Stepbrother Obsessed

by Devon Hartford

  Ever since the night the four of us watched There’s Something About Mary together (we ended up watching the remainder of the movie that night), Dad has made a huge effort to be home in time to eat with us every night, and spend more time afterward just hanging out with all of us. There’s been a continuing closeness we’ve never had as a family. I hope this closeness lasts forever. Somehow, I know it won’t. But I can wish for something, even if I don’t have a magical lamp and a genie to grant me three wishes.

  Sadly, the first sign that things are starting to crack comes one night at dinner.

  Dad passes me the platter of meatloaf, which Dante suggested when Catarina asked what to cook earlier in the afternoon. I fork a slice onto my plate.

  Dad asks me, “What happened to Luke? I haven’t seen him around in a while. Wasn’t he helping you study math for the SATs?”

  “I guess he’s been busy or whatever.”

  “That’s too bad,” Dad frowns. “I really like Luke. He’s a good kid.”

  I hide my scowl. Luke isn’t exactly number one on my list after what he told Ashley.

  “Why did you two break up again?” Dad asks, spooning sliced green beens onto his plate.

  I smirk, “Because he was too busy all the time.” It’s the truth. I glance briefly at Dante. He doesn’t appear bothered by Dad’s line of questions.

  Dad nods, “I suppose that makes sense. Well, the important thing is that you’re preparing for the SAT. How is that going?”

  “Great,” I lie.

  The truth is, I’m a little worried about the upcoming Stress.A.T. I’ve been trying to study, but I swear, all the drama surrounding that photo is a constant distraction. You tell yourself that you’re going to rise above the negativity and focus on higher things or whatever. But it’s turning out to be much harder than I thought.

  Every night I try to study, it seems like I spend more time worrying what people are saying about me online than I do working my practice math problems. I stopped checking ChatBrat right after the fact. But that doesn’t stop hate messages from showing up on my Facebook feed. I check Facebook because I’m stalking Rox to see if she’s forgiven me or forgotten me. I can’t really tell. She seems to be avoiding Facebook right now. There’s also the constant stream of notifications I get from Ask.fm. I forgot I even had the account. But half the people at North Valley have blown it up with incessant hate questions. Every single one comes from an anonymous person.

  How long have you been a skeevy slut?

  Why are you such a skank?

  Do you sleep with anybody who asks? Or only family members?

  I saw u hook up with Dominick R. at Ashley’s partay. Duz ur brother no?

  This person means Dominick Rodriguez. He’s a senior who plays varsity football at North Valley. I would never go to any party Ashley threw, and I’ve never hooked up with Dominick. I don’t think I’ve talked to him for more than a minute since I started at North Valley.

  Are you pregnant? You look it.

  Do you think you and your brother’s baby will be retarded?

  That’s stupid, because Dante and I aren’t related or pregnant.

  Your sick for liking your brother

  Satan is smiling right now. When are you going to join him in hell?

  Wanna hook up?

  Why don’t you die already?

  Pap of yor titz

  I think not. Pap means “Post a pic”.

  How many guys have u slept with?

  Show us you’re sex tape

  Ur no princess. Ur a slut.

  Is it true u r a homewrecker? Or does it not count cuz it was your own home ur wreckin?

  The questions go on and on like this. There’s over 400.

  When I started high school at North Valley, I had felt confident that I could play it smart and avoid cyber bullying all the way through graduation. And I made it all the way to senior year without having to endure more than a minimal amount. I guess I jinxed myself by being cocky. In just two weeks, I’ve received three years worth of hate from my peers. No wonder they killed that kid Piggy in Lord Of The Flies.

  Teenagers are evil.

  For a moment, righteous rage flares up inside me. Armed with all my SAT vocab words and critical writing skills, I would love to lay into these jerks and give them a piece of my mind. I could answer every one of their stupid questions with a smart and clever response. If I was still 14, I would probably do exactly that right now. But I’m not 14. I’m 18 and I know better.

  So I delete my Ask account with a huge smile on my face.

  Screw you, cyber bullies.

