Stepbrother Obsessed

by Devon Hartford

  That makes me cry even harder. “I had sex with him, Rox,” I sob, snot running down my nose.

  “It’s okay, Skye,” she soothes. “It’s okay.”

  That she isn’t mad or jealous allows me to feel the full pain of it without defending myself or holding anything back. My wails overwhelm me and I sink to the floor. Rox kneels down with me, cradling me in her arms.

  I cry harder than I’ve ever cried before.

  My best friend since forever holds me the whole time.

  oOoOoOo + O+O+O+O

  Eventually, I stop crying, but only because I run out of energy and tears. I lie on the bathroom floor on my side, staring at the wall.

  “We missed fifth period,” Rox says. “And half of sixth. I say we bail on the rest of the day.”

  “Oh shit,” I mumble. “I forgot I have detention today.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ashley turned me in to Principal Brown for posting my slap photo on ChatBrat.”

  “I saw that!” Rox laughs. “Total girl power post! You go, bitch slapper!”

  “Bitch slapper?”

  “What?” she chuckles. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.” I half smile, much to my surprise. A half hour ago, I thought I might never smile again.

  “Hold on a sec.” She stands up and dashes out of the bathroom. She returns a moment later with her phone. “Holy shit! That photo is at the top of ChatBrat! It’s already got almost 900 kisses!”

  “Kisses? Not Disses?”

  “Yup,” she grins. “And the comments are all positive.” She scrolls through them. “People love that you showed up Ashley. They’re calling you some kind of hero for dethroning the queen of North Valley.”

  “People are stupid. They thought I was a slut the day before yesterday.”

  “I never did,” she says somberly. “I was just jealous you got the hottest guy we’ve ever seen.”

  “Are you still jealous?” I ask carefully.

  She wrinkles her nose, “Was the sex any good?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I frown.

  “An honest one.”

  “Yes,” I groan.

  “Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Duh! Because I feel bad for you!”

  I shake my head, grinning, “You are so lame.”

  She huffs. “I know. I’ve been a total bitch. I don’t know what I was thinking. Dante picked you. We agreed we’d let him decide.”

  “In the end, he didn’t pick me either.”

  “I can’t believe he said he wanted a three way with both of us.”

  “Why not? That’s what every guy wants.”

  She shakes her head, mystified. “Skye, I’ve never seen a guy less into me than Dante. He wouldn’t even look at my boobs at Blazing Waters. That is scientifically impossible.”

  “That’s a laugh. Guys always stare at your chest.”

  “He didn’t. I’m telling you, Skye, I always know when guys look at my ladies,” she grins and glances at her chest.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I groan. I know she knows. Whenever we go out, she always tells me when she catches guys staring at her chest. From the way she tells me, you’d think she was as happy about it as she was mad. I never quite understand it because guys rarely look at my non-chest. When they do, it’s by accident. I suddenly remember Dante’s reaction to seeing my naked breasts. A wave a sadness washes over me. I ride it out until it passes.

  “What?” Rox asks.

  “Nothing,” I lie. “What were you saying about Dante?”

  “He wouldn’t stare at my chest. It was the weirdest thing. It made me crazy jealous.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because guys always look. It was like there was suddenly something wrong with me. It drove me nuts. It was weird. I can’t explain it.”

  “Why? You get tons of guys.”

  “Not like Dante,” she scoffs.

  “You’re not missing out. Trust me. He’s a prick. Just like all the rest.”

  “Now I feel awful,” she groans.

  “Don’t.”

  “But I do. I let a hot douche come between you and me.”

  “Hot douche?” I chuckle. “Is that like a hot wax, but on the inside?”

  She cringes. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, a plumber?”

  “No, I meant who would get one, not who would do it.”

  “Oh,” I snicker. “I thought you meant the pubic stylist, or feminine landscapers—” I shake my head, searching for the right word, “—or… whatever they’re called.”

  Rox stares at me like I’m the crazy one.

