Stepbrother Tormentor 2 of 2

by Brother, Stephanie

  "Cool spot," he says after an unpleasant silence. Not certain if he is faking ignorance for mine or his sake, or if it is for real, I watch him stretch out next to me, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. The minutes that follow are filled by the sun reflecting of the water and a soft breeze, and a silence that I try to break. But I can't come up with anything to say. Nothing casual, at least. Anything would do, really, as long as it doesn't make me feel like a fool. I may be eighteen but with him near, I always sound like a little girl, not the woman that I am or want to be.

  "So this is where you are when you're not around," he says, without the scorn that has become another of his trademarks.

  "Yeah," I say carefully. I haven't made up my mind yet if I trust this new version of my stepbrother. For all I know, he'll be gone if I blink fast enough. Observing him from the corner of my eyes, I just wait, not certain what else to do.

  "Good," he says, "then I'll know where to find you." My heart skips a beat and wants to dance, but bitter experience holds me back. "There's a party tonight," he continues. "Want to come?"

  Stephan

  Why? Why did I ask that? Anger rises to the surface and I silently curse myself. I know exactly why: because my resolve is weakening. Each moment I've watched her lie next to me, shadows and sunlight competing in a restless dance for a place on her freckled skin,the resolve that was like iron grew a little weaker until it is the way it is now: brittle. Bad steel. Weak. Not the kind for knives and swords, but for crap. Then again, what is the alternative? Hurt her? I'll just have to be man enough to act civil in her vicinity, and try to ignore the frustration and hunger that consumes me.

  Cassandra

  A bug crawls up my ankle and it itches, but I'm grateful for the distraction. Like a fool, my heart jumps at the idea of reading something into the invitation, only to crash as I remind myself of last night. An act of pity is what it is, and don't I know it. Shaking my head, not trusting my voice not to betray my feelings, I turn my head and close my eyes even tighter to keep the damn tears imprisoned behind my eyelids.

  "No, thanks," I say. Ready to receive the sarcastic remark that I'm certain will come—"Too busy doing nerdy things, eh?"—I hold my breath and wait like a sentenced woman for the executioner to bring down the axe. But nothing but nothing comes, and I'm equally relieved and disappointed when I sense him sit up.

  "Right," he says, in a way that tells me he's relieved I didn't take him up on the offer. Just as I thought: an act of pity for the silly stepsister from the cool stepbrother. I keep my eyes shut until I'm certain he is gone, two solitary tears spilling when I open them and look at the branches and leaves above me.

  "Asshole," I say under my breath. Instead of allowing myself to get lost in self-pity, I turn on my phone and call Stacy. When we first met in kindergarten she looked at me long and hard, with her hands on her hips and her head cocked, and I swear that is when she decided that we would be best friends forever. In true Stacy-style, she never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to be her friend, but she has been the best friend I've ever had ever since. Annoying at times, but I still love her to death. Maybe it’s because we are exact opposites in every way possible that our friendship works, or maybe we are simply both crazy enough to put up with each other's idiosyncrasies.

  Stacy is as wild and extroverted as I am reserved and silent. I'm the wallflower and she is beyond cool, allowing her to get away with anything. Like hanging out with a girl like me.

  "If you can stop daydreaming about that well-hung stud of yours—no, don't ask how I know!—you can join me," she says when she answers, not even giving me a chance to say anything.

  "In purgatory?" I ask

  "I'll pick you up in thirty." Of course she will, and I'm actually relieved to have her release me from my self-imposed solitude despite my earlier protest. What good will that bring me anyway?

  Stephan

  Drawn by the roar of the engine, I look out the window and see Stacy pull up the driveway in her VW Beetle convertible with the top down. Cassandra's shadow and best friend. The one who truly doesn't give a shit about anything except for Cassandra and I admire her for it. Only moment after she blasts the horns do I hear Cassandra’s footsteps approach and recede as she passes my room and down the stairs.

