Stepbrother, Sort of... Read online

  Stepbrother, Sort of…

  NATASHA TATE

  COPYRIGHT 2014 NATASHA TATE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DEDICATION

  To my baby boy, Schuyler. Love you to infinity and beyond!

  Mama

  OTHER BOOKS BY NATASHA

  Coming soon!

  DESCRIPTION

  I love him. I hate him. I have no control.

  He’s my worst enemy and my fiercest protector all at the same time.

  He won’t let me go. He won’t leave me alone.

  And secretly, I kind of like him.

  No. Scratch that.

  I kind of love him.

  But we’re not supposed to be together, and if people ever discovered our secret…

  I don’t know what I’d do.

  No. Wait.

  I know exactly what I’d do.

  I just don’t think he’d let me do it…

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PREVIEW

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Look at her. She always looks so sad.”

  “I know. I kind of feel sorry for her.”

  “Should we invite her to sit with us? She always eats by herself.”

  “No. I don’t want people thinking we’re friends with her.”

  “I feel bad…”

  I pretended not to listen to the girls sitting behind me in the high school cafeteria. They didn’t feel sorry for me. They just needed something to talk about since their pretty little heads were filled nothing but glitter and perfume.

  One more year of this shit. I shoved my fork into my instant mashed potatoes and pushed the tray away. I wasn’t hungry anymore. The bell rang and the lunchroom cleared as students headed back to class.

  Nine more months of being the quiet, shy girl and then I could go off to college at Hampton State and start fresh amongst thirty-thousand strangers. I fully intended to create a new persona for myself and transform my awkward caterpillar self into a beautiful butterfly.

  I was never going to look back. Goodbye glasses. Goodbye mousy hair. Goodbye hiding my big breasts behind baggy sweatshirts and ill-fitting tees.

  I dreamed of having a normal social life. Having a group of friends. Having a boyfriend. Being kissed for the first time. Seeing what all the hype was about having sex. I’d yet to experience any of those things, though the curiosity burned bright inside the deepest parts of me.

  Kids were cruel and unforgiving in my town, and once you had a reputation for being a certain way, it pretty much stuck unless you got lucky. Lainey Carstens’ dad won the state lottery a couple years ago. No one wanted anything to do with her until that happened, and suddenly she had an instant group of friends and was crowned homecoming queen. Never mind her gap-toothed smile, frizzy curls, or the way she tried to squeeze her big caboose into a pair of skinny jeans. They all thought she was suddenly the hottest thing in town.

  The only remarkable thing to ever happen to me was the fact that my mother got married over the summer to the father of one of the most popular boys in school. His name was Dominic Drake, and I’d been crushing on him hard since first grade when he knocked over my milk at lunch, made me cry, then apologized to me after school. It was the only time he’d ever really done anything nice to me, yet I’d never forgotten it after all those years.

  I dumped my tray and headed to my locker the second the bell rang.

  “Incoming!” a guy yelled as a group of jocks, five guys wide, walked down the hallway and pushed people into their lockers, myself included. The cool metal stung my cheek as I dove headfirst into mine. I was going to have a headache the rest of the day thanks to those assholes. I glanced across the hallway to see who all had seen me get pushed, only to have my eyes lock with Dominic’s. For a second, his chocolate brown eyes softened, offering me a sliver of sympathy.

  “Guys, watch it,” he yelled after them, his eyes locked into mine. I half expected him to walk over and help me or ask if I was okay, but he didn’t. He slammed his locker shut and walked off in the opposite direction. We may have been living under the same roof at home, but at school, we were complete strangers. He made that perfectly clear with by actions.

  I grabbed my books and closed my locker as the bell chimed. I sighed. Not only did I hate being late, I hated being the last one to walk into class, left to figure out if I was going to sit between the gossipy popular girls or the guys who’d throw spit wads into my hair when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. I hated attention. I hated feeling their eyes on me and wondering what sorts of asshole things they were thinking.

  My cheeks burned red as I stepped into my chem class.

  “Well there she is,” Mr. Silvers said as I walked in, attracting all eyes onto me. I hated him so hard in that moment. “Come, Romilly. Find a seat. We’re about to get started.”

  I peered up over my glasses, scanning the room for empty chairs. Choosing my seatmate was like picking my poison. I scrambled to a vacant chair next to Sean Miller. He was nerdy, like me, though he was a tier above me. At my school there was even a hierarchy of nerds. He fidgeted a bit, as if he were uncomfortable sitting next to me, like I had cooties or something.

  I drew in a deep breath and focused on what Mr. Silvers was drawing on the board.

  “Hey, Romilly,” Chauncey Chambers whispered from the table next to me. He was one of the hottest guys in class, and he’d never so much as uttered a single word to me in my entire life.

  “What?” I whispered back, paranoid that Mr. Silvers might call on me out of spite if he found me not paying attention.

