She was hot as hell, and I know she didn’t even realize it. The way she looked at me out of those hungry eyes, her shaking lips as she moaned in bliss, how she punched her hips at me to meet my every thrust.
It was a really good lay for Cassie’s first time. I think about telling her that, but that would probably just send her into a mood as well.
“Oh, so you’re up, are you?”
I turn around and see her standing in the doorway. I wait for it, while her eyes roam down my half-naked body. She sees my erection, and she makes a face.
“Really? Still?”
“It’s not what you think,” I say, mouth full of toothpaste.
“What, you have a sex dream or something?”
“Don’t you know anything about men?” I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste and grin at her.
She just scowls at me and then walks off, laptop under her arm.
I finish up in the bathroom, and then put on my t-shirt and amble downstairs.
“Got anything to eat?” I ask when I see her sitting at the kitchen counter, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. She’s pecking away on her keyboard.
Her phone rattles against the marble counter, and she picks it up. I take an apple from a fruit basket and start rinsing it off under the faucet when she turns to me, and she’s gone pale as a ghost.
“What is it?”
She puts her phone down on the table, and she just points at it. I notice that her hand is shaking.
So I read the message, and, well, what can I say? It’s pretty fucking funny.
*
Once… just that one time… and never again!
I glare at Chance, and right now, right at this very moment, I hate everything about him. That stupid way his lips curl upward with amusement, those piercing hazel eyes that just seem to stare right into my soul, right into me, and that annoying expression he always has on his face, as though he thinks I’m cute, or something.
I’m not cute. I’m bloody pissed off.
“Never again,” I say to him. I’m shaking. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel… I feel wrong.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks. His voice is deep, and I watch his full lips as he forms the shape of the words. In an instant I’m transported back in time, and his lips are hovering inches away from mine, and his hot breath is washing over my face, and I am moaning into his…
“Never again!”
I push past him, and practically run out of the kitchen. I can’t believe it.
I fucked my stepbrother!
I look at my phone and stare at the text message:
Darling Cassie,
I met a woman, and I fell very much in love with her. We ended up getting married yesterday. We’re on our way back now and should see you at around 3pm. Her name is Deborah Hudson. I believe her son attends the same school you do. Isn't that quite the coincidence?
Sorry I missed the ceremony.
Love,
Dad
The fact that he was technically not my stepbrother when I fucked him doesn’t make a lick of difference to me.
Oh God, no, that’s wrong! Our parents got married earlier than last night! He was technically my stepbrother! My head is spinning, the world is falling away from my feet. I run up to my bedroom.
Why is this happening?
I don’t know why I even did it. Oh God, I’m a wreck. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
How did this happen? How did I get here?
I lean against the back of my bedroom door, and sink to the floor. I’ve got my head in my hands, and I’m hyperventilating. This is insane. What if my father found out? What if his mother found out?
Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening to me!
How did I let this happen?
I glare at the phone. Not only do I have Chance to contend with, I also have my father, who in some ways is an even bigger asshole. I mean, this is how he tells me?
I hear footsteps reach the landing, and I know that it is Chance outside. He knocks on my door.
“Go away!” I shout.
“Why? We’re brother and sister now,” he says, mocking. “We should learn to get along.”
“Don’t you care?” I yell. “Don’t you care about what we did?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t, actually.”
“Well isn’t that just fucking typical of you.”
“There’s no need to get emotional, Cass.”
I can just imagine him as he says that. Mouth curled, grinning, amused. He thinks he’s so bloody clever.
I am now certain that my life is spiraling out of control. This is going to ruin everything. I’m supposed to be going with Dad to England tomorrow. I’m supposed to be touring around London, exploring the London School of Economics campus, and preparing myself for three years abroad.
And now everything is going to change. He had to go and get married.
And he had to go and do it with the mother of the guy I lost my virginity to!
Finally, the tears start to come. After all, everything is going to fall apart, isn’t it? They are going to find out, probably because Chance won’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it, and everything will be ruined.
But crying doesn’t make me feel any better about it. It just makes me feel worse.
*
chapter eight
I don’t know how to parse it. I can’t understand how this came to happen. What are the chances? What kind of cruel cosmic joke is the universe playing on me?
The main thought going through my mind is that now I’m going to have to spend heaps of time with Chance.
The next thought straight after that is how I’m going to control the urge to fuck him again.
Because I would be seriously lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to do it again. I mean, he was great. It was great. I never felt so good in my life. It just felt so right. So wrong, but so right.
My mind flashes back to the sight of him on top of me, hips thrusting, burying himself in me. I’m stretched around him, and it feels so, so good! Unconsciously I stick my tongue out, and he leans down as he thrusts and he takes my tongue in his mouth, and I kiss him hard, and I—
No! I ball up my fists, frustrated. I can’t be thinking about that! That is what I know will be hard to control. Now I can’t have the one thing I want more of. At first I didn’t want him, then I realized I do want him, then I get him, oh God, I get him! And now he’s off-limits. Now, I can’t have him.