  “Pubic plumber?” I offer.

  She laughs, “Okay, now I’m picturing going in to get a Brazilian and the guy behind the counter is hairy and smoking a cigar and he’s like, ‘Lady, the Brazilian is $29.95, but the hot douche injection is 15 bucks extra.’” She says it in a mannish voice.

  “Have you ever even had a Brazilian?” I snicker.

  “Just the one I gave myself, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” I laugh. “You said it itched to sit for three days!”

  “More like burned for three days!”

  “That’s right! Why did you do that?!”

  “To impress some guy whose name I’ve forgotten.”

  Still grinning, I snort, “You can add Dante’s name to the list of forgettables.”

  “Dante who?”

  “Exactly,” I grin.

  For the first time since Dante left, I feel vaguely close to normal.

  I hope this feeling lasts all day. I don’t want to go back to being miserable any sooner than tomorrow.

  oOoOoOo + O+O+O+O

  Rox drives me to detention. I want to see if Ashley shows up. She doesn’t.

  Since I’ll have to sit through detention sooner or later, I decide to get it out of the way now. Besides, staring at my fingernails for over an hour is about all I’m good for this afternoon.

  Rox is waiting for me outside when I finish and she drives me home.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say when she stops outside my house. “You want to hang out?”

  “Sure.”

  We end up kicking it in my room. Rox sits against the headboard and I’m draped over the foot of the bed on my back, staring at the ceiling with my feet hanging over the side. I already changed out of my SLUT shirt and into a clean T. The SLUT shirt sits folded on top of my hamper so the stain won’t get on anything else. We’ll see if the lipstick comes out. Not that I care. I kind of like it. Maybe I’ll wear it again before I wash it.

  “Have you started filling out your college craplications yet?” Rox asks.

  “Did you just say crap-lications?” I giggle.

  “Yup,” she grins.

  “Yeah. I’ve been looking at them.”

  “Have you picked a major yet?”

  “No. But it won’t be Business. Don’t tell my dad. He’d totally blow a gasket.”

  “Yeah,” Rox grins, “I can picture him with steam coming out of his ears.”

  “In other words, the usual,” I laugh.

  “Yup. Have you started working on your college essay yet?”

  “You mean my personal statement?” I say sarcastically.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. But that’s it.”

  “Me too,” Rox sighs. “I have no idea what to write.”

  I roll onto my stomach and grin at her, “Just write about the time you gave yourself a Brazilian wax job and how you don’t want other women to suffer through the same PBWJSD you did.”

  She shakes her head, “The PB and J what?!”

  “No, PBWJSD. Post Brazilian Wax Job Stress Disorder. Duh.”

  She frowns, “That’s El Oh Lame-O.”

  I frown back. “Hand me my pillow.”

  “Why?”

  “Just hand it to me.”

  She rea
ches behind her head and tosses it to me.

  I catch it and throw it back at her face.

  She catches it. “Oh, this is so on! Pillow fight!” She swings it two-fisted like a baseball bat.

  A giggle-infused pillow fight follows. It feels so good to have Rox back. When we run out of steam, Rox grabs her phone and checks it.

  “Did someone text you?” I ask.

  “No. I wanna see how your ‘Take Back The Slut’ photo is doing in ChatBrat.”

  I roll my eyes, “Why?”

  “Because you’re a role model, Skye! Don’t you get it? That photo literally says ‘fuck you’ to slut shamers everywhere.”

  “I guess.”

  Rox leans over her phone. “Wait, what the F is this?”

  “What?”

  She holds up the phone, showing me a picture of a fully nude woman getting banged from behind by a hairy chested guy. It’s some random porn photo from the 1970s of two people doin’ it doggy style, but my head has been Photoshopped onto the woman’s. Rox’s face has been pasted over the man’s, but just her face, keeping the guy’s 70s perm intact. The caption reads:

  Skye Albright, the local Slut Sore, is at it again! She needs to upgrade her Scarlet I to a Scarlet S! This girl is a super slut! Everybody grab a pitch fork and lets get this slunt hunt started!

