My Stepbrother Was My Revenge One-Night Stand

"Come on, Summer. We've been together for three years, and you still tense up every time we kiss. And in bed, it's like you're not even there. There's just no spark." My boyfriend, Tyler, leaned back against the KTV sofa, flicking ash from his cigarette. His tone was casual, laced with irritation. "I date for fun, and you're just boring. Let's break up." A wave of laughter erupted from his friends around the room. I stood there, clutching my purse tightly, enveloped by the stale stench of alcohol and smoke. Strangely, hearing those words didn't break my heart. Instead, a wave of profound nausea hit me. I wanted to throw up. For three years, I had followed him around like a loyal puppy. No matter how poorly he treated me, I never snapped. My best friend always called me a simp. But this time, the humiliation crossed a line. I turned to leave. Tyler stood up, stubbed out his cigarette, and blocked my path, grabbing my chin. "Wow. Dumped, and you're still this cold?" His once-familiar face looked twisted under the flickering neon lights. I pulled away instinctively. He pinned me against the door instead, locking me in place. "Come on," he leaned in close, his breath smelling heavily of alcohol. "Moan a little for me, and maybe I won't dump you." His tone was humiliatingly charitable. The entire room was watching. Swallowing the disgust rising in my throat, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. "Tyler, we're done. Stop disgusting me!" Seeing a reaction from me at last, he wiped the corner of his mouth and smirked. "Oh? So you do have some spark. Maybe with a little training..." Before he could finish, the door was kicked open. My best friend, Tanya, having received my SOS text, stood at the entrance, her expression dark. "Let her go." Tyler scoffed. "Tanya, this is none of your—" Tanya stepped forward and slapped the other side of his face before he could finish. "You think you're qualified to touch her?" She pulled me behind her, raising her voice so the whole room could hear. "You last all of three minutes and can't even find a girl's sweet spot, and you're blaming her for being stiff? Tyler, you want me to broadcast your little performance issues to the whole campus?" Tyler's face flushed a deep crimson. "You're full of s**t!" Tanya didn't waste another second. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me out. "Whether it's s**t or not, you know the truth. Staying near this trash for one more second makes my eyes feel dirty." Once outside the bar, the reality hit me, and my eyes stung. The disgust lingered. Three years of devotion, ending in such a pathetic circus. Tanya hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the hottest club downtown. "Don't cry. Getting rid of him is a blessing," she said, patting the back of my hand. "A guy like Tyler doesn't have the stamina to satisfy anyone anyway. Come on, I'm taking you to see what a real man looks like." I leaned against the window without saying a word. The drinks I'd had earlier were starting to hit, and a reckless impulse slowly pushed aside my usual restraint. Stiff? Boring? I can fix that. When the cab pulled up, Tanya grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd. The thumping bass vibrated through the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of liquor. She smoothly walked up to the bar, snapped her fingers for two cocktails, and pushed one toward me. "Stop looking so miserable. Have fun tonight. If you see someone you like, just go for it." The liquid burned down my throat, lighting a fire in my stomach. Tanya pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. Within ten minutes, four tall, athletic guys walked over, all sporting an effortless sporty style. "Hey, Tanya!" they greeted in unison. Tanya tilted her chin, smiling at me. "Take your pick. Sports academy juniors. Clean slates." I stared at the lineup, my head spinning from the alcohol. My vision blurred, but my eyes locked onto the fourth guy. Black T-shirt, pale skin, a sharp jawline, and broad shoulders that filled out his shirt perfectly. In a rush of liquid courage, I pointed directly at him. "Him."