Stolen Crush

by Stunich, C. M.

  “Dakota Banks,” my grandmother breathes, aghast at the very idea. I’d have never done anything like this back home. There wouldn't have been any reason to. At the very least, even if I’m being scolded, I'm being called by my own name. “Tess is a woman with a lot of trauma in her background. Imagine if she finds you missing? What will her reaction be?” Guilt sweeps over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in cold and foam and salt. I know what her reaction will be because I’ve already seen it. “Honey,” she starts, and I get the idea that she’s shoring herself up to say something she’d rather not. “You know that your grandfather and I miss you more than anything. That we’d do anything to get you back.”

  “I know that,” I whisper, dropping my head slightly. I stare at the rough surface of the wooden table beside my coffee cup. They really would do anything. I know because I saw them try, saw them fight against an impossible storm. Tess’ money, those awful DNA tests, the publicity, the threats to Saffron … Trafficking a kidnapped child across state lines comes with hefty prison sentences. Instead, she was offered a guilty-time-served verdict for the time she spent in jail during the negotiations. I want to believe that Tess did that because she was trying not to hurt me, but really, I think it was just a bargaining chip to use against my grandparents.

  “I wish your grandfather was here to see you,” she tells me with a slight frown. “But he’s having surgery on his leg today. Did you tell her about that, Maxine? How the old fool broke his ankle trying to move a bunch of dirt?” She huffs out an exasperated sound, but it does nothing to hide the anguish lurking just beneath the surface. We’re both fairly shitty actors, it seems. Must run in the family.

  As soon as that thought hits me, I feel my fake smile begin to crack at the edges.

  “What time will he be out of surgery?” Maxine asks, and my grandmother answers, as if this is a normal conversation between family members, as if nothing at all is going on. Maybe … maybe we can just pretend that I’m away at college like Maxine? “Make sure to call me as soon as you hear anything, and I’ll pass the news on to Dakota.”

  My grandmother hesitates for a minute, glancing off to one side. She's only fifty-nine—Grandma had Saffron at twenty-one, and Saffron had Maxine at nineteen—but her face looks so old and tired right now, in a way that it didn't before. Heavy, that’s what it looks like. Like her emotions are too heavy to wear on her face.

  “I don't want to advocate you sneaking out of the house, but … if you get any opportunities like this again—to call us, I mean—without Tess knowing, then … Well, I'm just saying that I won’t hesitate to answer.”

  I choke on whatever it is that I was about to say, knowing that I can’t stay here long, that I have to get back before Tess notices that I’m missing. If I don’t, then I'll ruin any chance I might have for sneaking out in the future.

  “Miss you and love you fierce,” is all that I manage to get out.

  “Miss you and love you fierce,” my grandmother replies, kissing the screen with her bright red lipstick, the color she always wears, that makes me think of home. The call ends, and Maxine very carefully sets her phone on the table.

  “Do you think you could give me a ride home?” I blurt out, because I want to be alone to … I don't know, feel? Why does it seem so much harder to just feel things in front of other people? “The ride that got me here, well, he’s long-gone.” The words come out dry and caustic, and Maxine frowns. Before she can answer, however, X speaks up.

  “I'll take you,” he offers, giving Maxine a long look. “That way, Tess won't see you with Maxie. And anyway, I was hoping to stop by and visit Parrish before the party. If you duck down when we pass through the gate, I bet you can get in and act like you never left before Tess even notices.”

  It’s a good idea, actually, so I nod and pick up my coffee as my sister looks on helplessly.

  “Stay,” she says, putting her hand over mine. “Just for a little while. I'll tell you all the bullshit gossip from campus, and you can complain about your sexy stepbrother—”

  “Sexy?” X interjects, raising two dark brows.

  We both ignore him.

  “Please,” Maxine pleads, pouting out her lower lip in that way she knows that I can't resist.

  “His sexiness doesn’t make up for his awful personality,” I grumble, dragging my coffee closer and pushing down the overwhelming urge to cry. What good will that do me? Sure, I’m a bit of an introvert, and I far prefer the great indoors to the great outdoors, but I’ve never been a sulker or a crier—not that there’s anything wrong with that. It just isn’t who I am. “Fine, I can stay, but not for too long. Otherwise, we won’t be able to do this next weekend.” I flash Maxine a pleading look of my own and she laughs.

