“So she’s dated some,” I say. “But I guess, I guess she didn’t want to trust anyone. But I told her she should start dating again. I mean, I know she was happy with my father—when things were going well between them, at least. And after seeing how happy Caleb, my best friend—”
“I’ve heard of him,” Alec says, smiling.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “I guess most people have. Anyway . . . I guess your dad was there when she was ready, and that was that.”
“How did they meet?”
“In the supermarket, of all places.” I laugh. “He asked her for help in choosing vegetables, and I guess that was all it took. Didn’t he tell you?”
Alec’s face tightens, and he swears under his breath. I furrow my brows. I thought the story seemed a bit romantic. I’ll never forget Mom’s smiling face after their meeting.
I guess he’s less romantic.
Alec rolls onto his stomach, and his eyes darken. “Alec, our parents shouldn’t marry.”
Chapter Six
Ezra
My mouth parts in surprise, but I soon grit my teeth and stare back at him. “Yeah?”
“It won’t work.” Alec rises, and even now, even when he is telling me that he practically wants to break up our parents’ upcoming marriage, I still notice the length of his legs, the way his white swim trunks contrast with his golden tan, and the slight swelling that makes me think of furry balls and a delicious cock.
I shut my eyes. Was I just checking out my future stepbrother’s junk? I clench my fists. “What is this really about?”
Alec’s eyebrows shoot up, but then he sends me a lazy smile that seems to make its way all the way to my stomach. “I think I made my thoughts clear.”
“You don’t think my mom is good enough for your dad?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Just because she didn’t go to Harvard like he did . . .”
“Whoa, I did not just insult your mom. Don’t accuse me of that. Okay?”
I nod. My throat is dry. I don’t know why Brad made it seem like Alec was so desperate to hang out with me. Alec’s only been cold and aloof so far. Hot, but . . .yeah, he’s been aloof.
I gesture at our surroundings. “You don’t like this, do you?” I ask.
“The beach?” Alec swivels his head “It’s pretty here.”
“You miss Kentucky?” I know I’m sounding accusatory, but I hate that my mother has found true love while I’m stuck entertaining her son, who seems to want me to help him split up our parents. Or at least agree that they’re horrible for each other.
I’m not going to take away the one thing that’s made my mother happy lately. No way. Not going to happen. My mother worked hard to put me through vocal lessons and dance lessons, and once I started to make money, I made sure I repaid her back all that I could. And much more. Because she deserves the best.
I’m not going to sit here and agree with her fiancé’s son that our parents shouldn’t marry, no matter how gorgeous his face is.
“You’re crazy.” I rub my hand through my hair. I don’t sound like myself at all. My California cool has disappeared these last two days, and I’m frazzled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s cool,” Alec says.
Great. He has my cool.
“I’m tired,” I lie.
Alec shrugs.
“So you’re not going to tell me why our parents can’t be together?”
A vein at Alec’s temple throbs. “Um . . . they’re not suited to each other.”
“Whatever.” I roll back on the towel. My whole body is tense, and I want to go home, but the thought of being forced to sit next to Alec in a car is too much for me. I feel Alec’s eyes on me, and I stare back at him. Fluffy clouds drift over us, oblivious to the tension between us.
“So . . .” Alec inhales, and his jaw steadies as if he’s about to march off to war. “Ever thought about doing it with a guy?”
“Excuse me?” I sputter. “Um . . .”
My heart plummets, and I wonder how he knows. No matter. I am not, not, not coming out to him. He’s not going to be the first person to know about how I really feel.
He’s the first guy I’ve disliked in, well, a long time. He’s probably going to end up like our former manager Julian Boback when he grows up. Smug and self-satisfied. I rub my chest because the thought feels false to me somehow. Alec seems sort of nice. When he’s not being a jerk.
But he doesn’t think our parents should marry, and now he’s deliberately making me uncomfortable.
“I’m not going to talk about this with you.” I narrow my eyes. “No way.”