  Instead of pulling myself away from the window, I stay. Hungry to have a look of her, like a beggar glad for any crumbs that fate might throw his way, ignoring Stacy's eyes, which focus in on me. Normally, I'd be happy to flash her a smile, but not today. Not after all the shit that’s gone down. And then there is the way Cassandra responded, like something had happened. Something I should recall, but can't. Something important, judging from the way she looked. The truth is that I don't even recall how I got home last night.

  When Cassandra appears, she doesn't disappoint. She’s wearing one of the summer dresses that I know are her favorite. This one is as green as her emerald eyes and the hem dances seductively around her perfect legs as she walks to the car, the fabric stretching tight around her breasts when she raises a hand to greet Stacy. She moves like a natural dancer, slender and fragile, and it brings the beast inside me to the surface. Makes me want to push her against the wall and slide my hand between her legs, kiss her hard. Cursing my cock when it stirs, I push my lust to the background and keep watching.

  I'm even more grateful for Stacy being her friend when I see the genuine smile that lights up her face as Stacy shouts at her to move her ass or they're going to miss the movie.

  "What? You forgot you need me to explain the plot?" Cassandra shoots back. She never sounds that happy with me. But who am I to complain? Mr. Asshole. The one she knows Stacy throws another look and a wink at when she looks up at my window one last time, and I'm stupid enough to hope that Cassandra will turn her head just so she can see me. Just so I can offer a smile. But she doesn't, and I know it is because she knows it is me. The stepbrother she wishes she never had.

  And now I'll have to redeem myself, if only to restore my own self-respect.

  Cassandra

  Stacy is practically drooling, openly eye-fucking him. The girl is an incurable slut, and even though I know it isn't personal, a stab of jealousy still pierces my heart. Just knowing he is watching me makes my physical impulses override my thoughts, and I find myself walking more slowly on legs that are unsteady and rock my hips, my face burning when I realize what I'm doing but unable to stop. The breeze plays with my dress and a blush spreads as the heat between my legs flares when I think of the sensation of his hard on pressed against me.

  "Don't forget to close your mouth," I say, feigning the blush isn't there.

  But Stacy won't have any of it. Perceptive as always, and impossibly direct, she just blurts it out. "I knew it!"

  "Knew what?" I say, getting in. Just drive.

  "Oh, don't play coy with me, little Miss Sunshine." Little Miss Sunshine is her nickname for me, though God only knows why she sticks with it. There hasn't been any sunshine coming from me for months.

  "Are we going somewhere?" I say. We aren't. I stare straight ahead as she observes me with those big brown eyes of hers, my blush intensifying and spreading like a forest fire to cover like what feels like not just my face and neck but my whole body. And then those big brown eyes move up and in the direction of his bedroom. That's all I need to know he is still there. Watching me. That doesn't help.

  "Does he know?" Stacy asks without preamble, and sweat breaks through my skin. Listening to the drumming of my heart in my ears, I curl and uncurl my toes again and again, frantically searching for the right reply.

  "You really should quit smoking that stuff," I finally say, and it comes out so lame that I can't help but cringe and look away.

  Laughing, Stacy shakes her head, leaning into me. "I can't believe you kept that a secret from me," she says, far too loudly for my liking. But hey, at least someone is amused by my predicament. A shame it isn't me.

  "I have no idea what you’re talking abo
ut," I lie through clenched teeth, wondering if my burning face might cause me to self-ignite. It certainly would be a welcome relief.

  "Uhuh," Stacy says disbelievingly, straightening up behind the wheel and hitting the gas without restraint. Gravel spits up as we tear away and I release air I wasn't aware I was holding. I guess I should be grateful that she has the courtesy not to push it with him watching. "We have some talking to do, girlfriend."

  "I don't think so," I say stubbornly and cross my arms over my chest. I should have stayed in hiding and I know it.

  "So, are you are going to tell him, or should I?"

  "What?" Turning my head, all wide-eyed and my jaw hanging, I try to gauge if she is serious or not. With Stacy you never know for certain, not until it’s too late.

  "What what? You don't want him to know?" She seems genuinely surprised at the thought of it.

