Stepbrother Obsessed

by Devon Hartford

  “Well, this is good news,” Romeo smiles at me.

  “Um, not really,” I sigh.

  “Oh?” Romeo says thoughtfully.

  “It’s not exactly helping my social standing at North Valley. If you can imagine.”

  He nods, “North Valley isn’t exactly the pinnacle of progressive thinking, is it? Do people know? Are the rumors flying to and fro?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble.

  Romeo suddenly appears shocked. “Skye, do your parents know?”

  Dante and I exchange a guilty look.

  “Not yet,” I say fearfully.

  “Ooh! Intrigue!” Romeo gasps.

  I snort, “Romeo, how do you manage to make my worst nightmare sound like gossipy good fun?”

  “Talent,” Romeo says with finality. “Skye, listen to me.” He sounds suddenly serious. “Do you two love each other?”

  I exchange a look with Dante. He gazes into my eyes. His twin emerald jewels, which are definitely not rocks or pebbles, glow with warmth and affection. He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Yes.”

  “I do. I—I mean, me too!” I sputter. What did I almost just say? Geez! It’s not like he proposed to me just now. But why does it feel like he did? I don’t know. I’m not a genius. It’s just a guess.

  “I can tell,” Romeo says sweetly. His tone then changes to completely serious. “Skye, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being gay, it’s that true love will overcome all adversity. Gay people are heroes. When society literally hates them for loving one another, they stand proud. They get married even when it’s banned in some states. They remind every last one of us that it’s okay to be different, especially when it comes to who and how you love. If you two truly love each other, then follow your hearts. Don’t let society tell you it’s wrong.” He snorts. “Especially if said society are the gossip ghouls at North Valley High.”

  Everyone is silent.

  After a moment, Kamiko says, “Wow, Romeo. That was profound.”

  He smirks, “Of course it was, dearest. I’m not just a cheap gimmick.”

  “That’s funny,” Kamiko quips, “because I heard you’ll give it up to any hot guy for free, as long as he’s hot enough.”

  He waves his hand, “When it comes to hot beefcake, I’m as cheap as they come. Come, Kamiko. I said come.” He moans the word.

  “You definitely need to change your underwear,” Kamiko winces and waves her hand at him, shooing him away.

  Romeo tosses his imaginary hair once again.

  I grin from ear to ear, “Wow, Romeo. I can’t thank you enough for your encouragement. It means a lot. Seriously.”

  “Tis nothing, Skye. Don’t let others tell you who to love. You’ll regret it if you do. What seems like the easy way out now will eat away at you later on. Follow your hearts. Both of you.” He glances at Dante. “And, if for some reason you decide she’s not worth it,” he winks at me, “look me up. You can have your way with me any time you want.”

  Dante chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind. But you might be waiting a long time.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I think your advice about Skye is spot on.”

  I feel warmth and amor radiating off of Dante. I melt into his side, where I fit perfectly, like we were made for each other in some cosmic artist’s studio where souls are crafted by the gods, two lovers made as one, then split apart and cast into the world of man to enjoy the adventure of reconnecting for eternity. Or something like that.

  Then I remember that Dad could walk outside at any second and I reluctantly pull away.

  Back to hiding my feelings from the world.

  It could be worse.

  oOoOoOo + O+O+O+O

  “You sure are all the rage on ChatBrat today,” Ashley Masters says as I pass her in the hall on the following Friday morning.

  I ignore her. Too bad I didn’t turn around and go the other way the moment I saw her. But she saw me see her, and there was no way I was letting her think I was backing down. That’s why I hold my head high and wait until I’m at my locker to check ChatBrat.

  Once again, I’m infamous.

  This time it’s a new photo at the top of the ChatBrat feed.

  In it, me, Dad, and Catarina stand together with our heads sticking through one of those boards that has cartoons of perfect hard bodies in bathing suits and bikinis painted on the front. We had the photo taken at the Venice Beach boardwalk last summer. Usually tourists pay two dollars to stick their heads through the holes and have the guy take their picture. It was my idea to do it, and amazingly, Dad was happy to look foolish for the fun of it. We had a blast that entire day, so I posted the pic on my Facebook. One of the few family photos I put up. Yeah, it was dorky, but so what?