And I know how he’s going to be about it, too. He’s going to be a complete dick about it, a smug prick. He’s going to make references to it in front of my father, and he’s going to constantly bring it up, and—
I swallow, biting off the rest of my tumbling thoughts. I head downstairs, and see him at the kitchen table. He’s got a beer in his hands.
“You’re drinking in the day?” I ask, glaring at him. He just glances at the beer can, and then back at me.
“Yeah, I thought I’d help myself. Never seen this beer before.”
“Argh! Chance! You don’t just help yourself.”
“Why not?” he asks. “Lighten up. It’s a Saturday.”
That’s when I notice that he’s reading a magazine. My magazine. My heart stops as I see the fold on the corner of the page. I had folded that page to bookmark it. I close my eyes, and brace myself for what’s coming.
The title of the article is—
“How to blow your man’s… mind in bed?” he asks, looking up, amused, an eyebrow cocked.
“Shut up, Chance.” I walk over and try to snatch away the magazine but he pulls it away faster, and stands up, holding it above me.
“Hold on, I’m not done reading it. This is actually pretty good.”
“Damn it, Chance! Give that back to me!” My cheeks are burning and I’m furious at him. He shouldn’t be reading my stuff!
“I must say, though, you were a really good lay last night. Surprised me.”
I’m about to get even angrier at him, but then I hear the front door unlocking, and instantly my eyes dart to the clock. Oh my God, it’s already three? That had to be my father!
“Chance,” I hiss, glaring at him. “You have to get out of here! Now! Go out the back door.”
“What?” he asks, bunching his brow. “Fuck that. Why should I?”
“Well, at least throw the beer away!”
He picks up the can and just tips it my way. “I’m not finished.”
“It’s my Dad’s, and you’re not supposed to be just helping yourself to his stuff.”
“Whatever,” he says, shrugging. “What’s he going to do?”
“Sweetheart?” I hear my father call, and I just sigh, and bury my face in my hands.
“I’m in the kitchen, Dad.”
“I’ve brought Deborah to come and meet you,” he says. I freeze, and so does Chance.
“Deborah?” he mouths silently at me.
“Your mother?” I mouth back.
They appear in the kitchen doorway. Dad’s wearing an all-grey suit, and a white shirt without a tie, and his usually neatly-parted hair seems a bit ruffled. I notice that the top button of his shirt is undone, too. That’s definitely not his style.
Oh no, I think to myself. He’s having a midlife crisis!
My eyes wipe over to Deborah Hudson, Chance’s mother. She’s got to be fifteen years younger than Dad, and I give up trying to do the mental calculations on how old she must have been when she had Chance.
She is wearing a tight pencil skirt and white blouse with her top three buttons undone. Her cleavage, no doubt aided by a push-up, is extremely prominent.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes darting from me to Chance.
“Hi, Mom,” he says in what must be his most unenthusiastic voice ever.
“I didn’t know you two were friends?” she asks.
“We only just became friends,” I say hastily when I see Chance opening his mouth to speak. I get up off the chair and walk toward her, hand out. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Hudson.” I blink when I realize that she just married my father. “Uh—”
“You’re right in assuming I didn’t take his name,” she says, and she’s got this patronizing tone in her voice. “What an archaic institution.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I notice she’s completely ignored my outstretched hand. I let it fall awkwardly to my side. “Just call me Deborah. Could you get me a glass of water, honey? I’m so thirsty! You know, planes dry you out.”
I look from her to Dad, and he just nods at me, saying, go on with his eyes.
I sigh, and pour a glass of water.
“Thank you, Catherine.”
“It’s Cassie,” I say.
“I never did like shortened names,” Deborah sniffs.
I just blink. Whatever, Deb.
I stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. That’s when I notice Dad’s eyes are on the beer can still grasped in Chance’s hands. As if to taunt my father, Chance takes a big sip.
“Are you drinking my beer, young man?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Oh hell, I think.
“Yeah. It’s good stuff. Imported I guess? Not much flavor but goes down alright.”
“You’re under twenty-one,” Dad says, and I can hear the tightrope-tremble in his voice.
Chance just shrugs. “I am.”
“It’s okay, dear,” Deborah says, touching my father’s arm. “In our house, we decided the age would be eighteen.”
“Well, he’s in my damn house now.”
Deborah gasped. “Kyle! Let’s not do this now. Not in front of the children.”
I roll my eyes. The children!
They leave the kitchen and go to the living room, and I can hear them yelling at each other. I look to Chance, but he just smirks, and then he gets up and drains his beer.