  “Is it true that Dominic Drake is your stepbrother?”

  “Yes.” My eyes focused on the whiteboard ahead of me. Panic seared through me when I realized everyone else was busy taking notes and I’d completely forgotten to pull out my notebook. I quickly rifled through my backpack in search of a writing utensil but came up empty handed.

  “Here,” Chauncey whispered, handing me his pen. “Take it. I’ve got more.”

  “Mr. Chambers and Miss Furler.” Mr. Silver spun around. I supposed it was true after all that teachers had eyes in the backs of their heads. “Enough with the disruptions.”

  My heart crawled up into my throat as the entire class of thirty students spun back around to face us. I could feel my cheeks flushing, but Chauncey just leaned back in his chair, all calm and cool like he always was. Nothing fazed him. He slicked a hand through his auburn hair and flashed a half smile at me.

  “Sorry, Mr. Silvers,” he said.

  Mr. Silvers continued to lecture, droning on and on about protons and neutrons or something like that. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t concentrate. I could feel Chauncey’s eyes on me, burning hot like lasers and making me melt from the inside. I lost my breath for a split second as I pretended not to notice.

  �
��What are you doing tonight?” Chauncey whispered when Mr. Silvers was busy rifling through some notes on his desk.

  “Me?” I whispered back.

  Chauncey’s lips spread into a wide grin, and his steel blue eyes flashed with a genuine kindness I’d never seen in anyone before. I tucked a strand of brown hair behind my ear.

  “Homework. I don’t know.” I hated myself for not thinking of something cooler to say.

  “Wanna go see a movie?” he whispered.

  “Me?” My ears were deceiving me. This had to be a dream. A daydream. A fantasy. An illusion. This wasn’t real.

  Chauncey smiled and rolled his eyes, nodding yes.

  “Alright,” Mr. Silvers said, his voice booming as his hands flew to his hips. “Romilly and Chauncey, thirty minute detention. Today. After school. My classroom.”

  My jaw dropped. I was a good girl. I studied hard. Got all A’s. I didn’t get detention.

  “But…” I began to protest. “I’ll miss my ride home.”

  My piece of shit Kia was in the shop for repairs, and Dominic was supposed to give me a ride home that night. He’d taken me to school and dropped me off at the front door. He said it was so I didn’t have to walk, but I had a feeling he didn’t want to be seen coming into school together. Not a lot of people knew our parents were married, and I suspected he wanted to keep it a secret. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

  My eyes began to well, half from embarrassment and half from getting detention for the first time in my entire life.

  “It’s okay,” Chauncey said to me, his voice low so only I could hear him. “I’ll take you home tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mr. Silvers released us from detention at precisely 3:30 P.M. The school was quiet and vacant, save for a few faculty and a couple janitors roaming the halls. I kept a careful distance from Chauncey, knowing guys like him didn’t like to be seen with girls like me. But to my surprise, he slowed down, letting me walk right next to him.

  Chauncey wasn’t the most popular boy in school, but he was one of the most charming and good looking. He never had problems getting dates, and he always seemed to be with a different girl, like he had them on rotation.

  “My car’s in the east lot,” he said, pointing to the east doors. The tepid September wind kissed our faces as we trekked outside to where his BWM was parked. Chauncey was one of those kids in school who were known for what they drove. Spencer Cross drove a silver Range Rover. Brad Strong drove a chromed out white Camaro. Chauncey Chambers drove a black BMW. Everyone knew that.

  The car beeped and we climbed in. The scent of vanilla car freshener floated around us, enveloping me into a cocoon of something that would forever make me nostalgic for that moment: the day one of the popular kids drove me home from school.

  “What kind of music do you like?” Chauncey asked as he started up the car. He reached into his console and pulled out an iPod, handing it to me. “Pick whatever you want.”

  My fingers trembled as I took it from him.

  “So where do you live?” he asked as he pulled out onto the main road.

  “East twelfth street,” I said softly. “The brick ranch on the corner.”

  “Dominic live with you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, wondering what his infatuation was with Dominic that day. Dominic was easily the most popular boy in the entire school, but he kept his inner circle tight and close. It was damn near impossible to be friends with him.

  “That’s cool,” he said, letting the issue rest. “Did you want to see a movie tonight?”

  “Oh,” I said, feigning like I’d completely forgotten he’d asked me that earlier. “Um, I have some homework to do tonight, but…”

  “Come on, live a little.” Chauncey pulled up to a stop sign and turned to face me, flashing a mega watt smile. I imagined what it felt like to kiss his full lips and then squeezed my legs when I felt a tingle between them. “Nothing wrong with a Tuesday night movie date, right?”

  Date. He called it a date.

