My Arrogant Stepbrother

7: The Party

By the end of the week, Brookwood buzzed with one word: party.

Apparently, it was tradition. The first big house party of the semester was hosted by none other than Jason Cole. Of course. The school’s golden boy had to keep his crown polished somehow.

I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. I wasn’t planning on going—I wasn’t the type to dance in crowded living rooms or sip from red cups while music shook the walls. But when half my class asked if I’d be there, the pressure became impossible to ignore.

“Come on, Olivia, everyone’s going,” said Maya, the only girl who’d been brave enough to sit with me in the cafeteria. “If you don’t show up, people will think you’re stuck-up.”

I almost laughed at that. Me? Stuck-up? I was the one eating alone while Jason basked in the spotlight. Still, Maya was right. If I kept avoiding things, I’d never belong here.

So that’s how I found myself in front of my mirror Saturday night, tugging self-consciously at a simple black dress Mom had bought me for “special occasions.” It wasn’t flashy, but it hugged my figure in a way that made me pause. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t completely disappear in the crowd.

⸻

Jason’s house looked like something out of a movie. Lights glowed from every window, music thumped from inside, and cars lined the driveway and the street. By the time Maya and I walked through the front door, the place was already packed.

I spotted Jason instantly. Of course I did. He stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people who seemed magnetically drawn to him. A drink in hand, a lazy grin on his face, he looked every inch the untouchable king.

But then his eyes found mine.

For a heartbeat, his grin faltered. He gave me a slow once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make heat rise in my cheeks. Then the smirk slid back into place. He tipped his glass in my direction, like he was toasting me from across the room.

“Wow,” Maya whispered. “Your stepbrother is… intimidating.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I muttered, dragging her toward the kitchen.

But the night didn’t let me hide for long.

⸻

It started when Chelsea—the blonde girl practically glued to Jason at school—cornered me near the drink table. Her eyes swept over me like I was something she’d scrape off her shoe.

“Cute dress,” she said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Did you borrow it from your mom?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But Chelsea wasn’t finished.

“You know,” she continued, leaning closer, “Jason might be forced to tolerate you at home, but here? You’re just the charity case everyone’s laughing at.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Chelsea.”

Jason’s tone was sharp enough to slice glass. He stepped into the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have better things to do than harass my sister?”

The word sister came out clipped, almost forced, but it was enough to silence Chelsea. She flushed, shot me one last glare, and stormed off.

I stared at Jason, stunned. “Did you just… defend me?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, Princess. I just don’t like people stealing my fun.”

Before I could answer, someone called his name from the living room, and he disappeared back into the crowd.

⸻

The rest of the night blurred by in flashes of music and laughter, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment in the kitchen. Jason had defended me—again. And this time, it hadn’t been about showing off or putting someone in their place.

It had been about me.

And for reasons I didn’t want to admit, that thought lingered long after the music stopped.