Rummaging through the cupboards, I can’t help smiling when I find a stash of naughty stuff hiding at the back.
Pulling my hair back into a messy bun, I put my thoughts to the side and set about making something that will make me feel just a little bit better.
The sun’s just about to set, casting an orange glow throughout the kitchen. It almost makes it feel warm and inviting—almost. My mouth waters as I pour melted chocolate over the crushed biscuits and marshmallows I’ve managed not to eat already. Standing in only a vest and a small pair of hot pants, I decide to make myself a hot chocolate, grab a blanket, and enjoy my bowl of goodness out on the deck with a magazine. Chocolate makes everything that little bit better. If I eat enough, it might make me forget what this summer’s actually going to be like for me.
I’m just waiting for the kettle to boil when a shiver runs down my spine. I’m sure it’s just the size of the house that freaks me out. I’ve seen enough horror films to know there are plenty of hiding places in a place this big.
I’m still for a second, but when I don’t hear anything, I continue with what I was doing. That is, until a deep rumbling voice has every nerve in my body on alert.
“Wow, step daddy sure is attracting the young ones these days.” His voice is slurred, his anger palpable. It makes goosebumps prick my skin and a giant lump form in my throat. “You look too pure. Too innocent to be with that prick,” he spits.
There’s no love lost between my dad and my stepbrother, that’s not news to me, but the viciousness of his voice right now makes me wonder what their relationship is really like. My dad might be many things, but he wouldn’t cheat on Jenny—he loves her too much.
I can’t remember the last time I saw him, but there’s no way he can’t know it’s me. Who the hell else would be cooking in his kitchen? Deciding he’s just trying to rile me up, I go to collect my stuff and get out of his way. Unfortunately, he seems to have other ideas.
His breath tickles up my neck moments before the heat of his body warms my back.
“You came here for the wrong man. I can put that right, though.” The alcohol on his breath surrounds me. It’s a reminder that there’s a good chance he has no idea what he’s doing right now.
The softness of his nose running up the length of my neck has tingles racing through my traitorous body. I don’t realise he’s smelling me until he blows out a long breath and the scent of alcohol hits me once again. I turn to leave, but his hands slam on the counter behind me and cage me in.
“Look at me,” he demands.
“Let me go, Ben.”
If he’s surprised to discover it’s me, he doesn’t show it. If anything, his eyes shine with delight as he takes in every inch of my face before focusing on my lips. My stomach flips, knowing where his thoughts are.
Something passes over his face but it’s gone too quickly to be able to identify. He pushes himself from the counter and away from me. No more words are said, but when he gets to the door, he looks back over his shoulder and runs his eyes over my body. They hold a warning I don’t really understand.
Once he’s disappeared from sight, I sag back against the counter. What the hell was that?
After putting half of the rocky road on a tray in the fridge, I forgo sitting outside and instead take my spoils to my room to hide. There’s stuff everywhere in my room and, unlike the rest of this house, it makes me feel a little more relaxed.
Since the day Ben and I were introduced by our parents, we’ve not really had any kind of relationship. He’s pretty much stayed out of my way and, in turn, I’ve done the same. It’s not all that much of a task. When I’m here, he spends almost every minute somewhere else. When he’s home, he’s moody, arrogant, and generally a prick, so I’m more than happy to stay out of his way.
It’s just a shame he’s so damn pretty to look at. As the years have passed, he’s only become more attractive, too. I’ve no idea if it’s just his job or if he works out as well because every inch of him seems to be toned to perfection.
Jenny spends most of her time apologising for his attitude and trying to explain that he’s got a lot going on. I’m yet to discover what that is. As far as I can tell, he seems to be your average twenty-year-old guy who’d rather be off his arse drunk or with a woman than spending time at home with his parents.
By the time I’ve dug my way to the bottom of the bowl, I feel pretty sick. There’s still no sign of my dad or Jenny, but the music pounding from Ben’s room across the hallway leaves no doubt as to what kind of mood he’s in.
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PAINE: ROSEWOOD HIGH #2 Page 30