PIERCED - A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Brentwood, CA – Summer before senior year of high school

Voices trail in from the pool. The closer I get the more it sounds like laughter. I peek out the window by the terrace and see my father sitting between my mother and Sandra Pierce. They’re running lines, reading off thick scripts that sit nestled between tumblers of expensive bourbon and resting cigarettes, though it doesn’t seem like work. Sandra is laughing her infectious laugh and my mother is red-faced. My father, internationally known jazz trumpeter DeVonn Hudson, mutters something that forces my mom to gift him with a dirty glare.

They do that – Sandra and my dad. They gang up on my mother and package it like they’re only teasing. Sandra is effervescent in nature, and my mom is more serious. Somehow those two are best friends, though I’m told the friendship started when they both had co-starring roles on some 1980s sitcom. Dad says they balance each other out. He says it just works and not to question it. Kind of like how no one wants to watch how sausage gets made.

“Why are you just standing there staring at them?” It’s Sutton, Sandra’s son. We used to be best friends until last summer when he decided it would be a good idea to date Kerrigan Zanuck – the bane of my existence. “It’s weird.”

“Why are you here?” I spit. I fold my arms and turn to face him. He’s sprawled out on our sofa, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. I don’t know how I didn’t see him there before.

“My mom made me come,” he says with a sigh that tells me he doesn’t want to be there.

I casually run my hand along the length of a curled tendril. “You grounded or something?”

“Yep.” He rolls over to his stomach and fires off a text. The fact that he won’t look at me is a red-hot burn under my warm, caramel skin. We used to be best friends. I used to love him.

Scratch that – I still love him. For some insane reason I can’t comprehend, I’m still carrying a torch for him. Nobody said love was easy, especially young love propelled by hormones, fueled with rumors, and magnified by the human instinct that makes us want the things we think we shouldn’t have.

I’ll die before I ever tell him that.

“Kindly remove your shoes from our sofa.” I’m picking. I want to pick at him. I want to dig and nag and annoy, and perhaps I’m sort of doing it to test him.

He sits up, sliding his legs across the pale, gray-beige Belgian linen my mother’s decorator had so lovingly picked out for our family room. “There. Happy?”

I nod, though he doesn’t see. His face is still buried in his phone.

“What’s wrong, Lauryn? Just say it. Whatever you’re thinking right now, just say it. Stop standing there fidgeting and burning holes into the back of my head with that fucking scowl on your face.” He places his phone on the reclaimed wood coffee table next to a book about Marilyn Monroe, leans back into the cushions, and twists around to face me. Now that I have his full attention, I’m not quite sure what to do with it.

“I don’t miss you,” I fib. “For the record. I don’t.”

His golden eyes flash, holding my stare for far too long before releasing me. “Aw, Lauryn. Sure you do.”

He rises from the sofa and steps carefully toward me. My arms are still crossed, as if I’m protecting something. My heart, perhaps? My dignity? My self-control?

“I’ve missed you.” He’s encroaching into my territory. I can smell him. He’s wearing the cologne I picked out for him two summers ago during a lazy Saturday trip to the mall. I close my eyes and breathe him in, willing myself not to enjoy it. It’s no use. I inhale him like the oxygen I need to survive. “I’m not afraid to admit it, unlike you.”

I open my eyes. Our body heats mix and swirl before evaporating into nothing. My heart gallops, and I receive it in my ears as it blends with a swishing sound.

“The ship has sailed, Sutton.” I step away, inching toward the open bannister that surrounds the stairs that lead to my wing of the house. “You could’ve had me last year.”

“Apparently, you didn’t make that abundantly clear because I thought you were just being a cock tease.”

“Cock tease?” My mouth hangs open in disgust.

“Fuck, Lauryn.” His head tilts back before snapping forward. “You flirted with me all summer. We spent every single day together. And the second we started fooling around in the pool, you ran off crying like some schoolgirl on a playground. Then you refused to take my calls. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“Not run off and hook up with Kerrigan Zanuck.”

“It didn’t happen quite like that, Lauryn. You’re making it sound worse than what it was.”

