$EX EDUCATION WITH 4 HOT STEPBROTHERS

Chapter 2

ARIA’S POV

The shower water ran clear for a long time. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but the pink seemed to have soaked into a deeper layer. It was in the mirror when I finally stepped out, steam clouding the glass. My reflection was a pale, blurred ghost. My hair, dark and wet, clung to my neck. My eyes looked hollow. The coldness from the walk home hadn’t left. It had just moved inside, settling in my bones like winter.

A fist hammered on the front door.

I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs. I yanked my old, worn robe around me, tying it tight. Bianca? Had she followed me?

“Aria! Open up! It’s me!”

Maya.

The tension bled out of me, leaving me shaky. I padded to the door in bare feet and pulled it open.

She stood there, breathless, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes, usually so sharp and confident, were wide with worry. She took me in—the robe, my damp hair, the red patches on my skin from scrubbing—and her face crumpled. “Oh, god, Aria.”

She didn’t ask. She just stepped inside, kicked the door shut with her heel, and pulled me into a hug so tight it forced the air from my lungs. She smelled like sweat and the outdoors and the floral detergent she always used. I stood stiff for a second, then my arms came up around her. I buried my face in her shoulder.

“They taped my mouth,” she mumbled into my hair, her voice thick. “They held me down and taped my goddamn mouth. I couldn’t even scream for you.”

“I saw,” I whispered. It was all I could manage.

She pulled back, holding me at arm’s length. Her gaze was fierce, burning. “This ends. Today. It ends. No more. You hear me? No more of this shit.”

I just nodded.

She led me to the worn couch, pushing aside a pile of laundry. She sat me down, then knelt in front of me, her hands on my knees. “Look at me. You are not that girl anymore. The one they pushed around. The one they painted pink.” She jabbed a finger toward my chest. “From now on, you are the hottest thing on that campus. You understand? You’re going to be the girl Bianca looks at and seethes because she can’t touch you.”

A weak laugh escaped me. It sounded broken. “How? A makeover montage? This isn’t a movie, Maya.”

“No,” she said, her voice dropping, intense. “It’s better. It’s revenge. And we’re going to plan it like we plan a chem final. But way more fun.” She got up, pacing the small space. “First, we need a target. A visible, public win. Something that screams you’ve moved into a league she can’t even buy a ticket for.”

I knew. The name was already there, sitting in the cold, hard place inside me. “Zane.”

Maya stopped pacing. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “Zane Parker. Basketball captain. Campus god. The boy who pours water on himself and makes every girl in a five-mile radius forget her own name.” She came back and sat beside me, our shoulders touching. “If Zane wants you… if he’s seen wanting you… Bianca’s power over you evaporates. It becomes proof. You’re not a loser. You’re the girl who got the golden boy.”

The logic was flawless. It was a plan. A real one. The coldness inside me warmed a degree, ignited by a new, sharp energy. “Okay,” I said, my voice stronger. “Okay. How?”

Maya jumped up again, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out a notebook and a pen. “We break it down. Step one: the look.” She looked me over, critically but not unkindly. “The glasses go. Contacts. Your hair… it’s pretty, but it’s hiding you. We wear it to frame your face, show off your neck. Clothes.” She scribbled furiously. “No more baggy tees and hoodies. We find things that fit. That hint. Not trashy. Just… confident.”

“I can’t afford—”

“My cousin works at that boutique downtown. Employee discount,” Maya cut in, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about that. Step two: the vibe. You walk into a room, you own it. Shoulders back. Eye contact. You don’t look at the floor anymore. Ever.”

“How do I learn that?” I asked, the old doubt creeping in. “You can’t just write ‘be confident’ on a to-do list.”

Maya chewed on the end of her pen. “You need a teacher. Someone who lives in that space. Someone who doesn’t give a single f**k what anyone thinks.” She looked around my cramped living room as if the answer might be hiding behind the faded curtains. Her gaze drifted toward the window, to the narrow alley between our house and the next. Her eyes narrowed, then widened.

“Oh,” she breathed, a strange new tone in her voice. “Oh, wow.”

“What?”

She pointed. I leaned over to follow her finger. Through the grimy window, across the ten feet of weedy alley, was the back of another house. A much nicer one. The kitchen window was open. And inside, moving around with a lazy, unhurried grace, was Reed.

One of the Steel Boys.

He was shirtless, pouring something from a blender into a glass. The late afternoon sun caught the defined lines of his back, the lean muscles shifting under smooth skin. He took a sip, then leaned against the counter, staring out the window, not seeing us. His face was as relaxed and amused as it had been in the courtyard, but here, alone, it looked more real. More dangerous.

My pulse, which had finally settled, kicked up again. “What about him?”

Maya turned to me, her eyes blazing with the thrill of a new idea. “He’s your teacher. Think about it, Aria. Reed doesn’t care. About anyone. He watched you get humiliated today and he was… entertained. He lives in a world where rules don’t apply. That’s the energy you need. That utter, complete lack of giving a shit.”

“He’s one of them,” I hissed. “They all looked at me like I was a bug.”

“Exactly!” Maya said, grabbing my arm. “He’s not some nice guy you have to be careful with. He’s a challenge. A tool. You don’t have to like him. You have to learn from him. How to move. How to hold a look a second too long. How to make someone feel like they’re the one being watched.” Her grin turned feral. “You want Zane to see you? First, you make a boy like Reed really see you. Not the paint. Not the torn shirt. You.”

The thought sent a shiver through me that wasn’t entirely fear. It was a spark, igniting the cold tinder inside. I looked back out the window. Reed had turned, his gaze drifting absently across the alley. For a split second, it felt like his eyes met mine through the two panes of glass. A jolt, electric and warm, shot straight down my spine. He couldn’t possibly see me here in the dark living room, but my skin heated as if he had.

He took another slow sip from his glass, his throat working. Then he smiled, a small, private curve of his lips, and turned away, disappearing into the depths of the house.

My breath left me in a slow stream. The plan was on paper. It was solid. But the teacher… the teacher was ten feet away, shirtless and smirking, and he had just become Step One.