Crazy Over My Stepdad

Chapter 4

The weekend dragged on, heavy and restless.

I told myself I’d focus on schoolwork, but the words on the page blurred. Every time I tried to read, his face appeared instead—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands moved when he worked, the low rumble of his voice saying things that sounded so normal, but felt anything but.

By Sunday afternoon, I was raw with it. Jittery. Like my skin didn’t fit.

So when the doorbell rang, my heart leapt before my brain caught up.

Mark.

Of course it was him.

Mom hurried to answer the door, smiling like a teenager, while I stayed frozen on the couch. He stepped inside, carrying a small bag of groceries in one arm, casual as anything, like he belonged here already.

“Brought a few things for dinner,” he said. His eyes flicked across the room, landing on me for a heartbeat before shifting back to Mom.

I swallowed, shifting in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the shorts I was wearing, how bare my legs felt under his gaze.

“Thanks, honey,” Mom beamed, taking the bag. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll start on this.”

Which left him. In the living room. With me.

My pulse quickened.

He lowered himself onto the other end of the couch, not close, but close enough that I could smell him—soap, leather, a hint of something masculine and warm. He leaned back, one arm stretched casually along the back of the couch, his body loose but commanding.

“You look tired,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet, directed at me.

I startled. “Oh. Uh… yeah. I didn’t sleep well.”

One brow arched, just slightly. “Too much studying?”

I nodded, forcing a laugh, though the truth pressed hot against my throat. If only you knew.

The silence between us stretched, not awkward but thick, charged. My gaze flicked to his hand resting on the couch—large, veins pronounced, fingers relaxed but powerful. My stomach twisted.

And then Lily came bounding down the stairs, breaking the spell.

“Mark!” she chirped, sliding into the seat beside him, way too close. “What did you bring us?”

I clenched my jaw, looking away.

⸻

Dinner was more of the same. Lily giggling, Mom glowing, Mark calm and steady, saying little but always there. I picked at my food, heat coiling low in my belly every time his gaze brushed over me.

Afterward, Mom insisted on cleaning up the kitchen. Lily disappeared to her room. Which meant, once again, I was left in the living room with him.

I sank into the armchair this time, trying to put distance between us. But he leaned forward on the couch, forearms on his knees, watching the muted news on the TV. The flicker of light shadowed his face, carving it into sharp, dangerous lines.

Without looking at me, he spoke.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

My throat went dry. “Just… tired.”

“Hmm.” A pause. “You always say that.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

Now he looked at me, eyes steady, unreadable. “Last time, you said the same thing. Tired. Couldn’t sleep. You okay?”

The air rushed out of me. Did he know? Could he tell? My pulse thundered as I forced a shrug. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His gaze lingered a moment longer, heavy enough to make me squirm, before he nodded and leaned back again.

But the damage was done. My body buzzed, my mind spiraled.

I wanted him to keep looking at me like that. I wanted him to see through me, even if it ruined me.

⸻

Later, when Mom called him into the kitchen to help, I fled upstairs, my legs shaky, my chest tight. I shut my bedroom door and pressed my back against it, breathing hard.

Every second near him was torture. Every glance, every brush of his voice was gasoline on the fire I couldn’t put out.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to put it out anymore.

I slid to the floor, knees drawn to my chest, heart pounding with a truth I could no longer deny.

I was falling for him.

And if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t just burn—I’d drag him down with me.