STEPBROTHER: Bad Boy Blues (Taboo Romance) (9 page)

Darwin wasted no time.  He quickly got up, went to where I was, grabbed my hand and led me towards the cabinet.

“See you later, guys!” he told the group.  “Carry on without us!”

We went inside the cabinet.  It was bigger than the usual dresser, but still quite small to completely accommodate two people.  We squeezed our bodies inside, embracing each other just to be able to fit in the compartment.

He closed the door and darkness engulfed the chamber.  I could barely see him.

“What the fuck was that about?” I asked him.

“Why are you cursing?” he asked.  “You never curse.”

“The fuck do you care?” I answered.  I wanted him to think that I was furious so that he wouldn’t know how tense I was, being that close to him and all.

“Elizabeth, you never curse,” he repeated.  “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

“Who offered you drinks?  Emerson?  I’m gonna beat the shit out of that dickhead!”

“No, no, it wasn’t Emerson.”

“Then you’re admitting that you’re drunk?”

“I’m admitting that I did drink, but I’m not drunk.”

In an unbelievable case of bad timing, I burped after saying those words.  I think he smelled the alcohol from my breath.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly.  “You are drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” I answered.  I felt a bit of shame at that moment.

“Did you ever think about how your mom would feel if she’ll find out that you got drunk?”

“Oooohhhh... the great Darwin McKenzy’s acting like a grown-up all of a sudden.  Chillax, dude.”

“Chillax?  That’s not a word I expected to hear from you.”

“Well... as you’ve said earlier, we’ve only known each other for less than a week.  And a great majority of that time, you don’t even acknowledge my existence.  You’d be surprised to know that there’s more of me that are beyond your expectations.”

“Good or bad?”

“A little of both, maybe.”

“Care to share them?”

“That would take a while...”

“We have the time, and we have the privacy,” he reminded me.  “Now, shall we start?”

M
y breasts were pressed against his chest but I didn’t care.  It was either because my body has grown numb from the amount of alcohol I have consumed, or because we had no choice but to push our bodies against each other to fit inside the small space of the cabinet.

Or maybe it was because I just wanted him near me. 

It was funny that I’ve never realized how tall he really was until that moment we shared in the dresser.  Now that I was standing in front of him, I noticed that his neck was at my eye’s level.

“How many girls have you fucked?” I inquired, quite sullenly.  I didn’t know why I asked him that.  It just came out of my mouth.  Perhaps if was because those condoms in his room were still bothering me, and the Tequila gave me the courage to confront him about them.

“Why do you want to know?” he questioned.  I could barely see him but I knew he was smiling.  The tone of his voice revealed it.  Jovial, calm, patient.

“Just answer the damn question,” I said, again, with feigned annoyance.

“Let me see.”  He started to count in hushed words.  “Around twenty, I think.”

That was a lot for a nineteen year old!

“And how many girls have you fucked since moving in with us?”

Again, he counted silently. 
One, two, three... twelve, thirteen... twenty, twenty-one... twenty-eight...

“Including Chelsea Summers?” he tried to clarify?

Ugh!

“Yes, including her!” I answered furiously, though that time around, my anger wasn’t faked.

“None,” he answered.

“None?” I was taken aback by his answer.  “Then why are there dozens of condoms in your drawer?  Used condoms!”

“Oh, those?  I planted them there as a prank.” He was chuckling.

“A prank?” I was incredulous.

“Yup. I saw a box of condoms when I was unpacking.  I opened each packet and filled them with lotion.  At first, I thought your mom would be the first to discover them.  It would’ve been a great and unforgettable icebreaker.  But when you saw them before her...”

“You decided to just keep quiet and let me assume the worst about you?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“That’s so cruel!”

“Cruel?  Why is that?”

I didn’t answer.  I was trapped in a corner.  If I’d reveal how affected I was, he would start to think that I have feelings for him.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him instead.  “And Chelsea Summers?”

“What about her?”

“You didn’t have sex with her or anything?”

He let out a laugh.

“Why’re you laughing?”

“It’s because you’re acting like a jealous girlfriend all of a sudden.  What’s up with that?”

“I’m not acting like anything!  It’s just that Chelsea Summers is a slut!  I’m worried about you and whatever disease she might’ve given you!”

That’s most probably untrue, of course.  I didn’t know much about Chelsea Summers.  For all I know, she’s as virginal as I was.  But I hated her so much and I was too drunk for civility that I just blurted out whatever was in my mind.