  The only problem with this version on ChatBrat? Someone has Photoshopped Dante’s head from the library meeting room photo onto the fourth cartoon body. Worse, the cartoon people painted on the board are obviously a dad, a mom, a son, and a daughter.

  Guess where Dante’s head is?

  You got it.

  The caption below the photo reads:

  NEWS FLASH!! It turns out Slutbright’s hookup is her BROTHER! Slap a scarlet I on her chest! Can you say incest?

  I am furious.

  Whoever made the photo stole it from my Facebook. I doubt it was Ashley. She’s never been a Facebook friend and I limit access to my page. But considering I’ve got several hundred friends, many of whom are acquaintances who go to North Valley, one of them could’ve passed the photo on to Ashley. Or posted it themselves. Because it seems like lately the cool thing to do is trash Skye Albright on ChatBrat. Too bad there’s no way to know who is posting all this crap.

  I can’t blame Luke, because I distinctly remember he said he told Ashley that Dante was my stepbrother. Not my actual brother. Either Ashley posted this to hurt me more, or someone else ran with whatever misinformation they had and now I have to deal with it.

  This is going to make things worse.

  Why can’t people be more open-minded like Romeo? He was right. Gay people are heroes. Having people hate on you because of who you love is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, or probably anybody it happens to.

  Not wanting to deal with people’s gossipy whispering, and since Rox, Nicole, and Kayla are still avoiding me, I spend another lunch in the library with Jason and Trevor playing Magic The Gathering. Or should I say, pretending to play, because it really isn’t my thing. But I do seem to meet more friends of theirs by the day. Today it’s Brian and Stuart. They play Magic head to head, but spend more time talking about geeky tech stuff that I can barely follow. One thing I catch clearly is both of them plan on working for either Google or Apple when they graduate college. Based on the way they talk, it sounds totally feasible.

  Does hanging in the library with the freshman geeks make me irrelevant in the North Valley social hierarchy? I hope so, because if the ChatBrat hate flaming continues, I’d rather disappear.

  Do I care? No, because I have Dante at home, and screw everybody else. They’re assholes anyway.

  My badass attitude doesn’t stop the dirty looks I get when lunch ends and I have to traverse campus from the library to my locker. I also hear more whispery trash talking behind my back when I walk to AP English. I try to ignore it. My skin gets thicker every day. But I can’t decide if the insults are rolling off my back or if I’m shoving them down and repressing them. Well, if I die my hair black and consider piercing my eyeballs or whatever, I’ll seek help then.

  Who knows.

  For now, I’m staying strong. If worse comes to worse, I’m outta here in June and I’ll never see this shit hole school or these shit hole people ever again. Even if my entire senior year turns out to be a horrid nightmare, I’m sure things will be much better at SDU.

  Assuming I get in.

  All I have to do is ace my SATs tomorrow, and I’ll be golden.

  That shouldn’t be a problem.

  Chapter 15

  “We’ve
got a problem,” Dante says when I get home from school that afternoon.

  My fantasy of coming home and falling into his loving arms is instantly incinerated. I close the front door behind me, suddenly scared. “What?”

  Dante heaves a heavy sigh. His face is at war.

  What the hell happened? Do I even want to know?

  I’m hot from walking home from school. There’s always a heatwave in the Valley every October. Since Rox still isn’t driving me to or from school, I have to hoof it. It’s no big deal, but I’m parched. “Hold on. I’m dying of thirst. I need a drink.” I’m just delaying disaster, I can feel it. Who wants to face bedlam when you’re dehydrated?

  “Sure. Let me get you a drink.” Dante strides ahead of me into the kitchen and pulls a clean glass out of the cupboard next to the refrigerator.

  So thoughtful.

  His little touch of generosity, even when things get stressful, eases my fear. With Dante by my side, how bad can anything really be? I bet we could get through a post-apocalyptic nightmare together. If The Walking Dead was real, Dante would be my Daryl and I would be his Carol or whoever Daryl finally ends up with. I can totally picture Dante with a big old crossbow resting on his shoulder and his shaggy blonde hair hanging in his face. The image brings a grin to mine.