“Oh.” Alec lifts his perfect eyebrows up, and I withdraw my gaze from his perfect eyes with difficulty. “So you’re not going to deny it?”
I stiffen. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter how much the sun is shining above and how warm the temperature is. I shiver and force my hands to my sides. I don’t want him to know how uneasy he’s making me. I don’t want him to have any idea of how right he is.
I know—I hope—he’s just kidding around, but I don’t know what to say. I try to laugh it off. “You’re saying you fool around with guys?”
“I don’t fool around with women.” Alec’s voice is steady.
I blink and rub my hand through my hair. I’m sure I must have misheard him. I’m sure he didn’t say . . . he couldn’t have said . . .
I rise. I don’t care if it’s going to be awkward in the car. “Let’s head back.”
I can’t wait to get home. I’ve never experienced this level of discomfort, and in my job, I’ve experienced lots of uncomfortable things. I should be an expert in it.
Dancing and singing before a live audience of thousands. Scrutinized publicly about everything, lately about my close friendship with Caleb now that the media know he’s gay. Doing gigs in high school to help my mom support me. All of these things I’ve done, but it takes Alec to really unsettle me, and I hate him for it.
I stride toward the car and hope he will follow me. Not that I want to see him again.
“Dude.” Alec appears at my side. He’s not out of breath, even though he has jogged after me and his hands are filled with both our towels. Oops.
I lift my chin and wait for Alec to open the door. My fists are drawn together, and adrenaline rushes through my body.
“What the hell is wrong?” Alec’s eyes narrow, and a scowl mars his face.
“I—” I have no answer for him. My head throbs, and I want to be home.
“Are you that uncomfortable with me?” Alec tilts his head, and I shudder under his scrutiny.
I swallow hard and then inhale. Okay. Maybe I’m overreacting. “So you’re really . . . gay?”
Alec shrugs. “I like fucking men.”
Oh my god. I bite my lip. “That’s, um . . .” My mind races, leaping, picturing the image of Alec fucking some guy, maybe fucking me. But I remind myself he can’t, absolutely cannot know my feelings. Finally I settle lamely on two words. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows, and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks again.
“‘Course,” I say, turning away from him. “Dude, I don’t care. You, um, just took me by surprise.”
“I see.” Alec nods, but his eyes don’t stop their scrutiny of me.
“I just don’t know you yet.” I try to smile at him. “But I will, and then things will be great. You’ll see.”
His smile falters. “What if I don’t want us to be stepbrothers?”
I swallow. The thought of living with him doesn’t exactly fill me with joy either. Even if it turns out he’s not a horrible being, and I’ll reserve judgement on that. “Why not?”
“Maybe I think you’re hot,” he says, his Southern accent strong. He opens the car door, and slides into the driver’s seat.
I blink and follow after him. Is this why he doesn’t want our parents to marry? Because he’s attracted to me? I shake my head. The thought is ridiculous. It’s too close to what I want.
I snatch my clothes from him and scramble into them as best I can, cursing the shaking of my hands.
He grins at me, and I’m aware of his long legs, his broad chest and shoulders, and his succulent lips that make me think about kissing, even though I really, really shouldn’t. My heartbeat races, and I force myself to avert my eyes.
“Uncomfortable yet?” he asks.
I’m still, and my heartbeat quickens even more as his long fingers extend toward me. He touches my shoulder, and my nerve endings ripple with pleasure at the contact. I turn my head to him.
“No one’s looking, Ezra,” he drawls.
“What are you doing?” My voice wobbles because it’s completely clear what he’s doing.
“Shh . . .” Alec whispers. “I’m seducing you.”
“I don’t need seducing.” I swing my head away.
“Maybe you want it,” his voice says in my ear, his warm breath tantalizingly near. His hand moves from my shoulder, down my chest, toward my rapidly growing cock. The sensation is incredible. Awesome. His scent fills the car, and part of me wants to give in to him so badly.
But it’s impossible. There’s no way I’m going to sit in a car with him, even in an abandoned parking lot, while he touches me like this.
