My Arrogant Stepbrother

11: The Dance

Brookwood Academy lived for events. Football games, pep rallies, charity galas—you name it. But the annual Fall Dance was one of the biggest.

Normally, I wouldn’t have cared. Dances weren’t my thing. Dresses, music, crowded gyms—it all felt like something out of a cliché movie. But this time, it was different.

Because ever since Jason sat with me in the cafeteria, the whispers hadn’t stopped.

“She’s definitely more than his stepsister.”

“Did you see the way he looked at her?”

“I bet they’ll show up together at the dance.”

The rumors had snowballed into something neither of us could control, and now all eyes were on us.

Maya had begged me to go with her. “If you skip it, they’ll just assume the worst,” she said, tugging at my arm. “At least if you’re there, you can control the story.”

Easy for her to say. She didn’t have Jason Cole complicating her life.

⸻

The night of the dance, I stood in front of the mirror, tugging nervously at the soft blue dress Mom had insisted I wear. It wasn’t flashy, but it flowed beautifully, the fabric catching the light like water. For a moment, I almost felt… pretty.

But then I thought of Jason, and my stomach flipped.

I wasn’t going with him. Of course not. But would he even acknowledge me there? After everything that had happened, I couldn’t predict him anymore.

⸻

The gym was unrecognizable. Strings of lights draped across the ceiling, the floor glimmering with polished shine, music pulsing through the air. Students danced, laughed, and posed for pictures like they were living in a movie.

I spotted Jason almost immediately. He was impossible to miss—standing near the stage with his friends, dressed in a sharp black suit that made him look even more untouchable than usual. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly tousled, and yet he looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

And then, as if sensing me, his eyes found mine.

My breath caught. He didn’t smirk, didn’t mock. He just… looked. Like he was trying to read me from across the room.

I turned away quickly, my cheeks burning, and dragged Maya to the refreshment table.

⸻

Half an hour later, the DJ announced a slow dance. Couples began pairing off, the lights dimming, the music shifting to something soft and melodic.

I tried to retreat to the sidelines, but before I could, a familiar hand caught my wrist.

Jason.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I froze, staring at him. “Are you insane? Everyone’s watching.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “Exactly.”

Before I could protest, he pulled me onto the floor. My heart pounded as his hand settled at my waist, his other holding mine. The closeness was overwhelming—his warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The world seemed to fade, leaving only us.

“You’re playing with fire,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Jason’s eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”

For a moment, the music, the whispers, the entire crowd melted away. It was just me and him, caught in something neither of us should want—but both of us couldn’t deny.

I knew this was dangerous. I knew we were crossing lines that could never be uncrossed.

But as Jason pulled me closer, his breath brushing against my ear, I realized something terrifying.

Part of me didn’t want to stop.