  “I’ll have to pick up some extra shifts at the Dari Mart to cover the gas money, but you know what? I’d do anything for my baby sister.” She throws an arm around my neck and drags me close so she can kiss all over my face. I pretend to bat her away, but only pretend, because in reality, I like the attention.

  “I’ll cover the gas money,” X offers, and my sister lets out this disgustingly contented sigh that has me sticking out my tongue. Gods, she really did find a good one, huh?

  “You see why I like him?” she asks, beaming down at me. I glance his way and feel that strange fluttery feeling in my belly again, like butterflies are taking off in a place where they should most definitely not be.

  “I see,” I tell her, crushing the silly winged insects of my emotions before they cause any trouble. Like I said, you can control your actions even if your thoughts and feelings are all over the place. It’s a perk of being human. “Thank you, Maxx.” I sigh and shake my head. “I mean X. It’s still weird that you guys have the same name.”

  “Technically I’m Maxine, and he’s Maxim,” she clarifies, and I struggle to hold back a snort as X’s face gets this sly look to it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me.

  “Go ahead and say it,” he tells me, lifting his drink in salute. The shape of his mouth is criminal, a treat crafted of confidence, self-deprecation, and good humor. Crap. How shit-tastic. X’s mouth is most definitely a treat I shouldn’t be eating—even with my eyes. It’s too cringe, checking out your sister’s boyfriend. “I know what you're thinking.”

  “You mean … that your name is the name of a men’s magazine?” I choke out, struggling to control a laugh. Maxine grins big beside me and leans back in her chair, her smile and her casual attitude doing much to put me at ease.

  “It’s also a name of Latin origin that means ‘the greatest’,” Maxx tells me with this naturally cocky smile that probably wins him many a favor with his classmates. He really is handsome, and in a different way than Parrish. Parrish has that hot-cold, aloof, rich-boy artist thing going on. Maxx ‘X’ Wright has a down-to-earth confidence that Maxine could really use in her life.

  “Bet you spend a lot of time practicing that retort in the mirror, huh?” I ask, noticing that his lips curl up at the edges in response. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a porn star name. Don’t apologize, just roll with it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” X tells me, his smile growing even wider. “I never do. My parents picked my name off a ‘Top Ten Hot Guy Names’ list that they found online, kid you not. Guess it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, huh?”

  “Wow, cocky much?” I retort, turning my attention to Maxine. “You have your hands full with this one, Maxie.”

  She glances back at her boyfriend, and her face softens in that disgusting way that people in love do. Gross. While many people dream of looking like that one day, nobody else likes to look at them while they’re doing it. I barely stifle a snort, and Maxine elbows me in the side.

  By the time I hug my sister goodbye and climb into a shiny new Jeep Gladiator with X, I’m feeling much better. Almost normal. But the closer we get to the house, and the gate with all the reporters? Those crappy feelings come rushing right back.

  “This sucks a
ss,” I murmur, doing my best to bury my face in my hands. “If I ever wanted to be famous—and I don’t—I wouldn’t want to be famous for being stolen. Who wants that?” I glance over at X and find him chewing his lower lip in thought. It’s full and shiny, but with the slightest indent, like this is a common habit of his.

  I force myself to turn back to the road. Focus on the lines, Kota. You can do this.

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asks me, seemingly at random. A quick glance over at me, a charming smile, and I’ve just forgotten my own name. I’m not usually this boy-crazy, swear on the future existence of Wi-Fi that I’m telling the truth. Maybe there’s something in the water here? Between Chasm, Maxx, and … well, I guess Parrish is physically attractive even if his personality is atrocious. I wish fervently that I could look past his tousled chocolate waves and gold-flecked eyes to the black and twisted soul that lies beneath.

  GAH! Stop fixating, Kota! Why are you so obsessed with that douche? Who cares about him anyway?

