As if my brain needs another reminder. The sex dream has me on edge; I can't quite tell if I'm irritated or horny.
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Peeling off my t-shirt, I wince at the damp spot on the back where I've sweat through it. Surely I must be feverish; at least that would explain the sex dream. I drop it on the floor and step out of my jeans. Toothbrush. I need a toothbrush. I dig through the medicine cabinet over the sink, looking for a toothbrush, and then bend over, yanking the handle on the cabinet below.
The cool rush of air hits me before my ears even register the sound of the bathroom door opening, and I jump up immediately.
"Nice panties. "
I whirl around to see Caulter in the doorway, his hair -- shaved on the sides, the longer part mussed -- standing up in every direction. Shirtless. He's wearing these pajama pants, grey cotton, the fabric so thin it clings to every part of him. Every part of him. The way they drape makes it worse than if he were standing here in front of me buck naked. The way he looks just screams sex, especially given the fact that his dick is hard. Like, rock hard.
And I can't stop looking at it.
Caulter notices and smirks. "Do you like what you see?" he asks. "You can give it another try if you want. I'm up for it. "
"You're vulgar," I hiss. "You're in my bathroom. And the door is wide open. " And I'm standing here in my underwear, I realize immediately; it's like my brain is slow this morning. I cover my chest with my arm and reach for the pile of clothes on the floor, shielding my crotch. Oh my God, I'm wearing granny panties.
He steps inside and closes the door behind him. "Better?"
"That wasn't an invitation," I say. "What's wrong with you? Get out of my bathroom. Don't you have any boundaries?"
"You're the one who was griping that the door was open," he says. "I wouldn't want anyone to walk in on you staring at my cock like it's a piece of steak and you're a starving animal. "
"You're delusional," I say, gritting my teeth. "Thinking I'm staring at your cock. And turn around, so I can put some clothes on. "
I'm almost surprised when he actually does, and I scramble to slide my legs back in my jeans.
"Sure you want to bother putting those jeans on?" he asks. "It's not like I haven't seen it already. Besides, those panties aren't exactly… revealing. "
Cringing at the fact that he's just seen me in panties that are practically the size of a bed sheet, I slip my shirt over my head. "I thought we agreed to never speak about the incident again. Why are you still in here, anyway? I told you to leave. "
"The incident?" He asks. "Is that what we're calling it now? You're the one who told me to close the bathroom door behind me. "
He's still turned around, so I take the opportunity to let my eyes linger on the expanse of his bare back. His muscles are defined, from his shoulders down the length of his trim body, the gentle V-shape of his back coming to a taper where his waist is partially hidden by the band on his pants. I pause, stopping to check out his perfectly shaped ass, remembering how it felt in my hands that night.
Caulter turns around and catches me, and I feel my face flush with heat. He gives me that look, the smugly self-satisfied look that says he knows I was checking him out. His cock is still rock hard, and I wonder if that's normal. That can't be normal, right? He must have some kind of medical condition. It can't be typical for him to be carrying on a conversation like this, with a giant erection. And I mean that literally. He's not exactly small.
The fact that he's standing here, rock hard, annoys me. I don't need a reminder of that night staring me right in the damn face. "You knew I meant that you needed to get out of here, not close the door behind you and invite yourself inside. Obviously. Normal people don't do that. " I gesture toward the giant tent pitched in his pants. "Are you going to do something about that?"
"Do you want to help me do something about this, Princess?" he asks, his tone sing-songy. He practically leers at me.
"Ugh," I say. "Don't be disgusting. Just – ugh. Why is it still… hard? And why do you have to be such a pervert?"
"Oh, how cute," he says, turning away from me and heading towards the toilet. "You think it's because I think you're hot. You really are virginal, aren't you? It's morning wood, Princess. Nothing personal. "
"Oh my God, are you about to take a leak in here, right in front of me?" I ask.