“Maybe you should’ve tried harder.” I unfold my arms and step back. He comes toward me, closing the space between us again. “Maybe I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” He doesn’t get it. “We’ve been best friends since before we could walk. You’ve known me your whole life. What’s there to be scared about?”

“I don’t know.” Lie. I was afraid of falling for him. Getting hurt. And I was afraid of losing the best friend I’d ever had. It all happened anyway.

Sutton’s hand reaches for my hip, and he pulls me into him. He towers over me even at seventeen, and I’m quite certain he’s been hitting the school gym hard since our year of estrangement. Junior year was lonely without him, but my hurt ran deep enough that it overrode the pain of not being able to pick up a phone and call him.

I never should’ve run off that night.

We were in the pool, salt water lapping over our skin as he picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to the grotto, kissing me hard as we ducked under the waterfall.

We’d broken into my father’s liquor stash, and I was quite positive the only reason Sutton Pierce was kissing me was because he was drunk and horny, like a typical teenage boy.

With hormones running wild and free, I untied my bikini top and pressed my skin against his, tasting the rum on his tongue as tingles of excitement ran rampant through every part of me.

Sutton’s palm slid along my thighs until his fingers took a detour, untying my bottoms. Tracing his hand between my thighs, my body jolted and stiffened when his fingers found my most sensitive area.

Sutton Pierce, the boy who used to chase me with frogs, the boy who took family vacations with us to Aspen and the Hamptons, the boy who threw sand in my bed and pulled on my pig tails, was becoming a grown man with the power to own my body and soul with a single, solitary kiss.

His fingers slipped inside me, my body clenching around them as my breath halted.

“Relax,” he whispered between kisses. “I’m going to make you feel amazing, Lauryn. Trust me.”

My thoughts scattered like leaves to the wind.

What if he doesn’t mean it?

What if he’s just doing this because he’s horny and that’s what guys do?

What if things get weird between us and he never talks to me again after this?

My body tensed harder, going to war with my brain, which refused to shut off and enjoy the ride.

His mouth lowered to my breasts, taking a single nipple in his mouth and grazing his teeth across it as his free hand massaged my opposite breast with the kind of experienced touch a man much older than Sutton might have had.

Something hard brushed against the underside of my thigh. Sutton had a hard-on. For me. I turned him on. Me. He wanted to fuck me.

Our dynamic was shifting faster than I could comprehend. Confusion swirled inside me as my body and mind went to war. Sutton was the only thing that ever mattered to me, and giving myself to him was going to change everything.

“Stop. I can’t. I…”I pushed off of him and plucked my bikini pieces from the water before swimming to the ledge and climbing out. I ran inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints. The house froze my skin the second I flew through the sliding doors, and I bolted up to my room before our housekeeper could catch me. From behind the curtain of my bedroom window, I watched as Sutton climbed out of the pool and dried off. He shook his head, and his lips moved as if he were muttering something under his breath. He entered the house after that and five minutes later, he squealed out of our circle drive, disappearing over the hill in his jet black Range Rover.

I tossed and turned all night long, replaying every tantalizing touch, every ill-intentioned glance that had led up to that moment in the pool. My body scolded me for not fucking the shit out of Sutton Pierce when I had the chance, but my mind assured me I did the right thing.

I ignored his call the next morning, unsure of what to say. I’d hoped that after a few more days passing, we could pretend like it never happened and things would get back to normal.

And then I saw a picture in his newsfeed. Kerrigan Zanuck, my arch nemesis, posted a selfie of the two of them kissing and tagged him in it.

“That fucking asshole.” I threw my phone across the room, not giving a fuck when it skidded across the carpet and slammed against the wall.

Of all the people in the world he could use to get me back, he used her?

Unforgivable!

“I think you do know what you were scared of, you just don’t want to say it,” Sutton says, snapping me back to the present moment. “They say the truth can set you free, Lauryn. You should try it sometime.”

Replaying last summer in my head sends me into an instant state of resentment all over again. I stare down at the floor, jamming my toe into the wide-planked wood floor. “I was worried things would change between us.”

He furrows his dark brows. “Yeah, Lauryn. They would’ve changed for the better. But you ran off and everything changed anyway so…”

He steps away, releasing me and tossing his hands in the air.

