“So weird,” Cella comments. “How is it living with the dork?”
“It hasn’t been twenty-four hours, so the jury is still out.”
“Ew,” Bris says, her pink lips twisted with a grimace.
We all watch them doing whatever the hell it is they’re doing with the insane pants.
“Rather you than me,” Bris adds but Molly chimes in, “Travis isn’t so bad, he’d be hot if he stopped dressing and acting like such a loser.”
I pretend to gag because it’s as Bris said, “Ew.”
Stepdork catches my eyes and I’m about to give him a polite nod when Lake of all people grabs me suddenly and throws me over his shoulder. He’s quiet for such a big guy. I squeal and laugh all the way to his car where he deposits me on the hood and proceeds to kiss the life right out of me. I can hardly breathe as his tongue presses against my own; it almost feels like he’s fucking my mouth.
“Whore,” Cella cries through cupped hands across the lot.
I flip her off and continue kissing the guy I’ve been seeing on and off for the past eight months. Much to the envy of almost every girl in school.
Lake is devastatingly handsome, one of the most handsome guys at Katherine-Lee High. Problem is, he knows it. Though he’s not as arrogant as Parker Nolan for example, he’s still pretty arrogant but I kind of like that about him.
He’s got dark honey-colored skin and buzzed, black hair with a pattern of zig zags and stripes along one side. He plays football of course, a linebacker which makes sense because his shoulders are massive and he has a relatively big head. He makes me feel positively tiny and can toss me around like a ragdoll.
“Tell me again why we always cool things off?” he whispers in my ear as his lips trail down my neck.
I sigh and part my legs so he can lift me again, this time with my legs wrapped around his hips. “So we can feel this intense lust for each other when we come back together.”
“Right.” He grins up at me, now that I’m higher than him. Kissing me again, he lets me drop to the floor and leads me away from his friends and back to mine. “I’ll be waiting here last bell.”
“Me too.” I bite my lip as I watch him walk away, goofing around with his football buddies. When I look back at Stepdork he’s already on his way inside. Good riddance. I hope he doesn’t suddenly think he can start hanging with us now that he’s my stepbrother. I mean, it’s not even official yet, our parents aren’t married. Not until May.
“Come on, I don’t want to be late,” Cella grabs my bag strap and pulls me toward the main doors. I follow still floating after that kiss.
Today is going to be a good day.
It’s almost ten when I’m home. Curfew was nine thirty so I’m relieved to see my dad’s car isn’t home when Lake drops me off. My lips are sore from too much kissing and I’m so fucking horny I can’t see straight. We didn’t get to do the deed, but we did some dry humping in the back seat of his truck.
Our usual spot up on kissing hill was taken, unfortunately.
“Bye, lover,” I whisper playfully as I close the truck door.
“Blue balls, babe, major blue balls.”
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” I respond, blowing him a kiss. He waits until I’m out of sight before driving away. I hear his engine purr to nothing as I’m closing the back door behind me. Normally I’d go through the front but I wanted him to watch my ass for as long as possible.
“You’re late,” Stepdork snaps the second the door closes making me squeal.
I place my hand over my heart and control my breathing. “Are you kidding me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Mom and Maxen aren’t home, they told me to wait up for you and to call if you weren’t home by nine thirty.”
I move to the fridge and grab a bottle of my dad’s beer. “Did you call them?”
“No.”
I smile mischievously at him over my shoulder. “Did you worry?”
“The more time that passed, the more I worried about getting into trouble if you were murdered before nine thirty and I didn’t call them at nine thirty, yes.”
Laughing, I grab the bottle opener from the perfectly organized drawer and pop the lid off. When I pull myself onto the side and take a swig, Stepdork shakes his head, he’s always judging me on everything I do.
“Want one?”
“On a school night?”
Blink. “Christ, you’re uptight.”
“No, I just care about my future.” He stands, wearing gray-and-white plaid pajamas. His glasses are perched on his nose and his hair, as per usual, is across his line of sight. “I’m going to bed.”
“What was with those silver pants today?” I ask, because I’ve been wondering about it all day.
He shrugs and looks sheepish all of a sudden. “Science experiment, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Why?” I ask, frowning. “Because I’m dumb?”
He hesitates, looking surprised. “No, I just… I meant… I didn’t…”
I cut him off, there’s no explaining himself out of this one, “When will the parentals be home? Any time soon?”
“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you opened the beer?” His lips twitch and I wonder if he’s stifling a smile.
Stepdork can be funny. “Nah. Dad won’t mind.”
“Your dad doesn’t mind a lot of stuff you do,” he comments as he looks me up and down, from the top of my dark-brown, disheveled-looking, almost-fucked hair to my heavy black boots that I should have taken off when I walked in. “Drugs, alcohol, late nights…”
“Weed, one beer, I got horny, I wouldn’t expect Mr. Antisocial to understand. Have your balls even dropped yet?”
His cheeks pink and I know I’ve embarrassed him. He really doesn’t like me and I just have to keep pushing his buttons to make it worse. I just don’t have it in me to be kind to people who show me no kindness.
“Why do you have an issue with what I do?”