"Well, I came in here to take a leak and since you're insisting on running your mouth instead of getting out of the bathroom and letting me do my business, then yeah, I'm about to take a leak in here. " He hooked his thumb under the waistband of his pants, and looks at me. "Do you want to stay and watch? You're probably into some kinky shit like water sports, aren't you?"
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I don't even know what water sports are, and I don't think I want to know. "You're the most disgusting person I've ever met. "
"Oh, give it time, Princess," he says, dropping his pants. I can see his cock from the side, and his right ass cheek. I can't believe he just stripped down in front of me like I'm not even here. "You ain't seen nothing yet. And I'm going to be around all summer long. "
I don't know if that's supposed to be a threat or an innuendo, and I don't want to know. Not even bothering to try to hide my irritation, I huff out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me, probably too loudly. Back in my room, I resolve to stay the hell away from Caulter. He's a crude pig who is clearly just trying to get a rise out of me. And it's totally working.
Did he just say that I'm really going to be stuck with him all summer?
I knew I'd be sent to our vacation home in New Hampshire for the summer while my father finished up his term in DC before the Senate broke for summer session. That's usually how my summers go. But having Caulter join us? Bad boy Caulter is the last person I'd really expect to fall in line and play along with some "we're one big happy family" routine.
I wonder what Caulter has up his sleeve. That's what I should be focusing on. Instead of what he has in his pants.
"Good morning, Katherine," Ella says. It's only seven, but I've already been out to my car to grab my bag, and in and out of the shower. There was no sign of Caulter in the bathroom this time, thank God. At least that's something. "Did you sleep well?"
I blush, remembering the dream. Nightmare is a better word for it. Did I sleep well? With vivid dreams of Caulter's dick running through my head, followed by the greeting I got in the bathroom this morning? I wonder if I'm ever going to sleep again. It's like my life is turning into some kind of porno. But without the sex, I remind myself. There's going to be no more sex.
Even if he has the sweetest looking body I've ever seen, tall and lanky with washboard abs. He's off limits. And not just because he's my new stepbrother -- I mean, we're not even related, sure, but I can't even fathom the scandal that would involve -- but because it's Caulter. He's the crudest, filthiest, sluttiest guy I've ever met in my life. I have absolutely no business wanting him.
I'm afraid the summer is going to involve a lot of cold showers.
I clear my throat. "I slept great," I said.
Ella sips from a glass of what appears to be green sludge. It's seven in the morning, and she's perfect, even without a lick of makeup, her skin alabaster and unblemished. She's wearing yoga pants and a tank top that cuts off at her midriff, revealing her trim abdomen. Standing here in front of her makes me suddenly aware of the five pounds I gained writing my graduation speech a few weeks ago, when I was subsisting on energy drinks and candy. I just know she's the kind of person who doesn't eat sugar. Or caffeine. And who wakes up at some ungodly hour in the morning to do yoga and meditate before she heads to the gym.
"I told your father it was probably best to not disturb you last night," she says. "The way you found out about the engagement was. . . abrupt. And I'm sure you're exhausted after finals and graduation. "
I nod. I don't know what to say. I know she's being nice, trying to console me
or whatever, since it was probably my father's idea to spring that shit on me with no warning, but it's just too damn early in the morning for some kind of bonding experience with the breathtakingly gorgeous and much too perfect celebrity standing in my kitchen. "Is my father around here?"
"He's out for a run," she says. "It's one of his longer runs. He's training for a marathon. "
Of course he is, I think. I don't remember my father being into running. "Is there coffee around here somewhere?"
"We've cleaned out the pantry," Ella says. We, I note. "Your father doesn't drink caffeine anymore. But there's an herbal coffee alternative on the counter. It's so much better for you than coffee, and it has a cleansing effect. "
I turn toward her, my un-caffeinated brain refusing to process what she's saying. Have I actually descended into the seventh circle of Hell? "So there's no coffee in the house," I say, my voice flat.