“I know.” I shake my head. I miss him terribly, and the only way I’ll ever get him back into my life is if I swallow my pride. “Can we try again?”

He bends his head to the side. “We’re going off to college in a year. You’re going to Pepperdine, and I’m going east. Why start anything now?”

“I mean, as friends,” I say. I’ll settle for just being friends if it means having him in my life again. Young love is all kinds of complicated, and this is just par for the course.

Sutton’s face softens, his golden eyes locking into mine. “Yeah, Lauryn. We can be friends again. I can’t promise I won’t be thinking dirty things about you all summer, but we can be friends.”

His words send my heart into a tailspin as a slow burn reaches my core. He’s going to try to fuck me this summer, and I just might let him this time. He’s my best friend, I love him, and nothing will ever change that.

Present

“You can just set that there.” A humid breeze rustles past as the sun falls in the western sky. The table is set up on my balcony. A white cloth. Candles. Our dinners professionally cooked and being kept warm by metal cloches. A young man from a catering company lights the candles and flits off to grab his things and leave.

A knock on the door five minutes later tells me that my
dear stepsister
has finally arrived. My heart knocks in my chest. She was cute in high school. All the guys wanted her. But college and young adulthood have magnified that. She seems to have stepped into her skin a little more, wearing it like a finely tailored coat. Finally comfortable with being attractive.

“You’re early,” I say as I pull the door open. She brushes past me just as the catering guy is rushing out the door. She’s taking in my apartment, soaking in every square inch of industrial loft ceilings, stained concrete flooring, and reclaimed oak furniture. Her face is frozen. I’m not sure if she likes what she sees, though I’m not sure that I care. I didn’t decorate the place, some schmuck from Restoration Hardware did.

“You had this catered?” She scrunches her face at me as if I’ve committed some atrocious crime. Lauryn glides across the room toward the balcony, tugging the door open with all her might.

“I don’t cook.” I shut the door before following her outside.

She leans against the balcony railing, peering toward the night traffic below. Cascades of ebony curls spill down her shoulders and swirl around her face, framing the smile she’s trying to fight. “Why are you treating this like some special occasion?”

“Because it
is
a special occasion.” I stand back, watching her. I’m in a trance. Mesmerized really. “I’ve waited a long time to see you again.”

Every part of that final summer we shared is forever engrained in my memory. I replay those days sometimes, when I can’t sleep or when I have a rough day at the hospital. They make me happy. Mostly. Everything about that summer was magical right up until the very end.

Lauryn spins to face me and rolls her dark eyes, biting away a smile as she takes a seat. She lifts the cover and sets it aside as I retrieve a chilled bottle of Moscato and pour her a glass.

She’s wearing skintight jeans and a white sleeveless blouse that flows when she moves. She changed before coming over. A gentle breeze carries the scent of her gardenia perfume across the table. It’s same one she wore back in high school. Marc Jacobs or some shit like that.

She still cares. She totally fucking cares.

“How are you liking Miami so far?” I slice a piece of filet mignon and fork it, waiting until she responds before bringing it to my mouth.

“I hate it.” She takes a bite of the grilled balsamic chicken I had made especially for her. She had an obsession with balsamic vinegar back in the day, pouring it over her salads, veggies, and meats like it was common table salt. She chews slowly, and I catch her closing her eyes for a brief moment as if she’s enjoying it. “I’m moving the first chance I get.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad.” I slice another chunk of steak.

“I thought it’d feel like vacation.” She bats away a bug that flies over her plate. “So far it’s just really, really hot. And humid.” She lifts her dark hair off her neck, and I swear it’s swollen in size since she got here.

“You’ll get used to it.” My  is heavy, coating her with the weight of my thoughts. “I’d love to show you around sometime. Show you all the city has to offer.”

She takes a sip of wine. “No matter. I’m moving to New York the first chance I get.”

“New York? What’s in New York?”

“James.” She takes another sip. Her wine is dwindling, and I refill it without so much as asking. I know she needs it.

“Of course.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Fucking James.

“He works in New York,” she explains, not that I asked. “I’m just waiting for an opening in his region and then I’m gone.”