  "For starters, you’re imagining things," I say, counting off one finger that isn't half as steady as I want it to be so I fast drop my hand. "Besides, he’s my stepbrother," I add, my voice dropping an octave, the heartache that I've been trying so hard to hide pouring out over each syllable in copious amounts, and I find tears in my eyes.

  Besides being perceptive, Stacy is also a softy at heart. Tough when she needs and wants to be, but other than that a real softie. And it shows on her face. "That sucks," she says with conviction.

  "Yeah, tell me about it," I say bitterly. “Besides, it’s not as if he'd be interested in a girl like me," I murmur, not knowing why I'd say a thing like that. Maybe just so Stacy can say something to make me feel better.

  "He'd be a fool not to," Stacy says flatly.

  "Right," I snort, "I'm not like you, Stacy." I'm not and we both know it. She is all legs and ass and tits. The build of a centerfold. That, coupled with a beautiful face, and the kind of outgoing personality that has always made her popular by default, makes her a catch. She’s the life of the party. Me? Forget it.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Stacy hates it when I put myself down.

  "Look at you, and look at me," I say stubbornly. "Skinny."

  Shaking her head, Stacy rolls her eyes. "Really, are all us chicks crazy when it comes to our looks? If our ass isn't too fat than it is too skinny."

  I don't reply. It's useless.

  "For your information, little Miss Sunshine," Stacy says, talking slowly and emphasizing each word, "you’re fucking gorgeous, and the only one who doesn't seem to be aware of it is you."

  "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that," I say, secretly pleased. "So, where are we going?"

  "We're going to a party," Stacy says. Turning her head, she throws me a grin and I know I'm in trouble.

  "A party?" I say hesitantly, thinking about the party that Stephan mentioned. I break out into a cold sweat just thinking it could be the same party Stacy has in mind.

  "I'm certain you'll meet that stud of yours there," Stacy muses. "He doesn't seem to ever miss a party, does he?"

  "I'm not going," I snap, anger rising to the surface. Really, is the world out to get me or what?

  "Oh yes, you are."

  "What? You are going to force me, now?"

  "No, I'm going to cajole you instead. And, for what it’s worth, that stud of yours? From the way he looked at you from his window, I'd swear he's more than interested in you." My heart starts thundering as the words hit my eardrums. Could it be true? Was last night not just a silly drunken episode? "Thought you might want to know."

  "Bullhsit," I say. "Besides, he's my stepbrother." Watching the world shoot by, I realize that the only good thing the day brought so far is the wind in my hair.

  "Right, your stepbrother, not your real brother," Stacy says coolly. "You might want to remember that."

  "I'm not listening."

  "Fine, be that way," Stacy says, unperturbed. "Just so long as you know that you’re going. You've been walking around for far too long with an unhappy face. Time you had some fun. Maybe even get laid too, eh?"

  Despite myself, I can't help but laugh. "Good luck trying to change my mind."

  "Oh, I don't need luck, Cass," Stacy says. "Not when you are squirming in your seat just at the thought of him giving it to you hard and deep."

  My jaw drops and every drop of blood is drained from my neck and face, and Stacy grins wider than ever. Fuck! I had no idea it was that obvious.

  "If you'd made it clear you have the hots for the dude then we could have done something about it sooner."

  I'm speechless. She actually wants to me go after my own stepbrother. But, of course, that's Stacy for you. She probably thinks me clubbing him over the head and dragging him to my room is a great idea. She'd probably insist I'd gag him and tie him to the bed too, for good measure.

  Stephan

  Every muscle tenses when I see her appear out of nowhere with Stacy at her side. My arm instinctively retreats from around the girl I met only an hour ago. Up to now, I was bored, hating the crap that they decided to play. But at least I was away from her and there was beer. Beer and an easy girl to distract my mind with. That all stopped when I saw her from across a room that is too crowded, a mist of nicotine hanging in the air that has her wrinkling her cute nose.

  Still wearing the same summer dress she left the house in, her hair loose and no makeup, she looks out of place, like an alien among all those girls with too much makeup and dressed so daringly. Pure. Unblemished. When her green eyes find mine they widen and a shiver runs down my spine, my cock instantly alive and stirring with raw passion. Just in time I stop the smirk that I have gotten so used to putting on. Instead, I smile and surprise myself by feeling good about letting my guard down.

