My Stepbrother's Temptation

Avery’s heart drummed in her chest as the car rolled to a slow stop at the edge of the driveway. The engine cut off with a quiet sigh, and silence settled in like a heavy fog. She stared at the house in front of her, trying to absorb the fact that this place—this too-perfect, too-big suburban dream home—was supposed to be hers now. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The house stood tall, pristine white with navy shutters, a wraparound porch, and flower beds too well-kept to feel real. A white swing hung from one end of the porch, swaying gently in the breeze, as if someone had been sitting there just moments before. The lawn was spotless, trimmed and green like something out of a catalog. Not a single leaf out of place. It looked perfect. It felt completely wrong. Her father opened his door and stepped out, stretching like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours driving in silence. “Come on, Avery,” he called over the roof of the car. “Let’s get inside. You’ve got to see the kitchen. It’s huge.” She didn’t move right away. She sat there for a few more seconds, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her duffel bag, her eyes still locked on the house. It’s just a house, she told herself. Just a new house. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. This was her dad’s new life. His new wife. His new family. And she was supposed to fit into it somehow. Finally, Avery exhaled and opened the door, stepping out into the warm afternoon sun. The scent of freshly mowed grass hit her as she slung her bag over her shoulder and followed her dad up the wide wooden steps. The front door opened into a wide foyer with polished wood floors that gleamed in the sunlight. A staircase wound up to the second floor, and the walls were painted a calming shade of eggshell, hung with framed prints of places she didn’t recognize—Paris, Rome, some snowy cabin in the woods. She paused in the entryway, taking it all in. It was beautiful. Immaculate. Not a single sign of life out of place. It made her feel like she had to tiptoe, or whisper, like she didn’t quite belong here yet. “This is home,” her dad said, turning to her with a hopeful smile. “Pretty great, huh?” Avery nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s… nice.” Nice wasn’t the word she wanted to use. Nice was polite. Safe. Detached. She wanted to say weird. Or different. Or cold. But she kept it to herself. Her dad looked so proud of the place, so genuinely excited for this new chapter. She didn’t want to be the one to bring it crashing down with her doubts. He led her through the main floor like a tour guide. The living room had floor-to-ceiling windows and a massive sectional couch that looked like it had never been sat on. The kitchen, as promised, was huge—with white cabinets, marble countertops, and a high-tech fridge that could probably talk to you if you asked nicely. Everything was perfectly in place. Too perfect. Her bedroom was upstairs, at the end of the hallway, across from another closed door her dad told her was Max’s room. Max. The stepbrother. Her stomach flipped at the thought of him. She had never met him—only seen a couple of blurry photos on her dad’s phone and heard vague descriptions that did little to paint a real picture. “He’s a good kid,” her dad had said. “Quiet, kind of reserved. But respectful.” He made it sound like Max was some polite exchange student, not the boy she’d be sharing a house with for the foreseeable future. Avery had no idea what to expect. Was he going to hate her? Ignore her? Treat her like some kind of intruder? Her room was nice, at least. Clean, simple, painted a soft blue with a view of the backyard. Her dad had already moved in her boxes, neatly stacked by the closet, like everything had been planned down to the smallest detail. She dropped her duffel on the bed and sat down beside it, her shoulders slumping as the weight of everything hit her all at once. This was happening. This was real. Her dad’s new marriage, the move, the shiny new house, the stepbrother she didn’t know—it was all happening whether she liked it or not. There was a knock on the doorframe. She looked up to see her dad leaning in, a hopeful look on his face. “He should be home around three,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “Max, I mean. I told him you were coming today. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Avery raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Well,” her dad admitted with a chuckle, “he’s not exactly the let’s-bake-cookies-and-do-a-photo-shoot type, but he’s a good kid. He just needs time to warm up to people.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wasn’t the easiest person to get close to, either. And the idea of navigating this new, awkward relationship with someone who might not even want her here made her stomach twist. Still, she forced a smile. “Alright. I’ll try not to scare him off.” Her dad smiled back and gave the doorframe a light knock before stepping away. “Let me know if you want help unpacking.” She nodded, then listened to his footsteps fade down the stairs. When the silence returned, Avery sank back onto the bed, letting herself fall against the pillows. She stared up at the ceiling, tracing the invisible cracks she imagined were there. How was she supposed to start over here? How do you blend into a life that’s already been built without you in it? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what Max would be like. Quiet. Reserved. That’s what her dad said. She pictured a tall, brooding guy who stayed in his room all day playing guitar or writing dark poetry. Maybe he wouldn’t even acknowledge her. Maybe that would be easier. She wasn’t here to make friends. She wasn’t here to cause trouble. She just wanted to survive. Her phone buzzed beside her. A message from her best friend back home lit up the screen: "You good? How’s the palace?" Avery let out a short laugh and typed back: "Big. Quiet. Weird. I’ll survive." She hesitated for a moment, then added: "Haven’t met him yet." She didn’t need to explain who him was. Her best friend knew everything. Pocketing her phone, Avery stood and walked to the window, watching the empty street outside. It was so quiet here. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched, even when no one was around. She bit her lip and leaned against the frame, eyes scanning the road. A black car turned the corner at the end of the street, heading toward the house. Her heart skipped. Three o’clock. Max. Avery took a deep breath and backed away from the window. She wasn’t ready. Not for him. Not for this. But ready or not, her new life was starting. And there was no turning back.