Step F*@K: Part Two (A Stepbrother Series Book 2) (5 page)

“I really don’t give a toss if people know, or not. They’re not going to care. And if they
did
care, it would be for about two seconds, and then they’d forget it and go back to worrying about their own problems. People can only be scandalized for so long before they move on to something else. I, for one, am actually quite thrilled that I get to see you again. Which is saying a lot, considering how much of a bitch you were right before you left. And if it
wasn’t
because you knew that our parents were getting hitched—then what?
 
But really, I think we can move past all that. We can play nice at the lake house. It’s like we’ll be on a very lovely vacation together. It’s a pretty great place.”
 

I peek out from behind the column, just in time to see my mother craning her head around, presumably looking for me, since my chair next to her has been empty for some time now.
 

“We have to go back out there,” I say. “We can sit at the same table, we can maybe even have a cordial conversation, but under
no
circumstances are you allowed to bring up ANYTHING that is going to suggest we . . . we . . .”

“Fucked?”
“That we knew each other before we met tonight. Because that’s what my mother thinks, I’m sure that’s what your father thinks. And we’re going to just let them keep thinking that, all right?”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he says.
 

“Just behave yourself.”

I turn and walk back to my seat before he has a chance to respond. I feel like it’s written all over my face, like anyone who even glances my way is going to know exactly what happened between Jai and me, and—worst of all—are going to know how attracted I still feel toward him.
 

It’s a truly awful juxtaposition, feeling this intense attraction that is also causing an intense feeling of repulsion. But the repulsion is mostly with myself, not Jai, and the fact that despite knowing we’re about to become stepsiblings, and despite the fact that he’s
married
—I scan the room for a possible wife, but don’t see her—I still find him so fucking hot.
 

“Where’s your food?” my mother asks. “Please don’t tell me you’re on one of those diets where all you drink is flavored water. I know someone who did that, she lasted about a week and lost almost ten pounds, but then she fainted and ended up chipping her front tooth when she hit the corner of the counter. Not worth it.” She eyes me. “If it’s because you feel like you’re not fitting into your
dress
, well, that’s because that dress is about five sizes too small. Don’t be ashamed to buy clothing in your own size, Emma. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact—”

I feel someone touch my shoulder. I look, and Jai is there, and he’s got a plate of food and a wine glass, which he places in front of me.
 

“You forgot your plate,” he says. As he straightens back up, he pauses by my ear and whispers, “And don’t worry—I didn’t roofie the drink. But I can if you’d like.”

“Oh, Jai, that’s so kind of you,” Mom gushes. “Emma, isn’t your stepbrother just the sweetest? Such a gentleman. They really do raise them differently over in England. You’re
such
a doll, Jai, thank you.” Mom beams at him, completely oblivious to what he just whispered.
 

“You’re too kind, Stephanie,” he says. He rests his hand on my shoulder for a second, giving it the lightest squeeze, before walking away. Mom is gazing after him.
 

“Isn’t he great?” she says. “God, if I wasn’t but a decade younger . . .” She laughs. “What am I saying . . . Zack’s incredible. He really is. We’re so happy together. I hope that you eventually find someone that understands you the way Zack understands me. It’s so important, Emma. I was talking to your sister about this a little bit, and I know she’s in a good relationship right now, and I think it’ll last, but it’s so important that you find someone who understands you. Not just the good parts, but everything. Your father and I had some good times, but we just really brought out the worst in each other. Not the sort of partnership you want to be in for the rest of your life. With Zack, it’s different.”
 

I might not totally approve or understand my mother’s relationship with Zack, but it’s clear that she’s happy, and who knows? Maybe it will work out. Who am I to say, anyway, I clearly know nothing. Jai is sitting a few seats down from me, on the other side of his father. I try not to look his direction, but the pull feels inexorable, as though there’s this invisible filament connecting us. I focus on my plate, the food he brought me.
 

Oysters. All oysters.
 

Normally I’d be thrilled for the chance to dine on one of my favorite foods, but I just can’t shake the feeling that Jai is a mere seven feet away from me. Mom is saying something to him, Jessica is laughing, and Zack is leaning forward, looking at me.
 