“If it has the chance to upset my mom, I have an issue. I’ve known you years, Raven. You scrape by on your classes, you get in fights every other week, you look down your nose at anyone who doesn’t dress the way you do, party the way you do, sleep around the way you do.”
“Says you, Stepdork. Tell me the last time you made a friend outside of your regular social circle?”
“I tried, remember? Look how that turned out,” he snaps and then visibly tenses when I laugh but it’s not a laugh of happiness or humor, more one of disbelief because I know exactly what he’s referring to.
“No way, you’re really holding that against me?” I down the rest of my beer and toss it into the garbage. It helps take the edge of anger away that I’m feeling. “It was fourth grade, you absolute fruit loop. My mom had just died!”
“You didn’t get told about your mom until later so don’t try that bull with me. This self-destructive path you’re on has to end before it hurts my mom and your dad. Not that he seems to care what you do. It’s not okay.” He narrows his eyes at me projecting his hatred through his glowering hazel irises and dilated pupils. “One day he’s going to have to hold you accountable and stop blaming your behavior on your mother’s death.”
His words, though carefully calm and also probably true, hit a mark in my chest that gets my hackles rising. How dare he? I fight to remain neutral. I’m good at this. Fighting I mean. I can hold my own. But not where my mom is concerned.
Fuck, that’s a low blow.
“Talk about my mom again, dick. I dare you.”
He rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room, leaving me alone to my rage. I grab another bottle of beer and head to my room, making sure to knock on his as I pass. I’m going to do that every fucking time. I’m going to make his life here so shit he’ll leave for college early and leave me alone.
“Stupid jackass,” I say, placing my bottle on the windowsill.
“Heard that,” he replies, though it’s muffled and hardly audible through the wall.
This time he doesn’t reply, because he’s not immature enough to bite and now I feel like an idiot.
“I hate him. I hate him like a rash. I want him to leave before I have to leave.” I roll onto my back and sling an arm over my eyes. My feet press into the soft mat of the lounger I’m on.
We’re supposed to be decorating my bedroom, but the sun is shining and I really need to bake my tan a little bit more. Plus, Cella got bored and Molly got hungry.
Bris is swimming laps in the pool. Or trying to. She’s not the most graceful swimmer. I’ve never seen somebody splash so much. She swims like she’s trying to break through ice.
It’s a nice spray of cool water as she goes by us though.
“Is this about what he said the other day?” Molly asks around a mouthful of bread.
Oh carbs, how I miss thee.
“Oh no, it gets better,” Cella says, having been the one to suffer my grumblings this week.
We haven’t seen much of Molly this week because she’s been sick and Bris has been with Parker sucking face every chance she gets. So gross.
“The little fucktard is like majorly OCD and we have to share a bathroom, right? So he is constantly organizing and bleaching and shit like that.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Molly says, still eating.
“Close your mouth, skank.” Cella grins at our mutual friend. “Nobody wants to see that.”
Bris swims to the side of the pool closest to us. “What’s going on?”
“Well.” I sit up, straddle the sun lounger and look at them all. “He decided to mop the floor like a weirdo, and instead of picking up my clothes and dropping them in my room, he pushed them with the mop, so hello, bleach stains.”
“Oh no, he didn’t,” Molly gasps, her mouth now wide open and showing a mixture of sloppy bread and ham.
“Close your dick-sucking mouth,” Cella yells at her, throwing a small towel directly at her face.
“Why didn’t you put your clothes in the hamper?” Bris asks and I shoot her a glare.
“I usually do, okay, but I was high, I forgot! He could have told me to move them and I would have.” We haven’t spoken at all since that night in the kitchen, we actively avoid each other at all costs.
Bris cringes. “What a snake.”
“Right?” Cella agrees.
I fake sob for a moment. “It was my Beatles shirt, the one we got from that greasy bridge guy on the strip.”
“Oh no, I loved that shirt.” Molly pats me on the arm, leaving breadcrumbs behind.
“Ew,” I murmur and brush them off with the side of my hand.
Cella pulls out a cigarette and pops it between her lips. She lights it with her favorite dolphin-shaped lighter and relaxes back on her lounger. “He’s such a loser.”
“Oh my God, he’s at the window upstairs!” Molly hisses, without pointing or drawing too much attention. Cella and I both look up, over the pool and above the kitchen window. There he is, standing at his window though I can’t tell if he’s looking at us or not.
“Probably batting one off to our sexy bodies,” Cella comments and flips him off. “Look all you like, perv, you’ll never have this!”
“Closest he’s getting to a vagina is the moment he exited his mom’s,” Bris states and we all burst into a fit of laughter.
We relax back and she goes back to swimming.
I roll onto my front, ignoring the weirdo loser that I now have to spend my time with. “We should really finish painting my room.”
“Meh.” Cella flips her glasses down. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, what she said,” Molly puts in and yawns loudly. “Shonda makes the best grub.”
I nod my agreement. “Sure beats box mac ’n’ cheese.”
He’s gone when I turn back over to tan my front and I wonder why he was there to begin with.
I will get him back for what he did to my clothes though and he knows it. I’m that level petty. He has fucked up big-time. It is on.