  Dante hands me the cold glass of water.

  The sides of it are cool. I take a few swallows of the cold water and feel instantly better. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “What’s going on, Dante?”

  His jaw grinds. His eyes dance desperately. He heaves a sigh. “Your dad knows.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands, dropping my glass of ice water. It shatters on the kitchen floor. “Oh my god… how?”

  Normally, if someone dropped a glass glass and it shattered on the floor, everyone would be bending down with a broom to pick up pieces and sweep things up. For an elongated moment, Dante and I simply stare at the shards of glass and spilled water. Is it symbolic? Has our pipe dream finally blown apart? Is this it? Is this the moment when my perfect daydream comes to an end? Because we all know this whole setup was way too good to last. I mean, come on: super hot surfer hottie moves into my parents house and we fall hard for each other? Oh, and it turns out we’re step-siblings? Can you say: not gonna last?

  “What happened?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “Your school principal called your dad. I guess there’s some social network site that has the library picture online with some harsh comments? Do you know anything about that?”

  “No! I just left school! Everything was normal! I have no idea what’s going on!”

  “Not anymore,” he sighs. “My mom called to warn me. Your dad is on his way home now.”

  Paralyzing panic smacks me as I remember what happened the last time my dad was mad at Dante. “What do we do? If Dad finds out…” I can’t even finish the sentence. If he finds out what me and Dante have been doing under his nose, this is all coming to an end. Dad really will chase Dante out of town with a lynch mob this time. They’ll be shooting rifles and waving torches in the air and Dad will be the one with the hangman’s noose dangling from his saddle as the gang runs Dante down. He and his motorcycle boots will be swinging from a tree by sunup. “Dad is going to freak out.” Understatement.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Dante says with zero humor.

  My mind races. The first thing I think of is packing some clothes in a backpack and jumping on the back of Dante’s motorcycle so we can both ride off into the sunset together. But that’s just a fantasy. I need a real solution. But every solution leads back to a confrontation with Dad. That will end badly. Period. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Anywhere,” I say it with desperate haste. “Pack your stuff. I’ll grab some clothes. But let’s get out of here. Now.”

  A faint smile drifts across his face. “En serio?” Seriously?

  “En serio.” I step toward the stairs but stop myself. I grab a dustpan and whisk broom from under the sink. I sweep up the broken glass. I’m picking up the pieces. Yes, it’s symbolic. Dante grabs paper towels and blots up the water.

  “How long will it take you to pack?” I ask.

  “Me? Five minutes.”

  I smirk, “You’re such a wanderer.”

  “And?” He grins dimples.

  I shake my head and snort, “Me too.” I never was before, but you gotta start sometime. I rush upstairs and jump into jeans and throw my arms into a hoodie. I dump my books out of my knapsack onto my bedroom floor. Won’t be needing those. I throw some clean panties, shirts, socks, and a tooth brush into my school knapsack. I unplug my cell phone charger by my desk and dump it into the bag. Then I dash into the guest bedroom, holding my knapsack. Dante is already cinching his backpack shut. “Are you packed?” I marvel.

  “Yeah.”

  “Um, do I need a warm jacket for the motorcycle?”

  He looks me over. “Yeah. Stuff your hoodie in the knapsack and wear your coat on the bike. Do you have a leather jacket?”

  “No,” I say, disappointed.

  He grins, “We’ll have to get you one.”

  Those words thrill my heart. We are doing this. O.M.Jesus. I run back to my room and grab a ski jacket and stuff the hoodie in the knapsack. I stuff my purse into the knapsack. I can’t think of what else to bring.

  “You ready?” Dante asks, leaning casually against my doorframe. Damn, he looks hot in his leather jacket and jeans and boots and beard stubble.

  “Tampons!” I’m gonna need them sooner or later. Who knows how long we’ll be gone? I run into the bathroom and grab a bunch from under the sink. I also grab a hair brush from the drawer and some hair ties. I look at my makeup: eyeliner pencils, mascara, lipstick tubes, foundation, blush, blah, blah, blah. I turn my back on it and bump into Dante on my way out the bathroom.