“So you’re studying architecture,” he says.
 

I nod. “Yes.”

“I imagine that’s quite a rigorous course load you have. I had a cousin that studied architecture.”

“It is a lot of work,” I say, trying to look at Zack without looking at Jai, which is a bit impossible considering Jai is right next to him. Jai leans forward a little, catches my eye. I look away. “I am glad that it’s summer and I’ll have a little bit of a break from it.”
 

“I’ve always found the study of architecture quite fascinating,” he says. “Please don’t take offense to this, but you actually strike me as more of an . . . artistic person. Not to say that architecture isn’t art in it’s own right.”

“Wow,” Jessica says. “You hit that nail right on the head. Emma would never tell anyone this herself, because she’s actually quite a wonderful painter.”

“Well isn’t that something,” Zack says. “You’ll have to show me some of your work some time.”

My face feels like it’s on fire. It’s all I can do to keep from shooting Jai a serious death stare.
 

“I . . . I really just do it as more of a hobby,” I say. “I’m pretty busy with school and everything.”

“It’s important to follow your passions,” Jai says.
 

Mom raises her glass. “Here, here.”

“That is true,” I say. “Jai, what are some of your passions? You seem like someone who . . . who has a lot of
joie
de vivre
,” I finish lamely. Obviously, coming up with some sort of witty quip to put him on the spot isn’t going to happen. My face still feels like it’s smoldering.
 

“Oh, I have many passions,” he says, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can hear the amusement in his voice. I take a sip of my wine and glance over; he’s looking right at me, a coy half-smile on his face. “I’d say I’m a very passionate person, as a matter of fact. The type of person who enjoys the finer things in life. Oh, and surprises. I absolutely love surprises, of all kinds.”

“Who doesn’t love a good surprise,” Mom says. “I know it was certainly a wonderful surprise when I met Zack and we hit it off.”

The people nearest us raise their glasses; a few of them clap. I barely hear any of it though; all I’m aware of is Jai—it’s like it’s just the two of us here. He’s the only presence that’s really registering, but I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want him to know that I’m even thinking about him at all.
 

The rest of the meal is excruciating, though I have a feeling it’s mostly in my head. One of Zack’s friends, an actor that I remember seeing in a big summer blockbuster back when I was in high school, stands up and makes a toast to my mom and Zack. I assume he’s saying some funny things, because everyone is laughing, but I don’t really hear anything at all. It’s like, I know he’s speaking but the words are completely nonsensical.
 

To keep myself from looking over at Jai, I eat the oysters, slowly and methodically. They’re delicious, but I register that as secondary, because I’m more focused on the actual act of eating them, of giving myself something to do. I’m like one of those sheep dogs that needs a task to do or it will go crazy. Except in my case, going crazy means letting Jai know how much his presence is affecting me.
 

People linger after the meal is over, and Mom is a little tipsy, I can tell.
 

“Let’s go get ice cream!” she says. “I want ice cream. And there’s a great place, just a few blocks from here. Near the pier. They’ve got salted caramel, lavender honey . . . a whole bunch of others I can’t even remember. And as the bride-to-be, I should be able to indulge myself a bit: I want ice cream!” She bangs her fist on the table in a very un-ladylike sort of way.
 

Most of the people that are still here decline the offer, but a few of them take my mother up on it, and I find myself getting jostled out of the restaurant, following Zack, my mother, a few of their friends, Jessica, and . . . Jai.
 

I manage to stick close to my sister as we walk down there, the smell of the salt smell of the ocean getting more noticeable the closer we get to the pier. Jai is behind us, or off to the side, I’m not quite sure, though I’m trying to discreetly look while my sister fills me in about life in Oregon.
 

“Emma,” she says.
 

I look at her. “What?”

“Are you okay? You seem super distracted. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just . . . it’s just a lot to process.”
 