Sunday morning comes, our dreaded first family day together.
“Breakfast is ready,” she calls, waking me for the third time and it’s not even ten yet. Sundays are shit. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get your asses down here or no friends over tomorrow.”
Fuck. Sundays are mega shit.
I roll out of bed in shorts and a tank top, my hair is tangled around my face. I can hardly see I’m so tired, but I’ve got plans tomorrow. I can’t be grounded.
When I stumble out of my room while yawning, I collide with somebody else with an oomph. We fall into the wall and his arms come around me in a bid to steady us both.
His back takes the brunt of it and my face squishes into his hard, yet soft and warm chest.
“Dude,” I mutter, peering up through my lashes at a well-put-together-looking Stepdork. “Watch where you’re going.”
He’s still holding me, his strong arms have formed a band around my entire body. Seeming to lock me in place as though worried I’ll be unstable if he lets go. He’s stronger than he looks.
I’m surprised when he immediately asks, “Are you okay?” Instead of reacting to my harshly spoken accusation.
“Dandy,” I mutter, pulling back, putting some distance between us. I instantly miss the warmth, purely because I just like being held sometimes. Especially in the mornings. I’ve always woken up rough. When I was younger, I’d climb in with my dad and he’d hold me until I woke up fully. But now that’s obviously not going to happen because it’s definitely weird. I’m practically a woman.
Lake doesn’t hold me either, we don’t have that kind of relationship. Usually when we’ve finished hooking up he plays on a game or smokes a joint and I get dressed and fuck off home. It works for us for the most part.
“You look broken.”
“I don’t do mornings,” I mutter. This is the first time we’ve seen each other before school. He’s usually gone before I even hit the kitchen. “Coffee.”
“You have so many bad habits,” he replies quietly, his usual frown back in place.
“I give no fucks what you think of me and my habits.” I head toward the stairs, putting even more distance between us.
He follows.
“Oh dear,” Shonda murmurs when she gets one look at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod as my dad who is plating up some delicious-looking eggs replies for me, “She’s not good in the mornings.”
“She’s been fine this week?” Shonda looks nervous. I’m not a serial killer. I’m just tired. Fucking hell.
“You didn’t see her until she’d showered and dressed,” Dad always answers for me.
I move to the coffeepot and pour myself a cup. Stepdork sits on a stool and thanks Shonda for the food as I nurse my coffee like it’s a newborn. I’d start cooing at it with gratitude if I didn’t think it would get me a one-way ticket to the psych ward.
“So, how was school?” Shonda asks as my dad places his hands on my shoulders and guides me to my stool.
“Okay,” I lie. I’m a few grades away from failing some of the subjects I’ve taken this year. Dad’s going to kill me.
“Great.” Travis’ eyes light up. “We’ve almost finished the pants experiment.”
I snort, remembering the massive foil pants on that dweeb back in the parking lot.
My dad elbows me and Shonda shoots me a frown.
“I’m not laughing at him,” I say, rolling my eyes but they don’t look like they believe me.
I zone out as they chat animatedly about science and physics and forensics and all the shit that just doesn’t interest me.
“What’s your favorite subject in school?” Shonda asks me, putting me on the spot.
“Art,” I reply and this time Travis snorts and his mom elbows him.
“I wasn’t laughing at her,” he says, his tone and words mocking.
My eyes narrow further as I retort, “I actually wasn’
t laughing at you. I was laughing about the stupid fucking pants your friend was wearing.”
“Language,” Shonda sighs.
My dad waves a hand between Travis and me. We’re both glaring at each other so harshly if this was an anime sketch one of us would have dropped dead already. “Can you both try to get along?”
“No,” I reply on a snarl at the exact moment Travis declares, “She’s far too difficult.”
“Who speaks like that?” I ask reaching forward and flicking the lens of his huge glasses.
“Don’t flick my glasses,” he warns.
“Or what?” I taunt and reach forward to flick them again but my dad grabs my hand in mid-air.
“Enough, both of you!” Dad shouts.
“What is it with you both?” Shonda asks, sounding a lot calmer than my dad.
“Nothing!” we both snap and look at our plates.
I force a piece of sausage into my mouth, still reeling over how angry he makes me. He does the same and I notice my dad and Shonda share concerned looks with each other.
Fortunately, we’re all saved by the phone ringing on the counter by the door. Shonda moves to answer it then looks at her son with a sad face, “It’s your dad, Travis.”
Travis tenses. “Tell him I’m not here.”
“Clearly he knows now that you are,” she replies and holds out the cordless. “Just take the call.”
Travis stands, snatches the phone from her and leaves the room. He doesn’t come back until we’ve all finished eating and his mood has soured greatly.
“Everything okay?” Shonda asks him quietly.
“Fine,” he murmurs at his plate. I watch him push around the food he was excited to eat earlier and feel a pinch of guilt inside. He looks so lost right now. I wonder what his dad said.
Shonda squeezes his arm and moves away, giving him the space he needs.
I look at my dad who looks sad too.
“I’m going to work out,” I mutter and quickly escape the room but not before yelling my thanks for breakfast over my shoulder.
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