  “I toyed with the idea of starting an OnlyFans account,” I begin, waiting patiently for Maxx to laugh and then pause, and then silence. Silence …

  “Seriously?” he asks after a moment, but not in a judgmental way, more like he expected a punchline to come after a joke. “I mean, I hear you can make big money …”

  “You have an OnlyFans account?” I ask, pretending to be shocked. I once tried this joke on my grandma, but she doesn’t know that OnlyFans is an, erm, paywall porno site, so she didn’t get it. Also, it commoditizes women’s bodies, so I’m not into it. “You okay if I look you up?”

  “You want to see me naked?” X asks, his voice pitched just a tad lower than it should. “I have to warn you: once you do, your expectations will be unfairly raised.”

  “My expectations for what?” I counter back, just before we make the final turn onto the street that leads to Tess’ place, and my mood drops out from under me like an elevator intent on crashing into the bottom floor. “Shit.”

  “Duck down and cover your head.” Max pauses just before the left turn that will take us toward the front gate, slipping off his jacket and passing it over to me. “Here.”

  I take the red windbreaker from him, rubbing my thumb against the fabric as that fresh grass and aftershave smell washes over me again. I should ask him what fragrance he uses because damn, that’s nice. Quickly as I can, I take my seatbelt off and slide to the floor, following his instructions until we’re safely inside the gate.

  Maxx pulls into the garage without a second thought, hitting a button on his own sun visor that closes it behind us.

  Huh.

  When he said that he and Parrish and Chas were friends, I guess I didn’t realize that he was as close to the family as Chasm is now. If he’s got their damn garage programmed into his car, then he must’ve been, right? Must still be.

  I hop out of the car and toss his jacket back on the seat like it’s hot, scrambling away just in time to see the side door open. Parrish is there, barefoot and shirtless—his preferred style of loungewear despite his mother’s, err, Tess’ complaints. As soon as he sees me standing there, his eyes narrow and I can see by the look on his face that he knows.

  “How on earth did you manage to wrangle this?” he hisses at me, just before Tess appears behind him, beaming from ear to ear. She gives me an odd look, like she can’t quite understand why I’ve rushed down to greet someone that I’m not supposed to know, but then brushes it aside in order to give Maxx a big smile.

  I notice she doesn't hug him. Nobody in this family seems particularly interested in showing affection of any kind. They're the WASPiest people I’ve ever met in my life, and I’m from the East Coast. There are super WASPs up there, no doubt.

  “We’ve missed you, Maxx,” she says, pushing open the door to the house to invite him in. She flicks a look at Parrish that he returns with a steely, brown-eyed stare. “I didn't know you were coming by today?” Tess turns it into a question, but I can tell by the way she stares at her stepson that he’s going to get it later.

  “Neither did I,” Parrish adds dryly, giving me another look. “But he’s hardly ever in town. You’re not going to kick him out, are you?”

  “Parrish Vanguard,” Tess snaps, and I fight my hardest to push back a sadistic grin. At the very least, if Tess is going to be a hard-ass, I enjoy seeing Parrish get his. I wasn’t sure he was ever punished for anything. “Parrish and Mia are grounded,” she explains to X, almost apologetically. Not a person in that garage misses the way I cringe when she says it.

  Mia.

  As Shakespeare once said, What's in a name? That which we call a rose / By Any Other Name would smell as sweet. I shouldn’t take it to heart. It truly is just a word, but it means so much more. It stands for so much more.

  “I won’t stay long,” Maxx promises, tucking his battered hands into the pockets of his jeans. Even the way he does that, such a casual, normal move, makes my heart jump. I frown and Parrish notices. His eyes take me in from head to toe, absorbing the careful waves of my hair, the makeup on my face, the black leather sandals.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tess says, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”

  She pulls Maxx ahead with her to chat, but I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on me, almost apologetically, like he wants to correct the Mia thing for me. But that would blow our cover, and I can’t have that. The last thing I need is Tess knowing that Maxx is dating my sister. She’d probably ban him from the premises, and I’d feel even more trapped in this icebox.