  I roll my eyes and flop back on the bed. “Ashley Masters is at it again. Doesn’t she realize that a Scarlet S on my chest would look like Superman’s logo?”

  “That’s my face!” Rox groans, ignoring my comment.

  “And mine. So?”

  “So? We have to put a stop to this!!”

  I take the phone from her and examine the photo, grinning. “I don’t know, Rox. You look pretty good with a hairy chest and a gold chain around your neck. I love the permed hair. Curls on guys are super sexy. The only thing missing is a thick 70s mustache.”

  She throws another pillow at me.

  I laugh.

  She huffs, “I’m serious, Skye. We need to shut the bitch down.”

  “You mean Ashley?”

  “Of course.”

  “You wanna start a slut fight?”

  Her eyes flash, “Yeah!”

  “No.”

  She deflates. “Well, we should do something.”

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “We need to hack ChatBrat and delete these posts or figure out who’s posting them so we can get them in trouble or something. Anything.”

  “Wait, what did you just say?”

  “We need to get whoever’s doing this in trouble.”

  “No, before that.”

  “Uh, we need to hack ChatBrat?”

  “O. M. Genius!” My eyes light up. “You just gave me an idea.”

  “What do you know about hacking, Bill Gates?”

  “Nothing. But I can get us Bill Gates,” I say dramatically.

  “Huh? How?”

  “I tell you tomorrow.”

  She frowns, “Isn’t that the punchline to that old joke, ‘How do you keep a moron in suspense?’”

  “Yeah,” I laugh.

  “Slut fight!!” she squeals and hits me with yet another pillow.

  My world is nearly perfect. Except for the hole Dante left in my heart. I just need to work on getting over it.

  Chapter 19

  That night when I go to bed, I’m actually in an okay mood.

  Having Rox back in my life has reset my world. She stayed for dinner, which lightened Dad and Catarina’s mood too. It’s like they missed Rox as much as I did. After Rox left, I even managed to do some homework before bed.

  With clean teeth and a freshly scrubbed face, I climb into bed. I don’t fall asleep right away. I’m too excited about my master plan.

  Tack tack tack…

  It all starts tomorrow. I’m gonna teach Ashley Masters a lesson about being a bullying bitch. I’ve had it with her. I’m not gonna take her bad behavior lying down. I smirk to myself. Sure, I’m lying in bed at the moment, but it’s just a figure of speech.

  Tack tack tack…

  First thing tomorrow, I’ll be on both feet fighting.

  Tack tack tack…

  What the hell is that noise?

  I sit up in bed and listen. All I hear is water running in the master bedroom. Other than that, the house is silent.

  Tack tack tack…

  Where is it coming from? Is it the heating vent? No, the heat is off. It’s still October so it’s still warm at night. I climb out of bed and lift the comforter, looking for Leprechauns digging for gold under my bed. Don’t dismiss. You never know where those little guys bury their pots. I kneel down to get a better view under the mattress. No Leprechauns.

  Tack tack tack…

  What the? I sit bolt upright.

  Tack tack tack…

  I spin around and whip my drapes open.

  Dante.

  Damn it.

  A mixture of feelings overwhelms me. Anger. Joy. Hate. Love. Fear. Hope. Irritation. Relief.

  “Get out of here!” I whisper harshly. “Dad will kill you if he knows you’re here!”

  Dante squats on the roof outside my window. He raises a forlorn eyebrow. His blond bangs fall and drift over one emerald eye. The other shines like a green beacon.

  Why does he have to be so damn handsome?

  “You look like a vampire out there!” I hiss, placing one hand against the glass.

  He smirks a grin. He places his palm against mine on the glass. He says something, but the words are muffled by the glass. His deep voice vibrates the window pane ever so slightly.