“Chelsea is pretty,” he started to explain.  “And she’s nice too.  But we’re not going out.  And we’re not
fuck buddies
either.  And no, I don’t think she’s a slut.”

“And why are you giving me the cold treatment most of the time?”

“I... I have my reasons.”

“What reasons are those?”

“I’d rather keep them to myself.”

“I thought we’d spend this time opening up to get to know each other better.”

“If that’s the case, then I should be asking questions too, right?”

I swallowed some air as I braced for the worst.  I gathered every bit of courage in my body to allow him to continue.

“Shoot,” I finally said.

“Why did you get drunk this evening?” he asked.  His tone changed from affectionately casual to intimidatingly stern.

“Geez, you’re starting to sound like my mom.”

“Just answer my question,” he commanded.

“It’s a party, alright?  It’s the first party I’ve ever attended my entire life.  I just wanted to experience what it’s like.  Just for one night... I just wanted to feel like I belong... like I’m one of them.”

A long silence followed.  He was exhaling heavily.  The warmth of his breath coiled through my neck down to the crevice of my dress.  I felt a skittish tingle emanate from my tummy, pulsating throughout the rest of my body.

“You’re not one of them,” he said.  “You’re... different.”

Oh great!  Now I know he’s like everybody else who thought of me as some kind of weirdo.

“You’re very much different, Betty,” he continued.

Betty.
The second time he recited my name like that.

“You’re...” he paused as if he was unsure whether he should proceed or not.  “You’re one of a kind,” he finally concluded.

His words dazed me.  It was a fuzzy kind of trance, though.  One that hit me right in the heart and melted my entire being.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Before me and my dad moved in, I was in a really bad place.  Sometimes I feel I still am.  But whenever you’re around, I start to believe that I can be someone else completely.  Someone I can be proud of.  Someone better.”

Was I hearing those correctly?  From him?  From my stepbrother?

“Then why do you keep treating me like I don’t exist?”

“Not all the time.”

“Sometimes?”

“It’s because I don’t know how to react to how you make me feel.”

“And how do I make you feel?”

“The same as how I make you feel.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t know.  I’d like to assume it’s something good.  I feel it in the way you shiver whenever I touch you.  The way you breathe whenever I whisper words to your ear.  The way you smile that delightfully uncomfortable smile whenever I tease you.”

He noticed.  All the small things like those... he noticed.  I gave myself away.

“And you laugh at my vulnerabilities?” I asked nervously.

“No,” he answered strongly.  “I adore them.  They make you real.  And the real you is beautiful.”

How was I supposed to react to a man who has poured his heart out the way he did, with words that will resonate in my mind for days and months and years to come?  How was I supposed to react to a kind of honesty that was both brutal and doting?  How was I supposed to react to someone who, in essence, was telling me that he wanted me... just as much as I wanted him?

“This...” I began to say, stuttering and confused and afraid, “this isn’t right...”

“I know.  I’m frightened too.  But if this is wrong, I don’t ever want to be right... ever.”

In the darkness of our seclusion, I tried to look at his eyes.  My sight has adjusted to the absence of light and I could see his handsome face a little clearer that time.  He wasn’t smiling.  He wasn’t frowning.  He didn’t have that scowl which I used to abhor but have grown to cherish.  He was looking at me intently, yearningly... passionately.

He was sincere.

And I believed him.

I don’t know where I got the bravery which I had at that moment... whether it was from the alcohol or from compulsions of my heart, it didn’t really matter.  I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated his genuineness... I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him.

So I drew my face closer to his, tiptoeing a bit to bridge the inches that separated us.  He met me halfway, and his warm lips touched mine.  He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me so tight that I felt that our bodies became one.  His lips began to explore the surface of mine, every millimeter, every rim, every area he could find.

I looked at him once more and saw his eyes closed.  I closed mine as well.

I opened my mouth and his tongue went in, probing inside, looking for my own tongue to spur and to tickle and to feel.  His hand went to my nape and he pushed my head nearer to his.  My arms held his waist and we were locked in an impassioned embrace, one that neither of us wanted to break, that neither of us wanted to end.

But with a sudden clicking sound, it ended.

We both opened our eyes to see that the darkness is gone and lights were on.  The doors were open as well, and outside were people... lots of people, both familiar and unfamiliar... Maggie, Chelsea Summers, Emerson, Colton, Cassandra, and Melinda among others... looking at us with shocked, pale white faces.  One of them had her mobile phone drawn out. 

The same mobile phone that produced the clicking sound.

She took a picture of us kissing.

“Oh my God!” Maggie screamed.  “The shit just hit the fan!”