And then suddenly with a horrible feeling, I realize something else-
I realize I’m naked.
Oh God, oh please God tell me I didn’t do what I think I did. Please tell me I didn’t lose-
I squeeze my eyes shut against the sudden wave of nausea rolling over me before I force myself to haltingly pull back the sheets and glance beneath them.
He’s wearing pants, thank God.
I also feel like I’d be, well, sore, if that’d happened last night. At least, that’s what always happens in movies or books when someone has sex for the first time.
I cringe again, frozen there in bed while Knox sleeps next to me. God, I almost lost my virginity last night, while completely drunk, to him.
To my stepbrother.
And then the rest of the night starts to trickle back as well; the humiliating way I put the most pathetic moves in the world on Josh - gay Josh, the pictures Knox was texting me at dinner, and- I frown suddenly; the story about Knox and that woman. The married woman and the mother of that poor kid Josh knew.
Ugh.
The nauseous feeling comes crushing back over me at the mere thought of him and someone else like that, especially someone like that.
As if on cue, he stirs next to me, grumbling as he slowly wakes and opens his eyes. I watch him have the same sudden shock I had at finding a person next to him, but he obviously takes it in better stride than I did.
Thank God I was the only one black-out drunk.
“Well, well,” He turns, grinning at me; “The life of the party awakens.”
“Get out.” I’m scowling at him, clutching the sheets to my naked body and narrowing my eyes at him.
Knox frowns; “Excuse me?”
“I said get out of my room, Knox,” I hiss.
“Jesus, Paige-” He rolls his eyes and sits up; “Look we didn’t do anything if that’s what you’re implying.” He smirks; “You took your own clothes off, just for the record.”
I can feel my face burning at the hazy memory of...oh God. I cringe as more of the blanks start to fill themselves in, and I turn away from him; “Please just go.”
“Paige, look, it’s fine. You were drunk, it happ-”
“Go, Knox; please.”
His eyes narrow at me for a second before he shakes his head; “Fine.”
I’m storming around my room, shoving things off my bed and poking around through pants pockets looking for my cigarettes before I remember I smoked the last of them last night waiting for her to get home.
Waste of some perfectly good cigarettes if you ask me.
I’m tempted to go jump on my bike and grab some more, but I’m also smart enough to know when I’m too angry and too out of my own head to drive it.
Fuck it, I should quit anyways.
Instead, I slump back on my bed, glaring up at the ceiling as I hear Paige come into the bathroom and start the shower. Before, I’d be coming up with sneaky and yet charming ways of getting myself in there with her. I’d be coming up with a funny and yet sexually loaded line to drop on her as I snuck my way under the spray of that shower with her.
Except now, no matter how close things got to getting really intense last night, I want no part of that. I was a fucking idiot to latch on to her like this, and it’s what I’ve been saying to myself all along, which is even more annoying. Why the hell was I following her around like a damn puppy-dog anyways? What, ‘cause some of my usual hookups are out of town?
Fuck that.
The shower is running, but instead of picturing her naked under the water, I’m still just glowering about the events of the previous night. I mean where the fuck does she get off judging me like that? Where does she get off getting mad at me for something that happened before I even knew her. And fuck that anyways! I’m not her fucking boyfriend.
Plus, she doesn’t even know the whole story. No one does because no one ever asks. At best, it’s jokes or a high-five when people hear about Cynthia. No one’s interested in my side of things; no one’s interested in how it felt to be used like that by a woman like that who knew I was way too young to be part of that.
The shower shuts off, and now I can’t help but think of her naked, nude and wet as she steps out of the shower and reaches for a towel to wrap around her soft, supple body.
Jesus, I need to get away from this.
The west wing of the house that’s been under construction since mom and I moved in isn’t technically ready until next week, but fuck that; I’m going to play pioneer. A little sheet-rock dust never hurt anyone anyways.
I immediately start grabbing up some pillows, a blanket, my laptop, and my bike helmet before storming down the hallway. The doorway leading into that side of the house still has plastic wrap over it, but I rip it aside as I make my way into the white-walled, newly finished rooms.
“Mr. Shepherd?” I turn to see one of the rotating cast of maids I keep seeing around the house peering at me curiously from back in the hallway. I immediately feel like a douchebag seeing as she clearly knows my name and I don’t know hers.
