Stepbrother Mine : A Forbidden Romance

“It’s been one month, Isa. You can’t still be moping about this,” Christine, my best friend for all intents and purposes, said. I ignored her and continued moping in my bed. “You have to go out sometime.” “I go out.” “For class. In an ugly, oversized hoodie and a mask.” “You said that hoodie was cute.” “Yes. Like a decade ago. The only thing that hoodie needs now is a dumpster.” I turned away from her. She didn’t understand. She was pretty and perfect, and everyone loved her. She didn’t understand what it meant to be a geeky loser that no one wanted to be seen with. She didn’t understand the total humiliation I had gone through on this campus. Everyone knew who I was for all the wrong reasons. I could never show my face in public again. One month? Even ten years wouldn’t be enough to escape the jeers. The videos from that incident still popped up all over my social media feed. That’s why I deleted all my apps and made others private. “I’m not going out. I don’t need anyone to call me Projectile Vomit Betty.” “No one is going to call you Projectile Vomit Betty,” she said. I turned and glared at her. “I mean, if anyone calls you that, I’ll take care of them.” “I don’t understand. My name isn’t even Betty,” I cried. Christine hummed. She picked up my phone and looked at it. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” “It’s been on silent since that night. Don’t judge me, okay?” “I’m not judging you. This is just to inform you that you have a bunch of missed calls from your mom. By a bunch, I mean like 23 and a good number of texts too.” “Why would Mom be calling…?” I froze. Oh s**t. Oh crap. How had I forgotten? I was supposed to have lunch with her today! I jumped out of my messy bed and tripped. I scrambled from the floor and snatched the phone out of my friend’s hand. “Oh no. Oh no.” I rapidly went through the frantic messages and missed calls. Just then, the phone lit up with an incoming call. I answered on the first ring. “Isabella Anabelle Bennet. What is the meaning of this?” I knew that voice. It was the voice she used when she was trying not to scream her head off in a public setting. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” I said flippantly. “Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago. Did you forget?” she said. Her voice was strained. “Me? Forget? No way. I, uh… I had to finish an assignment and lost track of time. Don’t worry, I’m already on my way.” “You better get here quick. This is such an important moment for me.” “Yeah, I know Mom. I’m sorry; this was not my intention at all.” I cut the call before she could say anything else that could send guilt shooting through me. Christine was giving me a disappointed look. “Like I said, you can’t keep moping around. You’re letting this incident run your life. Don’t get back into bed and take a shower, damn.” With that, she stepped out of my messy dorm. “I already showered!” I said to her back. I did shower; I just couldn’t remember when exactly that was. It couldn’t have been more than two days ago. I scrambled around looking for an outfit. Where were we supposed to meet again? I looked through my meagre closet and wanted to wail in frustration when I found little to no clean clothes. When was the last time I did my laundry? This was just shameful. Christine was right; I needed to get my head out of my butt and start taking care of myself again. I picked up a hoodie and sniffed it. It smelled clean enough. I also put on a pair of leggings and threw my feet into my beat-up sneakers. I ran a brush through my black hair and looked at myself in the mirror. There, that didn’t look too bad. I looked casual and unkempt but in a chic, stressed college student sort of way. I forced the lie down my throat and called a cab. There was no way I was taking a bus unless I wanted to be at least two hours late. I would have to dig my own grave at that point. My mom had set up this lunch date a few weeks ago. We usually met up every other weekend for coffee and lunch, but this one was different. She wanted me to meet the mysterious man she had been dating. For as long as I can remember, it had only been my mother and I. My dad died when I was a year old, so I never got a chance to know him. I only knew him through pictures and stories from other people. She said he was a friendly, carefree man who was loved by everyone he met. I didn’t know him personally, but from the stories she told me, I wish I had. Throughout my life, she never dated anyone, despite my encouraging her to do so. She said my father was the love of her life and she couldn’t see herself with anyone else. I had worried about her when I left for college. She had given me everything and the thought of her being all alone in our tiny house made me sad. When she said she met a nice man at work, I’d been more than ecstatic. Now, it was finally time to meet him. She had been seeing him for close to a year but I’d only gotten glimpses of him here and there. She said she wanted to be sure before introducing him to me. I guess she was finally sure now. I cursed at myself again for forgetting such an important event. I knew she was nervous to introduce us and I’d made it worse by being late. I’d told the driver the address for the restaurant without thinking about it, but now that it loomed into view, I couldn’t help but gasp. Mom and I usually had lunch at tiny cafes in the city. This? This was the furthest thing from a cosy café. The cab came to a stop at a high-rise building that looked straight out of an architectural magazine. I paid for the cab and stepped