My Arrogant Stepbrother

9:Lines We Shouldn’t Cross

The rumors didn’t fade. If anything, Jason’s public defense of me only poured gasoline on the fire.

By Wednesday, it wasn’t whispers anymore—it was full-blown speculation. In the locker room, girls giggled about how “the Cole step-siblings were too close.” In class, boys elbowed each other and asked if Jason was “sharing his new toy.”

Each time I heard it, anger coiled in my chest. But beneath the anger was something worse: fear. Because what if they were seeing something I didn’t want to admit?

⸻

That evening, I was in my room, pretending to study, when a knock at the door startled me.

“Princess,” Jason’s voice came through, muffled but unmistakable.

I rolled my eyes, though my pulse quickened. “What do you want?”

The door creaked open without my permission. Typical Jason. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, looking maddeningly casual.

“You’re not eating,” he said, nodding toward the untouched plate Mom had left for me earlier.

“I’m not hungry,” I muttered, focusing on my notebook.

Jason stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re letting them get to you.”

I bristled. “Wow, brilliant observation. Did you figure that out all by yourself?”

He ignored the bite in my tone, moving closer. “You can’t let their rumors control you. That’s what they want.”

I set my pen down, finally glaring at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re Jason Cole—the king of Brookwood. Nobody questions you. But me? I’m just the outsider who got stuck with you as a stepbrother.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but his voice stayed steady. “You think it’s easy for me? That I don’t hear the whispers too?”

I blinked, thrown off. “You… care what they say?”

Jason gave a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, he looked… vulnerable. “I don’t care what they say about me. But when it’s about you? Yeah, I care.”

The air between us shifted, heavy with words unsaid. I swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was standing.

“Jason…” I whispered, my voice betraying the swirl of emotions inside me.

His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unrelenting. “You don’t get it, do you, Olivia? I can’t stand seeing them tear you down. I’d rather they hate me than drag you through it.”

My heart thudded in my chest. This was dangerous—every instinct screamed it. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.

He took a slow step closer, and I felt the heat radiating off him. My breath caught.

“This is wrong,” I said softly, almost pleading with myself more than him.

Jason’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, but his eyes told a different story—conflicted, torn. “Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like the walls around us were closing in. My pulse raced, my thoughts scattered.

Then Jason exhaled sharply and stepped back, breaking the spell. “Get some sleep, Princess,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.

And before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with the echo of his presence—and the terrifying truth that the line between us was blurring fast.