Ella looks at me, her expression so earnest it makes me almost want to forgive her. "I - I should have gotten some. "
"It's okay. " I turn and lean against the kitchen counter. Am I expected to stand here and politely converse, without even having a coffee? Is that how they do it in Hollywood? It seems cruel and unusual. "I'm just going to go find a coffee shop. "
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"Oh. " Ella looks positively heartbroken, as if she's failed at some new fiancé test. I just don't have the energy to reassure her right now.
"Do you want anything from the coffee shop?" I ask. "Like. . . a bagel or something?"
She wrinkles her nose. Ah, of course not. Carbs. I'm sure she doesn't eat them. "Uh. . . No thank you," she says.
I grab my wallet upstairs and slip out the door, relieved to get out of the house.
"Following me?" Caulter stands at the corner of the house, and casually blows smoke rings in my direction.
"Of course not," I say, annoyed. "There's no coffee in this place. I'm getting caffeine. I can't think. "
"Oh yeah. " He laughs. "Did she try to offer you that herbal shit?"
"You mean the green crap she's drinking? What is that stuff? It smells like fish. "
Caulter snorts. "It's like algae and seaweed or something, I don't know. It's rancid, right? Like a milkshake made of fish tank. But no, I mean the coffee substitute. "
"Yeah, some herbal thing?" I ask.
He laughs. "It'll make you shit something fierce. Don't do it. " Then he looks up at me. "Of course, it might help with that stick up your ass. "
"Seriously, I knew you couldn't go two minutes without being a dick. " I step down, and Caulter calls my name. "What?" I ask, my voice clipped.
"That's what I'm talking about, Princess," he says. "You need to get a fucking sense of humor. "
"Sure, Caulter. " I turn to walk away, but he calls my name again. "What?"
"Here," he says. "You want one?" He holds up one of those canned espresso drinks, and then tosses it to me.
I pop the top and gulp down the life-saving liquid as I walk toward where he's standing. He turns his head and blows a trail of smoke to the side. "That's a disgusting habit," I say. "You're going to get cancer. "
"I give you coffee, and you come over here to lecture me about my hobbies," he says. "Those are some bad fucking manners. "
"Thanks for the coffee. " I take another sip, and look at the empty can by his feet. "So you're out here mainlining caffeine and nicotine, or what?"
"Gotta have my fix," he says, looking at me, his gaze steady. "I mean, I prefer a good morning fuck to wake me up. "
"Well, it's a good thing you've got the coffee and the cigarettes, then. "
Caulter shrugs. "Let me know if you change your mind, Princess. I can be ready in five seconds. "
"Don't hold your breath. "
Caulter finishes his cigarette, and holds up his middle finger. I follow his gaze out the small front yard to the sidewalk, toward the guy standing on the other side of the wall, his head visible above the brick.
"How long has that photographer been there?" I ask, turning my back and facing Caulter.
"A while," Caulter says, shrugging. "He was there yesterday. It's just one. "
"Just one?" I reach for Caulter's arm and pull it down. "Are you crazy? What the hell do you think you're doing, flipping him off?"
"Relax," he says. "They're assholes. We've developed a routine, this guy and I. It's like symbiotic and shit. He takes pictures of me; I smoke and give him the finger. He's taken enough of me flipping him off, so he's bored with it now. "
"Yeah, well, he hasn't taken pictures of me," I say. "And my father is about to start his re-election campaign. That's just what he needs, photos of you flipping off photographers. "
"Chill the fuck out, Princess," he says. "He'll snap a few photos of us out here and be done with it. We're not the real story. He wants our parents. "
I'm used to my father being in the spotlight. He's a Senator, after all. But Senators aren't really in the spotlight like this, not with paparazzi in front of the house. I mean, unless there's some kind of scandal, no one give that much of a crap about anyone except the President. Being my father's child means carefully staged interviews and photo sessions, not candid shots outside the house. The fact that Caulter and I are standing out here being photographed at all makes me feel anxious. And pissed off at Caulter for being so blasé about the media.