No way.
I exhale and push his hand away, even though it’s physically painful to not have us touching anymore.
“You don’t like it?” Alec smirks at me. “Maybe you should tell your mom to call off the wedding.”
My fists tighten, and my knuckles turn white. “I am not homophobic. My best friend is gay. Don’t you read the tabloids?”
Alec stiffens, and worry seems to flicker across his face. Why the hell is he worried that I’m not homophobic? He swallows hard, and even the way his Adam’s apple moves is ridiculously attractive. “You mean Caleb?”
“Yeah.” I focus on the road and the scattering of empty cars. It’s tempting to look at Alec, but I don’t know what I will find if I do.
“You don’t find my behavior inappropriate?” At that, I do look. Alec raises his eyebrows, and my mouth dries. “Maybe you should tell your mother that the marriage would be a bad idea.”
“Hmph.” I sniff. “I can put up with you, Alec. Don’t doubt that.”
“You sure?” Alec slides a hand over my thigh.
His hand brushes against my jeans, and my knees quiver when he runs his long hand up and down my thigh. Even though coarse material separates his hand from my skin, every nerve in my body concentrates on the blissful sensation of his slow stroke. It feels like my body is on fire. I know I’m supposed to say I hate this, that it makes me uncomfortable (even though I’m not a homophobe), but instead I lean back into the seat. My eyelids flicker down, and I concentrate on the wonder that I am alone with a guy, one who seems every bit the man of my dreams, and that he is touching me in just the way I imagine in my dreams.
“You don’t hate this.” Alec’s voice sounds stunned, and his hand stops that exquisite motion.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I process the absence of his hand on me. Alec knows my secret. No one knows my secret, and now the man who will be my stepbrother, the man who will move in with me, the man who can laugh at me every time I tell the media I’m not seeing anyone special right now, but yes, so-and-so famous actress is completely hot, will know the truth.
I’m shaking, and I hate that. I steel my features and clench my fists and try to act like the man I’ve needed to be ever since Dad walked out on my family.
“I’ll try anything once.” I think I succeed in making my voice sound tough because Alec tilts his head at me, as if I’m still confusing, as if maybe he doesn’t know my deepest secret after all. “It was just your hand, dude. No reason to get worked up.”
“Oh.” Alec blinks. “I see.”
“Cool.” I nod.
But he doesn’t see, or he would know that my whole body is craving his touch again, and I’m grateful when he turns on the car. Maybe the engine can mask the thud of my heart. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
Alec
“Had a good time?” Dad beams at me when I enter through the door.
“’Course.” If a good time means becoming seriously, seriously confused.
“Good.” Dad clears his throat. “I’m glad you came back early. You need to get packing.”
“Packing? I just got here.”
“Angela thinks it makes sense for us to move into their place now. No need to wait for the actual wedding.”
“We can’t move in there.”
“We’re getting married, Alec.” Dad chuckles. “Of course we want to live together.”
I try another tactic. “But it’s Ezra’s place, really. Don’t you think he would mind?”
I know he would mind.
“Well maybe it’s time for him to get a bachelor pad somewhere. I would if I were him.” Dad bustles around, unconcerned about changing Ezra’s life.
I’m reminded of those stepparents in sentimental family movies who want to send their children off to boarding school.
“He does lots of touring, Dad. He probably likes having some stability when he comes home.” Already I like this about him, even if it’s inconvenient to like anything about Ezra.
Dad shrugs. “Well, if he’s doing lots of touring, he won’t mind us. Come on, son. Get packing.”
I’m moving in with one of the most famous men in the world. Whom I’m pretty sure I managed to make hate me. Fine. No big deal.
I feel intensely uncomfortable at the prospect of living so closely with a guy whose face and body so fully meet my idea of perfection.
I regret ever moving to Los Angeles. I wish Dad had never canceled that apartment lease and I had somewhere to go where I didn’t have a front-row seat in a train wreck waiting to happen. I should have known that even if Dad is my only relative in the world, I still need to stay far away from him because no good ever comes of hanging out with him.