“Well, this is off to a good start, isn’t it?” He checks his pockets. “I’m out.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“The fuck out of here,” he says.
“Why?”
“No offense, but I’m not going to stick around while your dad thinks he can have a go at me. I might just lose my temper.”
“So you’re just going to leave me to deal with my father and your mother?” I ask, exasperated. I put my hands on my hips, and glare at him. “Why do you always disappoint me?”
“Disappoint you?” he says, and he laughs. “See you later.”
“You can’t just leave me with your mother!” I growl, walking after him and jabbing a finger into his back.
He turns around, and to my complete surprises kisses me on the lips. I push him away, wiping my lips, and point a trembling finger at him.
“No!” I hiss. “They could have seen. They are right in the other room.”
“You liked it. It’s exciting, isn’t it? Turns you on.” He moves toward me, and puts a hand on my hip but I slap it away.
“If you want to stay, stay. But I’m going, okay, Cass?”
“Don’t call me Cass! And you can’t leave.”
“Who is going to stop me? Anyway, why don’t you just come with me?”
I stare at him, trying to think up a comeback, but the idea is admittedly inviting. I shrug. “Fine,” I say. “Can’t stand my father anyway.”
“Neither can I, and I only just met him.”
“Don’t talk about my family like that.”
He opens the door for me, grinning. “Whatever you say, Cass.”
“Don’t call me Cass.”
*
We walk together along the beach, not really talking, just thinking. To me, it’s pretty crazy, all of this, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers Cass. Maybe it’s the ick-factor for her, but I just don’t feel it. We had no way of knowing… and even if we did know, would it have stopped anything?
“What happened to your mother?” I ask, breaking the quiet. She snaps her head at me. I figure I’d better go first. “My father left while my mother was pregnant. I met him once, couple of years ago. He was back in town, looked me up. Told me he was my dad.”
“And?” she asks me.
“I told him to fuck off.”
“You know, he might have realized he made a mistake.”
“Like I give a shit about giving him absolution.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Yeah, tried to tell me not to behave the way I was. He got up in my face about it, too.”
“Oh,” she says, and she wrings her hands. “It was like that.”
“He tried to grab my arm when I turned to leave, tried to ask me to reconsider. It was a bit pathetic.”
“But maybe he really did make a mistake. Maybe he had regrets.”
“People got to own their mistakes, and own their regrets. I wasn’t about to make his life easier for him. What’s in it for me?”
“You could have formed a relationship with your real father.”
“Ten years too late for that, Cass.”
I pull out a cigarette and light it, and we continue walking for a bit in silence.
“My mother died when I was seven. She had a cancerous tumor on her spine. It came really quickly, like, one minute she’s healthy and fine and it’s like nothing is wrong, and the next she’s in hospital, weak and withering away. From the moment she was diagnosed to the day she died was only a little over six months.”
I feel a thump in my chest. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
“To be honest, I don’t really think about it that much.”
“So it’s just been you and your dad ever since, huh?”
“Yeah… until now. I don’t know why he’s suddenly married your mother. They only just met. It’s crazy, if you ask me.”
“Right time, right place, right drinks, right atmosphere, anything can happen. Hey, they were in Vegas, right?”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
I shrug. “I don’t understand it, either.”
&
nbsp; “You know, technically, last night we were already… family.”
“That doesn’t bother me,” I say truthfully. “It’s just a technicality. You’re not my real sister, we had no way of knowing. Shit, why fucking waste time worrying about it?”
She doesn’t reply, so we just keep on walking.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. It’s a text from my mother:
Chance, go home and pack a suitcase. We’ll be joining Kyle and Cassie for their trip to England. We fly tomorrow evening!
Love Mom
I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing.
Cassie looks at me, and says, “What?”
I hand her my phone, shaking my head. This day just keeps getting better and better.
“Looks like you and me are stuck together for a little while yet, Cass.”
And she just looks completely horrified.
*
chapter nine
It is so good to be off that damn plane!
The baggage carousel trundles around lazily, and I’m just zoning out. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and the plane food has only left me feeling bloated. I can feel the button of my jeans digging into my skin, and a part of me just wants to unbutton it, damned if anyone sees.
“Which one is yours?” Chance asks, striding up next to me.
“I don’t need your help,” I say.
“I wasn’t offering.”
“Chance, I’m tired. Can we not do this here?”
He grins at me. “What is it you think we’re always doing? We’re not doing anything.”
“Why are you asking me which one is mine?” I sigh, and rub my forehead.
“Because no new suitcases are coming out. You’ve stared at the same bags go around three times now.”
I blink, and that’s when I notice my grey suitcase.
“What the hell?” I murmur to myself.
“That one yours?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He walks over and hoists it off the carousel, and he sets it down at my feet.
Chance Her Stepbrother Page 6