Living with my forbidden stepbrother

Chapter 6

The sound of the front door closing was like a loud c***k of thunder.

Adrian pulled his hand away from my face so fast that I felt a cold chill where his warm skin had just been. He didn't look at me. He didn't say a word. In one second, he changed. The soft look in his eyes was gone. He looked calm and bored again, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just told me to "feel it."

"Hey, Dad!" Adrian called out toward the hallway. His voice was steady. It didn't shake at all.

I couldn't speak. I stood there, frozen, staring at the floor. My heart was beating so hard that I could feel it in my throat. I felt like a criminal. I felt like the word "guilty" was written in big red letters across my forehead.

"Hey, kids!" Dad walked into the living room, a big smile on his face. He looked tired from work, but happy to see us. He looked at the boxes and then at us. "Wow, you guys have been busy. The room looks great. I told you that you two would make a good team."

I tried to smile, but my face felt stiff. "Yeah. We worked hard."

"I'm glad to hear it," Dad said, patting Adrian on the shoulder. My stomach twisted at the sight. Dad trusted him. Dad trusted me. He had no idea that the moment he walked in, his simple rule had been shattered into a million pieces. "Maya, you look a little pale. Are you okay? Maybe the heat in the house is too much."

"I'm just tired, Dad," I said quickly. "I think I’ll just go to bed."

"Good idea," Dad said. "Big day tomorrow. We have that neighbor's barbecue, and then we need to finish the attic."

I didn't wait for another word. I turned and ran up the stairs. I didn't look back at Adrian. I knew if I did, I would lose my mind. I got into my room and locked the door. I leaned my back against the wood and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Buttons jumped onto the bed and meowed at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I whispered. I felt like even the cat knew I was doing something wrong.

I lay down on my bed, but my mind wouldn't stop. I kept thinking about his fingers on my face. I kept thinking about the way he said "us." There was no "us." There couldn't be. He was my stepbrother. This house was supposed to be a fresh start, not a disaster.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. My heart skipped a beat.

Adrian: You’re hiding.

I stared at the screen. I wanted to throw the phone across the room. I wanted to delete his number. But I didn't. My fingers moved before I could stop them.

Me: I have to hide. My dad is right downstairs.

Adrian: He’s not in your room, Maya. And he’s not in your head. I am.

I turned off the screen and threw the phone under my pillow. He was right. He was in my head. He was everywhere.

The next morning was even worse. I woke up hoping that the night before had been a dream. I hoped that I could just go back to being the girl who moved into a new house. But when I walked into the kitchen, the tension was waiting for me.

Adrian was sitting at the table, drinking coffee. Dad’s wife was busy making breakfast. She was humming a song, looking perfectly happy.

"Good morning, Maya!" she said with a bright smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," I lied.

I sat down across from Adrian. He didn't say anything. He just pushed a plate of eggs toward me. His hand stayed on the edge of the plate for a second too long. Our fingers didn't touch, but I could feel the heat.

"So," Dad said, walking in and grabbing a piece of toast. "Adrian, I need you to help Maya with the attic today. It’s mostly old clothes and books. Should be easy."

"No problem," Adrian said. He finally looked at me. His eyes were dark and full of secrets. "I’ll make sure she stays focused."

Dad laughed. "Good luck with that. She’s a bit of a daydreamer."

I felt a sting of tears in my eyes. Dad was so kind. He was so happy. And here I was, looking at Adrian and thinking about things that were forbidden.

After breakfast, we went up to the attic. It was a small, dusty space at the top of the house. It was hot and cramped. There was barely enough room for both of us to stand up.

"This is a lot of stuff," I said, trying to keep my voice normal.

"We should start with the boxes in the corner," Adrian said. He moved closer to me to reach for a heavy bin.

"I can do it," I said, reaching for it at the same time.

Our hands collided. This time, it wasn't an accident. I tried to pull away, but he caught my wrist. His grip was firm but gentle.

"Stop running, Maya," he said. His voice was low and serious.

"Adrian, let go. Someone will hear us."

"The door is closed. They’re downstairs." He stepped closer, forcing me back against a stack of old suitcases. "Why are you so afraid of what you feel?"

"Because it’s wrong!" I whispered. My eyes searched his, looking for an answer. "You’re my stepbrother. My dad loves your mom. This isn't a game."

"I’m not playing a game," he said. He let go of my wrist and moved his hand to the wall next to my head. He leaned in so close that I could smell the coffee on his breath. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I like feeling this way about the girl who just moved into my house?"

"Then stop," I said. "Just stop."

"I can't," he whispered. "And you can't either."

He was so close that if I moved an inch, our lips would touch. My heart was thumping against my ribs. I wanted to push him away, but my hands were stuck at my sides. I wanted him to stay right there forever.

"Maya? Adrian?" Dad’s voice called from the bottom of the attic stairs. "How’s it going up there?"

Adrian pulled back instantly. He grabbed a box and started moving it. "Almost done with the first row, Dad!"

"Great! Come down in ten minutes. The neighbors are here for the barbecue!"

Adrian looked at me one last time. He didn't smile. He just looked at me with a look that said this isn't over.

He walked down the stairs, leaving me alone in the dusty attic. I sat down on one of the old suitcases and put my head in my hands.

The barbecue was a nightmare. I had to sit outside in the sun and watch Adrian talk to the neighbors. I had to watch him smile at a girl from next door who was clearly interested in him. I felt a hot flash of jealousy that I couldn't control.

I hated that I cared. I hated that I was watching him.

Every time our eyes met across the yard, the air felt thick. It was like we were the only two people there, even though the yard was full of people. It was a secret language that only we spoke.

By the time the sun went down, I was exhausted. I went back inside the house, hoping to find some peace. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and the lights were off.

I felt a presence behind me before I heard him.

"Long day," he said from the shadows.

"Go away, Adrian."

"You don't mean that." He moved into the light. He looked tired, too. "The way you looked at me today... you weren't thinking about the rules."

"I was thinking about how much I hate this," I said, my voice shaking.

"No," he said, stepping closer. "You were thinking about us. And you were thinking about what happens next."

He reached out and took the glass from my hand, setting it on the counter. He took my hand and led me toward the back door.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere we can talk," he said. "Without the thin walls."

I knew I should say no. I knew I should go back to my room and lock the door. But as he led me out into the dark night, I realized I was already too far gone.