out of the car. I approached the entrance and was met by a doorman. Were doormen still a thing? “I’m looking for the restaurant. It’s called Sauvage,” I said, unsure if I was pronouncing it right. The doorman nodded and directed me where I should go. I looked around the interior space and immediately felt underdressed. I did not frequent places that looked like this. My mom did not either. What was going on? Did she want to surprise me for the special occasion? Ignoring the looks I was getting, I found the restaurant where I was stopped by a hostess. She looked at me from top to bottom with a look I knew too well. She was judging me and found me wanting. I tried not to shift nervously and instead looked unaffected. “Do you have a reservation, miss?” Her words were said in a haughty tone as she looked down her nose at me. “Um, yeah. I’m here under Montgomery,” I replied. I said it more like a question. She raised her perfect eyebrows at me. She reassessed me, and her demeanour slightly warmed. “Right this way, ma'am.” Did it mean something that I had gone from a 'miss' to a ‘ma’am’? As she let me through the restaurant, I realised I was most definitely not dressed for the occasion. I was the most underdressed person in the whole room. Even the servers and staff wore simple but formal attire. It was too late to go and change now. Why did my mom not tell me I had to come dressed like a Hollywood starlet on a red carpet? Then I remembered my mother’s ‘remember to dress nicely’ in her slew of texts. The texts I hadn’t read until after she called me. In my defence, I thought that meant she wanted me to wear my hair down. All our lunches before had always been very casual. Heck, I had shown up to one in my pyjamas. My mother and I were the furthest thing from rich. We weren’t poor, but we still had our struggles. Growing up, it was a struggle some days for us to have three square meals. Having fancy new clothes was out of the question. I had planned on wearing a nice dress but then I discovered all my clothes were dirty and needed washing. The hostess led me to a table with fancy settings. Sitting at the table was my mother and an older, distinguished-looking man. I’m guessing that was her boyfriend. He was a very attractive older man. He had salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. He was the type of man Christine would have gone gaga over. My mother stood up and came to hug me. She didn’t comment on my attire and simply looked happy that I was there. “My Bella, you’re here,” she said. I squeezed her hard and said quietly, “Of course I’m here. I’m sorry that I look like a mess.” She ran her hands through my hair and smiled. “It is okay. I know how busy you get with school. As long as you made it.” I felt guilty about letting her think I came here looking homeless because I was so swamped with so much work. I was also thankful deep down that I didn’t have to confess that I was spiralling mentally. She pulled back and pulled me to the table. “Isabella, I want you to meet Arthur. Arthur, this is my daughter, Bella.” Arthur smiled. He held out his hand for a shake and I took it. To my surprise, he raised my hand and kissed the knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Isabella. Your mother has spoken so much about you that I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime.” My mother gave an embarrassed giggle. “Oh, Arthur. You’re embarrassing me.” I felt like I was in a different dimension. My mother? Giggling? At a man? What in the world…? I looked through the menu and tried not to let my eyes fall out of my sockets when I saw the prices. Noticing my discomfort, Arthur assured me lunch was on him. Thank God for that because I wasn’t about to spend my monthly allowance on bottled tap water, which looked like the only thing I could afford on the menu. Arthur seemed like a very nice man. He didn’t laugh a whole lot, but he listened intently when my mom talked and also added his own opinions to things. I watched them interact and spoke and laughed where I was supposed to. I excused myself to the bathroom. Damn, even the toilets here looked like they were in a different class. I freshened myself up and left. Maybe I should have stopped by a clothing store earlier and- Slam! I fell back on my ass. I looked up at the wall I had bumped into and froze. No way. “What are you doing here?” I exclaimed. Shock didn’t begin to cover what I was feeling. He was a wall alright—a six-foot wall of pure muscle and s*x appeal. He had piercing stormy grey eyes, dark hair, and a face that looked as if God had taken personal time to sculpt it himself. The wall in question looked at me like trash beneath his shoe. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He gave me a disgusted look from top to bottom. “Did you sneak your way in here? It seems you have a bad habit of showing up in places where you’re not welcome.” I got up from the floor and dusted myself off, though looking at this place, it was clear the only dusty thing was me. His words filled me with hot shame. Then I got angry at myself for letting him make me feel small and pathetic yet again. I can’t believe I was unlucky enough to meet him here of all places. And of course, it happened when I looked like I was ready to beg in the streets. I must have done something truly terrible in a previous life to deserve something like this. I was about to retort when my mother interrupted us. “Ah. I see you’ve met,” she said. I gave her a questioning look. “What are you talking about?” “Oh? Didn’t I tell you? Arthur has a son. Isabella, meet Weston, your new stepbrother.”