  “Did you seriously sneak out to go on a date?” Parrish asks me, and I notice that his left hand is bleeding. There’s a fresh tattoo there, one that I can’t quite make out beneath all the blood. He notices me staring and then frowns even harder, glancing down at the design before swiping the blood across his pajama pants.

  “No, actually,” I retort, feeling that strange sense of competitive spitefulness take over me. Why the hell am I letting this dick dig at me like this? Parrish isn’t the first asshole I’ve ever been around. I usually try to take a page from my favorite Twitch streamer’s—negaoryx is her online handle—book and educate trolls, assholes, and misogynists the best I can. “My sister just so happens to be dating your bestie. He gave me a ride so that I could see her.”

  I decide it’s best to keep the Chasm bit to myself. Somehow, it feels like I might lose something precious by giving that up. Silly, I know, but there it is.

  Parrish stares at me for a long moment, wiping the blood on his pants again. That can’t be good for the tattoo, can it? My eyes drop down to his hand before lifting up again to his face. For the briefest of seconds, it looks like he might say something meaningful. Because I’m an eternal optimist, I get a strange hope inside my chest that he might be considering an apology for the other day.

  Then he blinks, and his mouth twists into this sharp frown that would take a team of specially trained psychiatrists to diagnose. They’d all need advanced degrees in filthy rich boys just to figure him out.

  “I guess you’ll keep your mouth shut and help me escape this dungeon tonight, won't you?” he asks, but it’s not just a question, is it? No, it’s a threat.

  My defense mechanisms slam into place, and that happy, floating feeling that Maxine left me with disappears in a puff of smoke. A fairy-tale is what that was. A fairy-tale where I’m still Dakota Banks instead of Mia Patterson with a stepbrother who hates me for reasons that are completely out of my control.

  “I never asked to be kidnapped, you know?” I snap at him, feeling my hands curl into tight fists. The day of my kidnapping remains a mystery to me. I have no memory of it. How could I be expected to? “I was two freaking years old. I was stolen from daycare. It wasn't Tess’ fault, and it most certainly wasn’t mine either.”

  Parrish looks taken aback for the briefest of moments, but his eyes narrow even further, as if the hooding of his lids can protect him from the reality of the situation. He’s deci
ded to hate me because he’s jealous. Because he doesn’t like change. Because Tess was an overprotective parent for most of his life and he feels like he missed out on something. From what I can see, maybe he didn't miss out on enough?

  “You're so spoiled,” I breathe, feeling my own eyes narrow. I should probably stop right there, but I can’t help myself. My tongue feels like a wild thing, a caged animal trapped inside the confines of a perpetually smiling mouth. That’s one thing I can say about Parrish Vanguard: he frees me from the shackles of my niceness, from my attempts to be pleasant, from thinking of other people so much that I sometimes forget to think about myself. Around him, I can just be selfish and cruel, unfiltered and angry. “How can you be so mad and so unhappy when you’re so goddamn spoiled?!”

  “Oh, you just wait,” he hisses, a cruel smile taking over his lips. They’re very pretty lips, too, as if somehow the universe deigned to grant him this cruel and unusual means to lure in prey. “Until you see what you’ve gotten as a birthday present. Then we’ll see who the spoiled one truly is.”

  He sweeps past me, our bare arms brushing.

  A wild spark flares between us, enough so that Parrish actually stops and looks back at me. But instead of confusion or curiosity showing on his face, he looks almost … scared? That emotion fades in the blink of an eye and then he’s back to being pissed off again. His perpetual default.

  He turns away, even as I open my mouth to speak. Whatever I was going to say is lost, and I swallow back the emotion like I always do.

  Back inside the house, I find Kimber chatting happily in Maxx’s direction as Tess looks down at her phone with a slight crease in her brow. She pauses to glance up at me, this softening of her features reminding me of my sister when she was looking at Maxx. It might not be romantic love, but it’s love all the same. Tess is looking at me like she needs me, and I don’t know how to process that. I might’ve developed inside her belly, she might’ve changed my diapers and breastfed me and cared for me for two years, but … I don’t remember her at all. Except for the smell of her perfume, that is.