  “You look happy,” Dad says, standing in my doorframe. “Did you conquer your latest SAT practice test?”

  I grin, “Something like that.”

  “Well, don’t stay up too late. You want to be well rested going into the real thing. When is it?”

  “A week from Saturday.” In other words, well over a week from now.

  “Then it’s good to get on your sleep schedule now,” he offers with infinitely parental wisdom.

  “Yeah, okay.” I smile at him.

  He leans over and kisses me goodnight on the cheek. “Goodnight, princess. You’re going to do great on that test.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Yawning, I close my laptop and stretch my arms over my head. Then I head to the hall bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up before bed. Right before I pass the guest bedroom door, it opens.

  Dante.

  Every night, he says goodnight to me too.

  It’s our ritual. It’s dangerous to do it in the hallway where the master bedroom door is in clear view, but it feels important to us. He doesn’t even step out of his room. He just stands in the doorframe. It’s like we’re in some Victorian era romance novel where it’s considered adultery to show your ankle to a man before marriage. We just stare at each other and heave our breasts with repressed longing. Somehow, it’s the most romantic thing ever. Dante’s eyes twinkle. I bite my lower lip. He leans forward, as if to take a step, which is tantamount to ravaging me. But he restrains himself. I resist the urge to faint. Since I’m not wearing a corset and a hoop dress, and there’s no fainting couch nearby, I never actually do it. That would certainly bring Dad running with the dueling pistols in a polished wood box. He would slap Dante across the face with a leather glove before the two of them charged down to the front lawn where they would take ten paces apiece, turn and fire. That never works out well for anybody. Luckily, none of that happens. Not yet, anyway. You never know with my dad.

  When I finally emerge from the bathroom, face scrubbed and teeth clean, Dante is still standing in his doorframe, stalwart as ever. Well, he’s leaning casually against the doorframe looking more like a lazy surfer than an aristocrat, which is fine by me.

  “Buenas noches, mi Cielo,” he mutters. Good night, my Heaven.

  “Buenas noches, mi Tierra,” I sigh. Good night, my Earth.

  Then I do go to my room and swoon.

  I hug myself to sleep, knowing Dante is in the next room, likely also hugging himself to sleep.

  Since he’s a guy, he’s probably, you know, hugging himself the way guys usually do in private.

  Two can play at that game.

  Lying on my bed, enveloped by the warm pink glow of my nightlight, I slide my fingers against my waiting wet heat and imagine Dante’s magic mouth lulling me to sleep.

  It works like a charm.

  oOoOoOo + O+O+O+O

  On Saturday afternoon, I wash Catarina’s car for her. It’s warm out and I need a study break. So I suds up a bucket of water with dish soap and unroll the garden hose in the driveway. Dad won’t let me wash his BMW because he doesn’t want me messing up the paint. He pays a fortune to have it professionally detailed. Catarina isn’t so anal about these things and was grateful I offered.

  While I’m sponging the roof of her Lexus, an older Honda Civic pulls up in the driveway next door. Out steps Kamiko Nishimura. Her family lives next to us
. She was two years ahead of me at North Valley. When she graduated high school, she went to SDU for pre-med. Her family wants her to become a doctor. The passenger door of her car opens and Romeo Fabiano floats out. Romeo is Kamiko’s GBF. Gay Best Friend. They were inseparable in high school and graduated together. Romeo goes to SDU too. He’s an art and theater double major. I’ve seen Romeo at Kamiko’s house plenty of times, and got to know both of them pretty well.

  “Hey, Romeo! What’s up?” I ask tentatively. If there’s one person I know who won’t judge me for falling in love with my stepbrother, it’s Romeo Fabiano. Not that I’m going to come out and tell him. But considering everyone else is shunning me, I could really use a friend or two right now.

  “Skye! So good to see you, darling!” He walks onto the driveway. “If you’re thinking about hosting a wet T-shirt contest, I’m not your audience.”

  “Oh, no,” I laugh, looking down at my shirt, which is damp on the chest. I’m wearing my bikini top underneath, so it’s no big whoop. And Romeo’s gay.