“Mr. Shepherd, your room in the west wing isn’t ready yet.”
“I know, it’s cool.”
She frowns; “But it’s still under const-”
“Yeah I’m really into carpentry. Just wanted to be around the work more.”
She gives me a strange look before nodding; “Well, OK, we’ll start moving your things right away.”
I roll my eyes; “No- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Elsa.”
“Elsa, I’ve got it.”
“It’s ok, we can-”
“Look, it’s fine, I can move my own things.”
She smiles; “It’s my job, Mr. Shepherd.”
Jesus, King Joe and his fucking slaves, or whatever.
“Fine, whatever,” I growl, shaking my head and stomping towards my new room.
There’s no furniture in here yet, so I just dump my bedding and pillows in a corner. I’ll drag my bed or a couch in here later.
I’m slumped in the corner in my shitty excuse for a bed later when Elsa and two men I don’t know if I’ve seen before start coming in with boxes and bins of my things from the old room.
Jesus, Paige and I...we’re seriously from different fucking worlds. I mean, this girl is going places. She’s going to run a company or some shit, and play Lincoln Center on the side most likely.
Me? I glower and stare out the window as one of Elsa’s helpers brings in the last box of my clothes and nods before leaving. I let my head hang. Me? I’m gonna be pumping gas is what I’m going to be doing if I don’t get my shit together.
And suddenly, this whole shitty morning with Paige is fine, because it all makes sense finally. I’ve been kidding myself and living in a fantasy escape messing around with a girl like that
And it’s time to start facing the reality.
So, Knox moved rooms.
Fine; be like that.
That horrible wake up and the worse exchange of words immediately afterwards was so tense that hearing the news from the staff that he was finally moving into his new room came as a relief. I mean, it’s obnoxiously overt, just up and dragging his stuff into the unfinished wing like that, but whatever.
Knox acting like a child; what else is new.
OK, at first it was almost weird with that much quiet on my side of the house, or having the bathroom to myself again. I’d gotten used to his messes; the toothpaste missing a cap a leaking onto the counter, the gross used q-tips on the floor next to the waste bin. Gross, yes, but it was also familiarity.
Hours later, the bathroom is much cleaner, but it’s also sort of boring that way.
But whatever, a day later, it’s better like this. I’ve been horrible with school prep and practice with him next door, which was getting ridiculous anyways.
Not to mention horribly inappropriate.
With him gone from the other side of the wall from me, I hit the books. And I’m trying b
ut certainly failing at trying not to think about the fact that I begged him to take my virginity the other night. I mean can you even imagine? Losing it drunk to my fucking stepbrother? How fucking trashy would that be? It’d be like something out of a daytime soap.
No freaking way.
Later that night, Amanda and my father head out to go play tennis or have cocktails with the Rileys. After I’m sufficiently satisfied that Knox has locked himself in his new room on the other side of the house, I go downstairs to play
And I really play.
I don’t play my own stuff, seeing as some of the cleaning staff is still around, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay on-book for my Columbia trials either. Instead, I play the next best thing: Chopin.
I play with my eyes looking almost through my hands, the world around me fading away. And it’s heartbreaking and full of sadness and melancholy as the notes drip from the keys, filling the great room that I’ve purposefully left dark. It’s so sad, in fact, that suddenly I realize I’m crying as I play.
I’m running from the room and back up to my room, and I’m pulling the keyboard out from under my bed and plugging in headphones. And then, with my songbook in my lap and a pen between my teeth, I start to play; really, really play. And suddenly, the words just start flowing, and for once, they’re real words, not ones I think I should write.
For once, the words that flow onto the page are from the heart instead of the head, and for once, they’re really about me instead of a made up version of myself.
I’m furious in my scribbling, just getting the words out across the pages as the tears start to trickle down my cheeks, and then I’m playing it again and again and again as they finally start to fall. Because I know what - and who - the words are about, this time.
And it’s killing me inside.
*****
“You play beautifully, you know.”
It’s two days later, and I turn at from the keys in front of me as Amanda comes steps into the room, smiling at me with two cups of something steaming in her hands.
