Brothers

CHAPTER 1

You would think I’d have outgrown my habit of storming into places like I own them, but no, life has a funny way of making you revert to old habits. That’s exactly what I did as I slammed through the front door, rainwater dripping off my soaked clothes and leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me. The storm outside had been bad enough to make me contemplate curling up in a ditch rather than dealing with this, but somehow, I’d thought being inside would be better.

I was wrong.

The sight of him hit me like a slap to the face. There he was. The same smug, entitled jerk I thought I had left behind in high school, now lounging on my couch—no, scratch that, his couch. His stupidly long legs were stretched out, his feet propped up on the coffee table like he didn’t have a care in the world. And the audacity of it? He was sipping a steaming mug of something while I stood there looking like a drowned rat.

“Seriously?!” I snapped, throwing my drenched bag onto the floor. A satisfying splat echoed in the room. “You were supposed to pick me up!”

My voice bounced off the walls, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he calmly turned his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk that made my blood boil.

“Oh,” he said, his tone so casual I wanted to throw something. “You’re here.”

I stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You’re here?” I parroted, my voice climbing an octave. “I was standing in the rain for an hour, waiting for you! You said you would come get me!”

He set his mug down with the kind of exaggerated slowness that only someone with a death wish would dare. “I didn’t say when I would come get you,” he replied, stretching his arms behind his head like this was the most logical excuse in the world.

If steam could physically pour out of someone’s ears, I would have looked like a malfunctioning cartoon character. My hands clenched into fists as I glared at him, my mind racing with every colorful insult I could throw his way. The nerve of him! But then again, why was I even surprised? He was the same guy who used to knock my books out of my hands in the hallway, the same guy who spread that rumor about me in sophomore year. And now he was here, in my house—okay, technically his dad’s house, which made it his house, but that wasn’t the point.

“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, shaking my head as I kicked off my soaked shoes, sending water droplets flying.

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning forward to grab the remote.

“For what?” I hissed, still fuming.

“For not leaving you out there all night,” he replied, flashing me a grin that made me want to launch the nearest decorative pillow at his head. “Could’ve been worse, you know. Could’ve locked the door.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that comes out when you’re so angry you can’t even find words. “Wow. Thanks, Nathan. You’re a real hero,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly relaxed. “Glad you noticed.”

I wanted to scream but instead, I stalked past him, heading toward the stairs to my room. My clothes were clinging to me, and the cold was finally sinking into my bones, but I wasn’t about to let him see me shiver. Not after this.

“Oh, and Mia?” he called after me, his voice taking on that irritatingly teasing tone he used to use when he was about to say something that would ruin my day.

“What?” I snapped, whirling around to glare at him.

“You’ve got a little something—” He pointed to his face, mimicking a smear across his cheek. “Right there.”

I swiped at my face, mortified to find a streak of mascara running down my cheek. Of course, I looked like a raccoon. Of course, he noticed. And of course, he had to point it out.

I didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, I turned back around and marched up the stairs, my wet clothes making an embarrassing squelching sound with every step. Once I reached my room, I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

This was going to be a nightmare.

I hadn’t even been here for up to a week, and he was already driving me insane. I had known moving in with my mom and her new husband would be an adjustment, but no one had warned me that adjustment would come with Nathan. Nathan, who apparently now had the title of “stepbrother.” Nathan, who clearly thought that title gave him free rein to make my life miserable all over again.

I peeled off my wet clothes, tossing them into a heap on the floor before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself. As I stood there, shivering and trying to process the disaster that was my life, one thought kept running through my mind:

How the hell was I supposed to survive living under the same roof as him?