  "Hey, where are you going?" the girl says when I step away from her. Ignoring her, I know the wise thing to do would be to leave, but I know I won't. Recalling the disappointment on Dad's face, I'm determined to redeem myself. And while at it, I’ll prove that I'm in charge of my feelings, not the other way around. Walking over, forcing my way between dancing and laughing and arguing bodies, it is Stacy who keeps an eye on me, not Cassandra.

  "Hey," I say, trying not to eat her up with my eyes. "Glad you changed your mind."

  "I didn't leave her much of a choice," Stacy says. Throwing an arm around Cassandra, she pulls her close. Cassandra only gives me a quick glance before looking away again, but it is enough to feel foolish and self-aware. She is the only woman who has that effect on me, and I already regret approaching her.

  "I'm glad you're here, anyway," I say. Why is talking with her such a task? "Have fun, OK?" I say after a pause. Already turning around, telling myself that at least I fucking tried to be friends, I want to kick the growing sense of disappointment in the face. What else did I expect? That she would suddenly be pleased with me after months of me giving her a hard time?

  "Hey, stud, where do you think you’re going?" Stacy says, loud enough for eyes to focus in on us. Catching up with me, dragging Cassandra along by the arm, she hooks her other hand through mine. "We're not cool enough to hang out with?" she says, cocking her head and giving me a look that is all dare. "Or maybe we're just toougly?" Her chin up, she tells me Cassandra told her that I called her ugly.

  "What? No, I didn't!" Cassandra protests, her cheeks coloring fast.

  "Oh yes you did, girlfriend," Stacy counters, clearly enjoying her little theater. "So let’s hear it from the horse's mouth." I can almost hear Cassandra wishing she’d never come. "Well? How about it, stud? How ugly do you think that stepsister of yours is?"

  How can you not admire being put on the spot like that? A small crowd has gathered and all eyes are on me. But I don't care about any of them. They can go to hell. But I care about her.

  "Yeah, Stephan, let’s hear it," Rob says, slapping me on the shoulder. That makes at least two who are enjoying this.

  "Hear what?" I say, tougher than I feel. "That she’s beautiful? She is," I say, my voice going from hoarse from too much vodka and smoking to warm, and I can tell Stacy is fast to pi
ck on what it means. Fuck. "I gotta take a piss," I say brusquely and walk away, and pushing bodies out of the way. I need booze and a lot of it. Right now. Even better, I should leave, but at this point that would be another dead giveaway. Just have to play it cool.

  Cassandra

  I'm beaming and confused as I watch him make his way through the crowd, moving with the grace of a big cat, raw energy beating off of him in spades. Did he just say I am beautiful and sound like he more than meant it?

  "See? Told you," Stacy says coolly.

  "He's just being kind," I mutter.

  Rolling her eyes, Stacy tells me that I'm hopeless. "Still love you, though."

  "Thanks for reminding me," I say, still beaming but starting to wonder if maybe I imagined things. "Can we go now?"

  "Go?"

  "Yes, go. You know, go somewhere where I won't get cancer from second-hand smoke."

  "Shit. You're going to get loaded, Cass."

  "You wish."

  "I do! It's the only way to loosen you up."

  "And act like you?"

  "You mean like a slut? Why? Afraid you'll go all slutty over that stud of yours?" Stacy says, her bright brown eyes boring into mine. My body heat goes through the roof at the thought of it.

  "Eh, so where’s the booze?" I say without thinking and cringe when I realize what I just said.

  Several hours later, we're still there, lounging in the backyard in a hammock with bright stars above us. As far as Stacy is concerned, we won't leave until she has resolved what she now calls "my issue." The little secret that I finally openly spilled after several shots of some vile substance. That was numerous shots ago. Clearly, unlike me, she doesn't see Stephan being my stepbrother as any sort of problem. Quite the opposite. She thinks it’s hot.