Jess smiles and takes my arm in hers. “A little ice cream should help with that. I know it’s been a whirlwind. I think it’s good that we’re all going to get a chance to hang out at Zack’s lake house for a little while. It’ll be a slower pace. It’ll be nice.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”
 

Up ahead of us, my mother laughs loudly at something someone in the group said. Zack’s got his arm around her shoulders, and she’s kind of leaning into him, and you can just tell by her body language, by the sound of her laughter, how happy she is, as though this is the moment she’s been waiting for all her life.
 

“Mom does seem happy,” I say. Maybe if I focus on that I’ll be able to stop thinking about Jai. But right as the thought crosses my mind, I see him in my peripheral vision, about five feet away from us, to my right, sauntering past, hands in his pockets.
 

“Hello, stepsisters-to-be,” he says. “Rather nice evening to be out, especially for L.A.”
 

Jess, who is a teeny tiny bit tipsy, smiles widely. “I see you love L.A. about as much as I do,” she says.
 

“I can’t say I’m a huge fan of the place, no. But it hasn’t been as awful as I might’ve been expecting it to be. There have been some pleasant surprises.”

Jessica laughs along, as though she knows what he’s talking about. “I love surprises,” she says. I’m glad it’s dark and no one can see how red my face is getting. I try to steady my breathing, which is somewhat impossible considering how tight this dress is. It’s kind of a miracle that I haven’t passed out from lack of oxygen.
 

I try to tune out their conversation, though the snippets I catch seem mostly benign; Jai is asking her about her work. When we get to the ice cream place, Mom makes a big deal out of trying to predict what everyone’s favorite flavor is, and she, like my sister, I realize, is also rather tipsy. Well, that’s good then. Less of a chance for anyone to notice any weirdness between Jai and me.
 

I get the salted caramel on a sugar cone, just one scoop. I take a lick and it is quite good—the sweetness hits the tip of your tongue, the salty taste happens a little further, it seems. I take another lick and see Jai watching me. Mom and Jessica are standing at the window counter, talking to the ice cream scooper. There’s a bench in front of the store next to the ice cream shop, so I start to walk over to it. I’m about to sit down when I feel someone’s hand on the small of my back, pushing me past the bench, around the side of the store. It’s a little alleyway that ends at a dead end. I can hear my mother laughing about something.
 

“What are you doing?” I ask.
 

He’s got me pressed against the side of the building, about six inches of space between us. I try to push his hand away, and in the process, I tip my ice cream cone and the scoop falls off and lands with a splat onto the pavement.
 

“Oops,” Jai says. “I’ll have to make that up to you.”

I push him, but feebly.
He holds his hand out and lets his own ice cream fall, cone and everything.

“There,” he says. “Now we’re even.” He plucks the cone from my hand and drops it, then slides the top of my dress down, the night air cool on my bare breasts. My breath catches in my throat.
 

“Stop it,” I hiss, but I say it with about as much conviction as I just tried to push him away with. “Someone’s going to see us. They’re like right over there.”

He kisses my jaw, right below my ear, his mouth tantalizingly cold from the ice cream. I shudder, tingles of pleasure shooting through my midsection. He unknots the scarf. “That’s quite the mark you’re sporting there,” he says, letting the scarf fall to the ground. “Would you like a matching one for the other side?”
 

I try to push him away again, but it’s more to feel the weight of his resistance than to actually move him. I think back to last night, how it felt with his fully body weight pressing down on me, the feeling of him inside of me. I shiver.
 

“No,” I say. “I don’t think I’d like one for the other side. Someone could come over here at any second. Like your dad. Or my mom.”
 

“Well, we wouldn’t want them to see anything,” he says, bringing both his hands up to my breasts. My breathing quickens; I push my pelvis against his, feel his erection through his pants. “You ate all those oysters, didn’t you.” He pinches my nipples, hard enough that I start to cry out, but before the sound can actually clear my throat, he’s clamped his own mouth over mine, and then he’s kissing me ferociously and I just give in to it and kiss him back. He squeezes one of my nipples again, hard. I bite down on his lip, and I meant to just do it a little but it ends up being quite a bit more forceful than I intended.