We finish our dinner in silence, polishing off the bottle of wine. She avoids my stare like the plague, which leads me to believe it has the power to dismantle the hard exterior she puts on around me.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” I can’t think of a better way to break an awkward silence than to hurl an unexpected compliment her way. “You were always pretty, Lauryn. But now? Seeing you all grown up?”

I don’t finish my thought out loud; instead I bask in her beauty and get lost inside my head for a moment. Lauryn is a multicultural beauty. She’s all curves and edges. Perfection harvested from the best of both worlds. Her legs are long and shapely and her shoulders pull back just enough to make her chest rise and fall a bit when she sighs. The cupid’s bow shape of her full upper lip, the one I used to devour that summer after high school, is still beautifully arched and defined. Her nose points narrowly, and her almond eyes are hooded with long, dark lashes.

Lauryn shifts in her seat, standing up as if she needs a break from the heat of my stare. She ambles over toward the balcony ledge, staring down. The sky is pitch black now, lit up by a few hard-to-see stars and the lights of downtown Miami.

“You can learn to love it if you try hard enough.” I step beside her and plant my elbows on the railing.

“It’s not about the city.” She sighs.

“Is it because I’m here?” I’ve never been good at beating around the bush. Some say it’s a weakness. I say it’s my greatest strength.

“No.” She’s lying. I know she is. “How’s your mom?”

I see through Lauryn like glass. She’s not asking about my mom at all. She’s asking about her dad. And it’s not because she cares either. She wrote him off along with me that summer. But she’s always been one to let curiosity get the best of her. Some things never change.

“You’re not missing anything.” I pull in a sharp breath and hang my head. “He’s still an asshole if it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure he’s been fucking around on Mom since…”

I don’t finish my sentence. I don’t have to.

“Why would that make me feel better?” she fires back. Her chocolate eyes are darker than ever, maybe intensified by years of resentment.

“I don’t know. Justice?”

I’ve tried to imagine what justice might mean to Lauryn and her mom. To Lauryn, finding out a woman, who was essentially her second mom, had destroyed her family as she knew it was nothing short of traumatic. To her mother, finding out her best friend of twenty years was sleeping with her husband, and that they were going to run off together and get married, was earth shattering.

“Shutting me out was never the answer.” My voice is low, rumbling deep in my chest. She’s angry with me, but I’m angry too. We deal with our anger in different ways though. She likes to shut people out. I like to face my problems head on.

“You knew.” Her words are guttural. “You knew all along. You knew it was going on for years, Sutton, and you never said anything. You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve at least warned us.”

“I was just a kid,” I say, silently recalling how I’d walked in on her dad fucking my mom across the back of a poker table one Tuesday afternoon. When I tried to confront him about it on his way out of our house that night, he socked me across the face and told me he’d rip my dick off if I so much as breathed a word about it to anyone else. If the shiner wasn’t enough, he also threatened to ban me from ever seeing Lauryn again. That was worse than any kind of physical pain he could’ve inflicted. The affair continued for years. “If I could go back, Lauryn, I’d have said something. I’d have warned you both so you didn’t find out the way you did.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Lauryn leans away from the balcony and eyes the inside of my apartment. “I should go.”

“You just got here.”

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Bullshit.”

Her full lips form a perfect circle, and her arms cross as she pushes past me.

“Why’d you come here?” I chase after her. “You still hate me so much, why’d you come over for dinner?”

“Because you wouldn’t let it go.” She stops dead and turns to face me. Her arms are still crossed, and her face is flushing.

“You’re lying, Lauryn.” I invade her space, closing the gap between us. I reach for her soft face, cupping it in my right hand. “You still miss me. You still care. And it kills you.”

She won’t look me in the eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I add. I run my thumb along her bottom lip before releasing her. “I can’t force you to be a part of my life. I can’t make you forgive me. Shit, the person you need to forgive is your father, but we all know that’s not going to happen. But it’s fine. You can direct your anger at me. I can take it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She twists away, reaching for her bag by the console table next to the door. “Goodbye, Sut.”

Sut. She called me Sut.

My lips curl as she slams the door behind her. “She still fucking cares.”