  I crack my window open an inch. “What did you say?” I whisper.

  “I said: then let me in and I’ll make you immortal,” he says quietly.

  “No! You’re not turning me immortal! And I didn’t give you permission to come in when I opened the window. No vampires!”

  “Please let me in.”

  “That’s what vampires always say! Go suck Phoebe’s blood or something.”

  “Please, Cielo. Let me in.”

  My heart skips when he calls me Cielo. I grimace, “I thought that name didn’t mean anything to you.”

  “It means everything to me.”

  “Liar.” I scowl.

  “I’m sorry, Cielo. I made a mistake. Let me in so I can explain.”

  I slump my shoulders and my head tips back. “Fine,” I groan. “But don’t try anything… vampiric.” I slide the window open all the way and make a cross using both my index fingers, warding him off.

  He rattles something around outside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The window screen? I can’t get it off.”

  “Oh.”

  “You have to undo it from the inside.”

  Having never done it before, it takes me a minute to figure out the little spring tabs on each side. I set the screen on the floor and back away as Dante climbs through. I make the finger cross again.

  “I’m not going to bite your neck,” he chuckles quietly.

  “Or anything else.” I sit on the foot of my bed and look up at him. “Well?”

  He’s so damn tall it’s ridiculous. As always, stubble dusts his strong jaw and he wears his leather jacket and jeans. “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you the other night.”

  “Duh. You could’ve just said you were moving on and left it at that.” I wrinkle my brow. “Why did you have to be so mean?”

  “Because I wanted you to let go.”

  “Let go of what?”

  “My heart.”

  “Oh.” I cock my head. “Wait, what does that mean?”

  “I tried to leave, mi Cielo. But I couldn’t. When I got on my bike and rode off, my heart hurt. The farther I went, the more it hurt. It’s like my heart is tied to yours and I was stretching the connection to the breaking point. I couldn’t do it.”

  Awww…

  Okay, I’m melting. But I don’t let it show. And maybe I’m a little wet. I
squirm ever so slightly on the top of the comforter in my cotton shorts. I’m not wearing any panties at the moment. If this continues, I won’t be able to stand up without leaving a wet spot. My comforter might be patterned, but my shorts aren’t.

  The glacier around my heart also starts to melt, which scares me to death.

  He sits down beside me, but leaves a foot of space between us. Some would call that 30 centimeters, but I don’t want to think about metric conversions or anything else vaguely related to the SATs or College or Chemistry class right now. I sigh with frustration. My mind is a jumble. I think I’m trying to avoid feeling anything by making jokes in my head. I smirk dumbly and put my hand on his knee, “Tell me about your heart again?”

  A flicker of amusement twitches his cheeks. “Yeah, sure. Where was I?”

  “Our hearts are tied together?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Uh…”

  “I’m sorry,” I grimace. “I’m ruining your moment.”

  “It’s okay,” he grins. “But I like to think of this as our moment, mi Cielo.”

  I heave a sigh. As much as I’d like to fall into his arms, the half-melted glacier around my heart reminds me there’s much left to resolve. I pick at my fingernail and mutter, “You said some really hurtful things to me, Dante.”

  He hangs his head. “I know. And I’m so so sorry I did. I didn’t mean any of it.”

  “Then why did you say it?”

  “Because I thought it would hurt you less if you hated me. I thought it would make it easier for you to let go.”

  “I never wanted to let go, Dante.”

  “But you have to let go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to ruin what you have.”

  “Huh? I had you. Or at least I thought I did. I don’t, I mean, I didn’t want to ruin that.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I mean this.” He motions around the room. “This world of yours. This house. Your dad. Catarina. Your family. This… home.” He starts to choke up. “I haven’t had a home in a long time, and I know how important it is. I didn’t want to destroy yours.”

  “You didn’t,” I plead.

  “That’s not how your dad sees things.”

  I groan. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “He doesn’t want me in your life. I didn’t want to force you to chose between your home and me.”