few years, replaced by a hint of a drawl that is pure Texas.
“Sweet. I crave the company.” Smirking, I grab the pack of cigarettes from the counter and light one up.
Her face creases with parental disapproval. “You should quit. You remember Uncle Ian died from lung cancer.”
Irritation flashes through me, followed quickly by a thread of panic. I’ve never been one to kowtow, but… well, this is it. I have nowhere else to go if Mom and Sam throw me out, too.
So I butt out the smoke in the ashtray. “There. Happy?”
“Almost.” She gives me her sweetest smile—the smile I’ve come to know is the most deceiving expression ever.
“What do you want?” I ask this carefully, but really, I know I’ll do anything she asks. I tolerate my real dad. But it’s always been my mom who’s held my heart. The years I spent away from her were what made me a little crazy. Not that I’d ever tell her that, though—she doesn’t need the guilt. Putting up with my father for so many years, she’s gone through quite enough.
“Come to the house for dinner tonight.” She smiles again, and I groan internally.
I’ve made a point of avoiding the house lately. For reason that don’t need to be validated by acknowledging them.
“I’m busy tonight.” My fingers tap nervously on my thigh—I want that cigarette, damn it.
She frowns. “You are not. You’re just making excuses so you don’t have to spend time with the family.”
“That’s not my family.” The reaction is kneejerk, but it’s how I feel. Sam? Well, he’s an okay guy. But I’m kinda old to start calling him Daddy.
Theo is an asshole who can’t stop strutting his stuff like some damn rooster in a cock fight. You know, cause I care.
And Allegra? Given the way I feel about her—that I feel anything for her at all?
Yeah. You know what? Let’s not even go there.
I expect Mom to be pissed off at my asshole comment, but instead she reaches for my hand in a rare show of affection. I’m not used to her touching me, not in the past few years anyway. Not that I blame her. I was pretty much a dick to her, especially after she divorced my dad. A shrink would say that I was trying to push her away all the while hoping she’d make the big play and show me she still loved me. But that shit backfired hard, and I wound up with some real mommy issues.
I’ll never forget some of the choice names I’d called her in the past, things that now make me cringe with shame. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make it up to her.
“Yes it is, Seth. If you would just give them a chance. I’ve always regretted not having more children. But here you have a brother in Theo and a sister in Allegra.” She smiles at me and I wince.
How do I tell my mom that I really, really don’t think of Allegra as my sister? That I never have, not since the day I rang the doorbell to this house and she answered it, dressed in a little yellow sundress, with glasses perched on her nose?
I wished I’d known more about her before I’d come to Galveston—that way I would have had some warning. But I’d been expecting some dorky kid sister with frizzy hair who played with dolls or whatever else young girls door. Not a sassy redhead who’d looked at me not like I was dirt, but as though she was trying to figure me out with that busy little brain of hers.
Yeah. If I’d had some warning, I would have seen her as a sister figure from the start. Instead I’d mistaken her for a freaking babysitter, never imaging she was my brand new sister—I’d responded to her like I’d never responded to another human being.
Joy to the fucking world.
And now, no matter how much I actively try to suppress it, the little witch still sneaks into my dreams. That the way she looks at me sometimes, with that bitchy expression while she’s blushing, makes me hard. Just catching a whiff of her shampoo drives me crazy.
Nope. Can’t be confessing that shit. They’ll toss me in jail.
And I’d give them the key. That girl? She has no business with me, or anyone like me. I glower as I think of the asshole she’s been not so secretly crushing on. She deserves better than a guy like that.
And dinner at the house—being around Allegra? It’ll just cause her to show up in my dreams again tonight. Not good for anyone.
So I pull my hand away and run it through my mess of hair. “I’ll think about it.”
“Please do.” Mom stands, wipes her hands on the thighs of her shorts. “I’m making chimichangas. Your favorite.” She smiles, and then pushes out the door, shouting over her shoulder as she goes. “Clean your room!”
I snort, a suppressed chuckle. Once she’s gone, I light up another cigarette, but butt it out almost instantly. It’s lost its allure. I remember Uncle Ian too fondly. He used to take me fishing when I was a little boy. I sit down on my bed and rub my face. I could go back to sleep, but it seems I have a job to do. I have seven hours to figure out a way to get out of the dinner invitation without upsetting my mom.
It’s around six o’clock in the evening, and I’m standing at the open patio door, listening to the clatter of dishes inside, the smell of spices from my mom cooking. I obviously haven’t figured
out how to dodge this dinner without pissing my mom off. Or maybe deep down I want to be here. I know that’s what my mom is thinking when she spots me loitering and smiles.
“There you are. Just in time.”
Allegra, who had been helping my mom with a salad at the kitchen counter, turns and looks at me. I enter the kitchen, feeling nervous all of a sudden, though I hide it beneath a surly sneer. I never get nervous. I’ve always done what I wanted, when I wanted, however I wanted, but Allegra’s gaze always makes me rethink all of my life strategies.
I must have been a masochist in a former life, cause it makes me fucking uncomfortable. And yet I keep coming back for more.
I follow my mom into the dining room where Sam and Theo are already seated at the table. She sets down the plate piled high with chimichangas, then takes a seat beside Sam. Allegra sets down the salad and sits by Theo, and I close my eyes against the image of her in her tight little white T-shirt.
Bad Seth. Really, really bad.
Taking the remaining chair beside my mom, I sit down across the table from Allegra, which is not ideal. It’s only the third time since my unexpected arrival that I’ve had a meal with these people—my so-called family. Most of the time I eat in my room, not wanting to spend any significant time around Allegra. With how I feel about her, its best for everyone involved that I keep my distance.
“Good to see you at the table, Seth,” Sam says.
I nod, not entirely trusting myself to speak, but my mom elbows me in the side for my bad manners. Again, that panic snakes through me, and I clear my throat, wanting to make her happy. “Thank you, sir.”
I almost choke on the sir, but the fact is, Sam’s okay. He makes my mom happy, so that’s something.
“Well, let’s dig in,” my mom says. Reaching for the platter, she passes it around. Despite my unwillingness to be here, the smell makes my mouth water, brings back memories, and I cast a sideways look at my mom, wondering if that was what she intended.