"Of course they're interested in us as a story -- you as a story, you moron," I say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips. I feel like a schoolteacher, lecturing him, yet I can't seem to help myself. "You're the tattooed, chain-smoking, beer-guzzling, train wreck son of the movie star who's marrying my family-values, ex-Marine Senator father. You're a tabloid headline, standing right here in front of me!"
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Caulter looks at me, his face stony and his jaw clenched. Then he blows a giant plume of smoke in my face, making me cough, and I wave my arms erratically in front of my face. I think my blood pressure goes through the roof at the act of aggression. "Yeah?" he asks, leaning forward and bringing his middle finger up in front of his face between the two of us. "Well, you're the goody-goody, stuck up, boring-ass virgin who's so uptight she can't find anyone to punch her v-card except the manwhore from her school who will screw literally anyone. " He pauses. "And then turns out to be the most boring fucking lay I've ever had. "
I let out a growl of frustration, but Caulter just laughs, which makes me even more upset.
"What are you going to do, Princess?" he asks, leaning forward, his middle finger still up. He waves it around, inches from my face. I want to break his fucking finger in half.
Caulter has me so pissed off I can't think. I just lean forward and flip him the bird, my finger an inch away from his. We're standing a foot apart, with our middle fingers in each others' faces. Real mature. We might as well be toddlers sticking our tongues out at each other.
Then Caulter smiles. "This is going to be a great fucking photo. "
Shit.
Senator Douchebag slams the newspaper down on the table. The photo of Katherine and I facing each other, eyes narrowed and lips turned up in snarls, with our middle fingers almost touching, is preceded by a headline that reads:
"HARRISON AND STERLING ENGAGED: CHILDREN FACE OFF!"
Katherine is across from me, her face chalk white. She doesn't look at me, just stares at the paper like she's completely transfixed. I have the impulse to take out my phone and get a photo of her reaction, but I think that would be pushing it, since the Senator's face is exactly the opposite of ghost-white. It's nearly purple.
"It's really a flattering angle, though," I say. "For me, anyway. It doesn't do Katherine nearly as much justice. " That's not true. In the photo, her teeth are nearly bared and she looks practically feral. I shouldn't be so turned on by that, but I swear as I stand here looking at it, I feel my cock stir. This is probably not the best situation to display a hard-on for Senator Douchebag's daughter
, though. He looks like he's going to have a coronary. My mother gives me a look, and I'm almost concerned she's going to cut out my trust fund right now.
"Caulter," Ella warns.
"What the hell were the two of you thinking?" The Senator brings his fist down on the table, causing the paper to bounce, his voice booming.
I glance at Katherine, but she still doesn't look at me.
"Honey," Ella says.
"It's not as bad as it looks, dad," Katherine speaks, her voice soft.
"Not as bad as it looks?" The Senator clenches his fist again. This dude seriously needs to do some meditation or some weed or something. Like, whoo-sah, man. If he weren't talking, I wouldn't believe he was even taking a breath. "Tell me, how exactly do you think it looks for the daughter of a United States Senator to be on the front page of the newspaper, directing her middle finger at the son of his fiancé?"
Probably better than for the headline to read Senator's children fuck around, I think. But I hold my tongue. Mentally, I congratulate myself for my superb act of self-control.
Katherine surprises me by speaking. "I mean, really, it's not the front page. It's the front page of the social section. And it's the Post, so. . . "
I hold back a laugh, but not very well, so it comes out more like a snort. The Senator turns his gaze toward me. "And you. You think this is funny?"
I roll my eyes. "Look. It's an article in the paper. It's not the end of the fucking world. "
He crosses around to my side of the table, and I stand there, only because I can't really believe this guy is actually about to lose his shit, especially over something like this. I can think of at least twenty more scandals I've been involved in that are worse than this blip on the radar. It's when he grabs me by the collar of my shirt that I start to actually get pissed off. "Not the end of the fucking world?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. "You arrogant little shit. Your mother might cut you all the slack in the world, letting you piss away her money on clothes and drugs, but you don't come into my house and --"
I push his hands off me. "You want to get into it, Pops," I say, disgusted. "Let's go. "
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