  He chuckles.

  I look into his eyes. They glint a precious shade of green. A jovial flicker dances across them as they swallow my heart.

  “We’re doing this?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Road trip!” I giggle.

  “Let’s go,” he smiles, offering his hand.

  I take it, feeling its warmth and strength. I sigh pleasantly, on the verge of swooning. But we need to go! Before dad gets here.

  “Shit,” he huffs.

  “What?!” More panic.

  “You need a helmet. We’re not gonna get far without one. Some cop will pull us over.”

  I run back to my bedroom and pop open my laptop. I do a quick search for motorcycle dealerships. “There’s a Honda dealership near the freeway. They’ll have helmets, right?”

  He nods proudly, “Yup.”

  I slap my laptop closed. “Let’s go!”

  We trot down the stairs and he says, “There’s no room for you on the seat if I strap my pack on it. Can you wear my pack and I’ll wear yours?” He hands it to me at the bottom of the stairs.

  I shrug mine off, he takes it, and helps me into his. “It’s kind of heavy. But I’ll manage.”

  He slips his arms through the straps of mine.

  We both look like idiots. He because he’s wearing a girl’s backpack that’s way too small for him. Me because his pack makes my ski jacket puff out around the straps. “Remember that crazy puffy snowsuit that Randy wore in that movie A Christmas Story?”

  “Who?”

  “You know, Ralphie’s little brother Randy? He had that burgundy snowsuit and he couldn’t put his arms down once he got it on?”

  “Sorry,” he smiles. “I missed that one.”

  “Well, I can barely put my arms down. I feel like Randy.”

  “Oh. Was Randy cute in his puffy snowsuit?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  He kisses my forehead, “You are too. We should go.”

  We walk out the front door and I’m way too hot in this jacket. Dante sweeps me off my feet and sets me on the back of the motorcycle. Then he does th
is martial arts looking move with his leg to put it over the front seat without kicking me in the arm. He lowers his helmet onto his head and adjusts the straps. Then he starts the engine and it vibrates between my legs. It’s not as big of a turn on as I would’ve imagined. Then again, we’re on the run. And while it seems sexy, the reality of it is nerve-wracking.

  “Put your arms around me,” he commands.

  “Gladly.” I circle his waist with my arms and squeeze up against him. “I could get used to this.”

  “Hold on tight. You don’t have a helmet, so I don’t want you flying off. Head injuries aren’t pretty.”

  “Yeah,” I snort. You’d think we would’ve worked this out already, but do you think my dad would’ve liked the idea of me getting a helmet so Dante could ride me around town on the back of his motorcycle? Exactly. Not!

  I glance toward the end of our cul-de-sac. My dad’s fancy 760Li Beemer is turning the corner.

  “Oh shit!”

  “I see him,” Dante growls. “Hold on.”

  The engine revs and I’m thrown backward by the force of the acceleration. But my arms are wrapped tightly around Dante, and I manage to hold on, just barely. My chest seizes instantly with fear and adrenalin. I have a moment to wonder if Dad has seen us and what he might be thinking. Is he going to suddenly swerve and lay down stripes of rubber, creating a road blockade like a cop? And then Dante reacts a second too late and the back wheel of the motorcycle slides out from beneath us and I tumble across the cement at thirty miles an hour, with no helmet and nothing but a flimsy ski jacket to protect me, only to slam into the side of Dad’s car? Can you say, ‘Coma’?

  Luckily, none of that happens.

  But the front wheel of the bike lifts off the ground as we jet past Dad.

  Dad slams on the brakes of the BMW and slides to a stop in a straight line.

  We rocket down the street and Dante leans the bike over as we turn the corner. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to lean or not, so I just squeeze Dante as hard as I can and clamp my eyes shut. I’m scared out of my mind.

  For the next several minutes, we weave our way through the sunny suburban streets near my family home, cutting corners, running stop signs, breaking the speed limit and just about every other driving law there is.