“Oh, uh, thanks.”
It occurs to me that Amanda and I haven’t spent a whole lot of time together just the two of us without my dad there, which I guess is a little strange considering they’re getting married in a few months. That’s another weird thought, actually. This isn’t my dad’s girlfriend anymore, this is my soon-to-be step-mom.
Amanda frowns suddenly, worry crossing her face; “Oh, I’m sorry, did you have more practicing to do?” She shakes her head; “I’m so sorry, Paige, I’ll come back when-“
“No, it’s OK,” I say, getting up from the piano bench; “I’m done.”
Amanda smiles and hands one of the mugs in her hands to me; “Jasmine tea.”
“Thanks.” I take the cup warm mug in my hand, blowing on the steam coming off the top of it.
“Look, I don’t know if this is silly, but I just thought it might be nice for us girls to spend some time together,” Amanda shrugs in a very Knox way at me; “You know, just you and me.”
I grin; apparently I’m not the only one that’s been thinking that.
She shrugs; “I figured a rainy day might be a good time, since you wouldn’t be out with your friends or a hot date or anything”
Oh, right, all those wild times with all my crazy friends. And the closest thing to a hot date I’ve had, well, ever, is-
“He likes you, you know,” She says suddenly; “Knox, that is.”
I quickly drop my eyes into my tea mug; what is she, a freaking mind reader?
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say quickly, shaking my head; downplaying any hunches she might have.
“He’s a tough nut, my son,” She says with a light laugh and shake of her head.
Tell me about it
“But, I know my son, and I can tell he likes you.”
“Well, he’s-”
What, nice? Confusing? Occupying my every thought and creeping into places of my mind and my body where I shouldn’t let him go?
“He’s a nice guy.”
She rolls her eyes; “Oh, yeah. Well, my ‘nice guy’ of a son just quit his job at the fields your father got for him.”
I raise my brows in surprise; “With Mike?” I guess it was a little strange that I’d seen him around the house all day the last two days.
“Mhmm,” Amanda says with a sigh, shaking her head. She start to move towards the sofa, but then she turns suddenly, a frown on her face; “Ok this is going to sound really silly, but I think-” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she looks into her tea; “There’s something that’s been on my mind, and it’s just something I’ve noticed and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Oh God, she DOES know. I can feel the color start to drain from my face, my hands clenching tight around the mug of tea.
“I think I just want your blessing, Paige.”
HUH?
“With your dad, I mean. I realize we sort of sprung this on you, and- well, I just want to be sure you’re OK with this.”
I smile and nod, exhaling slowly; “Amanda, you and my Dad are adults, and-”
“I know that, Paige, but being an adult doesn’t mean you just stop thinking about things like suddenly coming into other people’s lives in a fairly permanent manner.”
I raise my eyebrows at her; “fairly permanent?”
Amanda laughs; “Quite permanent,” She raises a brow at me, not altogether different look than her son; “Smart ass,” She says with a sly grin and a laugh; “And since I’m sticking around, maybe you can get to work on my son.”
I wince, looking quickly away so she doesn’t see my face.
“He’s- Oh I have no idea. He’s angry, at me I think, but I don’t quite know why. Maybe for getting remarried.” I sit next Amanda on the couch, not saying anything, since I don’t know how in the world I’m supposed to talk about Knox right now with his mother, but I can tell she mostly just needs someone to listen.
“He’s a smart kid, you know. I just wish he’d follow through on all those acceptance letters. It’s such an opportunity for him!”
I frown, and this time, I do open my mouth; “Acceptance letters?”
“Oh, from all the schools his guidance counsel sent applications to.”
Wait-
Amanda shakes her head while I just sit there with my jaw on the floor; “He has such disdain for the idea of even going to college, even though he tests so highly he’d basically be able to matriculate to Junior or even Senior level.”
“Wait, what?”
She turns; “Did he not tell you this?” She rolls her eyes; “Well, that sound like him. He’s even got acceptance letters from graduate level business schools, you know.”
I’m in shock. Snarky, cigarette-smoking, tattooed, authority-bucking Knox Shepherd is also apparently kind of a genius? Why haven’t I heard this from him?
Crude: A Stepbrother Romance Page 15