My Arrogant Stepbrother

5: The Unwanted Protector

By Monday morning, the story of my “royal performance” had made its rounds through every hallway of Brookwood Academy. Some kids gave me subtle smiles when I passed, others whispered behind their hands, and a few even offered quiet compliments—like I had done something heroic by standing up to Jason.

But Jason himself? He was silent.

No mocking comments. No smirks in the cafeteria. Not even a single “Princess” thrown my way.

It should have felt like a victory. Instead, it felt like the calm before a storm.

⸻

That storm arrived two days later.

I was walking out of English class when Trent Morgan, one of Jason’s so-called friends, blocked the doorway. He was tall, broad, with a lazy grin that made my stomach twist.

“Well, if it isn’t the princess,” Trent drawled, echoing Jason’s nickname for me. Only this time, it sounded crueler, sharper.

I tried to sidestep him, but he shifted in front of me, his grin widening. “I heard you’ve got a smart mouth. Wanna show me how it works?”

A few kids snickered behind him. My chest tightened.

“Move,” I said firmly, clutching my books to my chest.

Trent leaned closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “Or what? You’ll curtsy me into submission?”

Laughter erupted from the crowd. My face burned, and panic clawed at my throat. This wasn’t harmless teasing—this was different.

Then, suddenly, Trent was shoved back—hard. His shoulder slammed into the doorframe, and the laughter died instantly.

Jason stood between us, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

“Touch her again,” Jason said, his voice low and lethal, “and you’ll regret it.”

The entire hallway went silent.

Trent straightened, clearly stunned. “Relax, man. I was just joking—”

Jason grabbed him by the collar, shoving him back another step. “Does it look like I’m laughing?”

Trent’s smirk vanished, replaced by something closer to fear. He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the crowd, his entourage scattering with him.

Jason turned to me then, his hazel eyes still burning. “You okay?”

I blinked at him, stunned. This was the same Jason who had humiliated me days ago, the same Jason who called me “Princess” like it was an insult. And yet here he was—defending me like I mattered.

“I—uh—” I stammered, still catching my breath. “I didn’t need your help.”

Jason arched a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Really? Because it looked like you did.”

I straightened my shoulders, heat rising in my cheeks. “I can handle myself.”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze softer than I’d ever seen it. Then the smirk slid back into place like a mask. “Sure you can, Princess. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving me speechless in the middle of the hallway.

⸻

At dinner that night, I couldn’t stop glancing at him across the table. He didn’t say anything to me, didn’t even look my way. But his presence felt heavier somehow, more complicated.

Part of me wanted to thank him. Another part wanted to scream at him for confusing me.

Jason Cole was supposed to be my enemy—arrogant, insufferable, untouchable.

So why did my heart race every time I thought about the way he’d stepped in for me today?

And why, for the first time, did I wonder if there was more to my arrogant stepbrother than the smirk he wore like armor?