  Romeo has a fancy embroidered black steampunk coat that reaches nearly to his knees. The coat has a high collar that circles above his jawline. It looks very aristocratic. He also wears black skinny jeans and pointy black leather shoes. An old-school monocle dangles from one button on his coat. The outfit is similar to what I saw him wearing in high school, but this is fancier. Everyone at North Valley knew who Romeo was because you couldn’t miss him walking around campus looking like a gothic vampire five days a week. He also wore the monocle back then, and the same short black faux-hawk hairstyle. But this coat looks brand new. “I love your new coat,” I say. “Did you make it?”

  He fans his fingers against his chest, “Me? Make something?” He shakes his head vigorously. “Oh no, Skye, you must have me confused with someone else. I would never do anything as gauche as lift a finger when I can have a servant do it for me.”

  “Don’t lie, Romeo,” I chuckle. “I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream when North Valley did it your senior year. The costumes you made for all the kids looked incredible. If it wasn’t for your sewing skills, people would’ve worn two dollar plastic costumes from the Spirit Halloween store on stage. Your outfits brought that show to life.”

  Romeo smiles bashfully, “Thank you for noticing.”

  Kamiko also looks nice. She wears a loose fitting scoop neck sweater over a knee length dress with cute combat boots and print socks.

  “Are those Adventure Time socks?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she smiles. Kamiko is an Adventure Time über super fan. I’ve watched the cartoon at her house a few times when I was younger because it’s all she ever watches.

  “I told her to throw them out and buy socks made for adults,” Romeo sneers, “but she simply refuses to grow up. I think she has Peter Pan syndrome.”

  Kamiko smacks Romeo on the arm. “I’ll show you Peter Pan syndrome. I’m going to keep hitting you until I stunt your growth.”

  Both of them are short, although Romeo is a bit taller than me, but he’s short for a guy.

  “That’s fine with me,” Romeo grins. “I like to look up at my men. It makes me feel more feminine.” He runs his fingers through imaginary long hair.

  “You are such a bitch, Romeo,” Kamiko growls.

  “I know, right?” he laughs.

  We’re all distracted by the sound of a motorcycle. We turn to watch Dante ride up on his dusty bike and stop beside the sidewalk. He pulls off his helmet and tosses his lanky blond surfer hair.

  “Who is this vision of perfection?” Romeo gasps while frantically jamming his monocle into his eye socket.

  Dante’s brows furrow in amusement as he climbs off his motorcycle.

  “Romeo Fabiano, at your service,” Romeo says, twirling one hand in the air while backing up a step and bending into a courtly bow. Then he pops up his head and winks at Dante, “And your dream come true.” The wink causes the monocle to pop off Romeo’s cheek. His hand flutters for it, trying to catch it as it swings. He finally manages to slap it against his chest.

  Kamiko groans audibly.

  Romeo titters nervously, “Don’t mind the monocle. It has a mind of it’s own. Unlike Kamiko.” He glares at her.

  She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm.

  Dante is shocked into confusion and glances between me and Romeo, “Uhhh…”

  “He’s cool,” I reassure.

  Romeo straightens and leans toward Dante, gesturing with his hand to shake. He waits patiently. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me too…”

  Kamiko huffs, “Romeo couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried.”

  “You wound me, Kamiko,” Romeo says, distraught. “I’m very manly.”

  “Wearing a monocle doesn’t make you manly,” she snickers.

  “I’m a man of high society, dear. Muscles don’t make the man. Did you fail to notice my sartorial splendor?”

  “Your what?”

  He tugs on one cuff of his coat, then the other, with deft precision. “My elegant finery?”

  “Huh?”

  “My clothes?” he sniffs petulantly.

  Kamiko shakes her head. “Oh. Why didn’t you just say clothes? Then maaaybe we could all understand you?”

  I suppress a giggle.

  Dante smirks.

  “Heathens,” Romeo dismisses. He closes his eyes, lifts his eyebrows, and says in a snooty voice, “Why say diamond when you can say pebble? Why say ruby when you can say rock? Why say dandelion when you can say garden weed?” He glances at Kamiko. “Need I continue?”