I grit my teeth together and push my clothes back into my backpack. The colored clothes with plain labels are slightly faded. My black shirts aren’t black anymore, too many washes with cheap laundry detergent.
I’ll search for another apartment. And see if I can make Ezra uncomfortable enough that the marriage never happens, Angela is never heartbroken, and Ezra is never upset that the new father in his life is not someone to admire.
Before I find something new, most everything in Dad’s place is to be discarded. Their guest bedrooms (well, the guest bedroom I will be assigned to, rather) apparently contain much nicer furniture, like four-figure memory foam mattresses and Egyptian cotton sheets.
Even though I never wanted a four-figure memory foam mattress, and my scratchy, dark blue sheets took me through high school just fine.
I don’t have many things with me when I go to Angela and Ezra’s house.
I help Dad put our things into big brown boxes picked up from the grocery store that smell faintly of oranges.
Dad pokes his head into the room. “Excited, Alec?”
His voice is gleeful and even a bit breathless. Definitely uncharacteristic behavior. I narrow my eyes, but he beams back at me.
“Try and get rid of as many things as you can,” Dad says.
“Because everything is better at Ezra’s place.” I throw some of my old CDs into a box marked for the charity shop. I remember saving for those CDs. But there’s no place for them now.
Dad clears his throat. “You know your room is pretty big there, bigger than here, if you want to bring things for sentimental purposes . . .”
I smile tightly. “I’m not sentimental, Dad.”
Dad appraises me. “Maybe you should be.”
“Look, I should keep on sorting through these things,” I interrupt. “I don’t know why you dragged all these old things to this place. And . . . and I don’t want to delay.”
“Right.” Dad shifts his legs and then gives me a curt nod before exiting the room.
/> I pick up a basketball and throw it against the door, smiling only when a satisfying thud sounds and the door clicks shut.
I turn my attention to the stack of CDs. I pick up a Fifth Element CD. Ezra’s face smiles from the center of the black-and-white cover, and I stroke the hair of the miniature him, conscious I’m being ridiculous and absurdly glad Dad can’t see me now.
There was a time when I liked listening to the band. And even though I would never admit it to Ezra, I did once find him cute. He’s still absurdly cute. I shrug my shoulders. I will no longer be able to shut my door to my room and daydream about Ezra when I hear his velvety voice meld with the others as he sings about school and love and friendship.
I’m more aware he’s selling a product, and I don’t want him to smirk when he hears the CD, thinking I’m a sucker for listening to him. He seemed nervous at the beach, but when he returned to the car, after I stopped groping him like a madman, he was all cool and collected. I don’t want him to think his voice is the background to my thoughts and dreams, that he’s in my ear when I run in the mornings, when I work out at the gym, and when I go to my internship.
I groan as I realize I’m not just going to see him this summer. He’ll be at every family celebration. Smiling perfection to remind me my life isn’t quite as soaring as his. Because no matter who I end up with, it definitely won’t be him. I’ll never be a famous rock star. And though that’s never been anything I’ve aspired to in the least, I hate that I’m going to be the son who isn’t a multimillionaire, who isn’t famous, who isn’t adored by hundreds of thousands of people.
I slam the CDs into the charity box and cover it with a pile of old clothes. My fingers clench as I identify the emotion that is soaring through me: jealousy.
No, nothing good is going to happen when I move in with him. Nothing good at all.
Chapter Eight
Ezra
Footsteps sound below, and I stagger from beneath the heavy blanket I have pulled over myself. I glance at the door, and for a moment I worry somebody has discovered everything, that Alec has told, and I’m all over the news. I think about what happened when Caleb was outed, about how paparazzi descended on his home, forcing him to return to England and almost quit the band. I’m careful with my searches, and I asked our security team for the best way for me to visit Internet sites. I’m a guy in my early twenties, and I know they know I wasn’t talking about videos of kitties on YouTube.
My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2) Page 5