  “Um,” I said, trying not to look utterly desperate as I wrapped my head around what was happening. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

  His lips curled into the smile of a boy who’d just gotten what he wanted. “Great. I’ll pick you back up in a few hours. Be ready by 6:30.”

  He pulled into my driveway, and I tried to exit the car smoothly and hide the fact that my entire body was trembling with excitement.

  ***

  “What are you so happy about?” my mother asked when I entered the house, unable to hide the smile that consumed my whole face.

  “Nothing.” I lied.

  “I’ve never seen you come home from school this happy before,” she said, one hand on her hip as she studied my face.

  Dominic entered the room and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. The apple looked tiny in his big, strong hand and he lifted it to his mouth, taking a huge hunk out of the side as the juices dripped down his chin. He wiped his chin and scrunched his face at me.

  “Yeah, you do seem different,” he said. He and his dad had been living with us for a couple months, and he was technically my stepbrother, but I still got nervous whenever he spoke to me. “What’s up with that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m going to the movies with someone tonight.”

  “With a boy?” My mother’s face lit up.

  “Yes,” I said, my eyes locking into Dominic’s.

  “Who?” he asked, no, more like demanded to know.

  “Chauncey Chambers,” I said, loving the way his name sounded as it rolled off my tongue. I never thought his name would be in my mouth, but damn it felt good. “Now if you two will excuse me, I have a date to get ready for.”

  I walked past my mother and pushed past Dominic, brushing against his firm shoulder and heading to my room. I shut the door and began rifling through my closet. Nothing was good enough. Nothing looked like what the other girls wore. My heart began to race. I wanted to look good. I wanted Chauncey to be glad he asked me out. I wanted him to show me off, like he showed off the other girls he dated.

  I pulled on a stretched out pink sweater and slid myself into a pair of faded jeans. I looked like a frumpy mom, but maybe if it was dark in the theater, he wouldn’t be focusing on that?

  I pulled my glasses off, squinting at my fuzzy reflection in the mirror. I had to leave them on if I wanted to see the theater screen. I sighed and slipped them back on.

  I pursed my lips together, imagining what it might feel like if Chauncey were to kiss me that night, and then I felt the tickling burn between my thighs. I closed my eyes.

  Maybe senior year won’t be so bad after all? Maybe being Dominic Drake’s stepsister had its perks?

  My entire life I wanted to be treated like I was normal and not like the geeky, shy, introvert I was. And for the first time in my life, it was actually happening.

  ***

  I paced the living room, scanning outside and scrutinizing every set of headlights that zoomed down our street.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  I spun around, only to see Dominic standing in the hallway, looking me up and down with his nose scrunched.

  “That’s what you’re wearing on your date?” he asked.

  “What’s wrong with it?” My lips trembled as my eyes flew to the clock. He was going to be there any second.

  Dominic rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

  I followed him back to his room. I’d never set foot in there before. I carefully over the chaos and overabundance of random items covering the floor of his bedroom as he rifled through his closet. He pulled out a pair of his jeans and pressed them up to my hips.

  “Those should work.” He handed them to me.

  “Those are men’s jeans! I’m not wearing those.” I crossed my arms.

  “I see girls wear these all the time,” he said, cocking his head to the side and holding them out. “I think they call ‘em boyfriend jeans?”


  “You’re a good half a foot taller than me,” I argued.

  “Cuff ‘em.”

  “I still don’t have a shirt to wear.”

  “Here,” he shoved the jeans into my arms as he left to head to my room. I quickly took mine off and slipped into his. They hung onto my hips, but they fit. Dominic returned with a shirt of mine as I was cuffing the bottoms.

  He stopped short, looking me up and down for a second. “Wear this.”

  He handed me a white camisole he must’ve found rifling through my top dresser drawers and a navy blue cardigan I’d grown out of two years ago.

  “That cardigan’s too small,” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter. Trust me. Wear it.”

  “Get out.” I pointed towards his door and he stepped out into the hall for a second as I squeezed into the cami and cardigan. The sweater hugged my upper body and made my boobs look ten times bigger.

  Ugh. He was right.

  “You can come back in now,” I called.

  “Damn,” he said when he entered. His full lips curled into a grin, as if he were pleased with his masterpiece, and he tucked a strand of his loose, wavy blond hair behind his ear as he nodded. “Damn, I’m good.”

  My cheeks blushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You look good, Romilly,” he said. He walked closer to me, the faint scent of his cologne reaching my nostrils. He yanked off my glasses. “You’re not wearing those tonight.”

  My hand flew to grab them from him, but I was too late. He folded them up and slipped them in his back pocket.

  His hand flew up under his chin as he studied me. “You know, you’re actually kind of pretty without your glasses. Why the fuck do you wear those anyway? No one wears glasses.”

  I felt naked without them. Vulnerable. Exposed.

  “Stop hiding behind those,” he said, shaking his head. “Get some fucking contacts. It’s 2015.”