  “Shut up,” she barks.

  “So modest,” Romeo chortles.

  “I think I have to agree with Romeo on this one,” I say. “Dandelion is much prettier than weed.”

  He smiles indulgently, “Thank you, my dear Cerulean Skye.”

  “Cerulean?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “Yes. It’s an expensive shade of blue paint, one that is befitting of your priceless beauty.”

  Dante puts a protective arm around me. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend, amigo?”

  Romeo tosses a dismissive hand in the air. “I’m hitting on you, Mi Hombre Hermoso.” My handsome man.

  Dante bursts into laughter. “Where did you learn Spanish?”

  “I took it at North Valley, just like esta bella flor,” this beautiful flower. Romeo nods at me.

  “Romeo,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Anyway, how is SDU treating you?”

  He bites his lower lip indulgently, like he’s tasting something yummy. “Fabulous, dear. Simply fabulous. You really should go. Is SDU still your first choice?”

  I sigh, my shoulders slumping, “If I can get in.”

  “If? What do you mean if? If I recall, you were the inspiration of bookworms everywhere.”

  “Yeah, right,” I laugh.

  He grins, “Well, not by your choice. But I remember your dad being quite the taskmaster, right?”

  “For sure,” I groan.

  Romeo looks off, musing. “You know, Gordon really is quite handsome. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to have him tie me up and force me to recite Shakespeare’s sonnets with a whip at the ready in case I badger the pronunciation. Just the two of us, locked up in a gloomy room, with nothing but our shirtless bodies glistening—”

  “Romeo!” I bark. “Eww!! So gross!”

  “What?” he asks, offended. “Your dad is a handsome man. And so terribly controlling.” Romeo shivers with obvious delight. “There’s nothing gross about him!”

  I grimace, “You are so wrong, Romeo!”

  He pretends to toss his imaginary hair. “He’s not my father. To me, Gordon Albright is the picture of Armani suited manhood. He can do anything he wants to me in my fantasies!” He practically giggles with glee.

  “Oh, gross!”

  “It’s weird,” Kamiko says. “I’m both repulsed by everything Romeo says, but at the same time, I have to agree. Your dad is hot, in a Fifty Shades of Graying A
t The Temples sort of way.”

  “You guys are seriously grossing me out.” I stick out my tongue and gag.

  “Are you all talking about the same Gordon Albright I know?” Dante asks.

  “Are you hot for him too?” Romeo gasps intently.

  Dante chuckles, “No. Just his daughter.”

  “She is a looker,” Romeo smiles. “But I prefer the masculine version,” he winks. “And what is your name anyway, you jewel of a man?” Romeo’s eyes crawl up and down Dante’s entire frame with naked desire.

  “Dante. Dante Lord.”

  Romeo purrs, “You can be the Lord of my manor any time, you heartthrob.”

  “Hands off!” I bark but also giggle.

  “Wasn’t that your stepmom’s married name?” Kamiko asks.

  Dante and I exchange a guilty look.

  “I saw that,” Romeo says conspiratorially. “What are you two hiding?”

  I cringe.

  Dante shrugs.

  Romeo’s eyes widen and he gasps. “Stop the gossip presses! Are you two stepbrother and sister?”

  I wasn’t planning on bringing it up. But if there’s one person in the world who might not judge, it’s definitely Romeo. And I might just be getting a bit sick of hiding it like it’s shameful, because it’s not. I wrinkle my brows and nod uncertainly, not quite sure how Romeo will react.

  “You harlot!” Romeo pouts. “Some girls have all the luck! Why couldn’t I be the one with the sexy stepbrother?” His eyes suddenly gleam. “I can imagine all the dirty things he and I would do behind closed doors.” He bites his lower lip. “Mmmm. So taboo. And here I thought there was nothing more delicious than being gay. But I never once imagined what it would be like to have a hot and sexy gay stepbrother!” He shivers and stares at Dante with open desire. “I think I’m going to swoon right here.”

  “If you do,” Kamiko says, “make sure you change your underwear.”

  Dante chuckles.

  “Ew,” I giggle.