Bad Boy - A Stepbrother Romance (42 page)

I have no idea what to wear. I know it sounds so goddamn trivial, but looking at my closet, I realize I managed to pack the strangest clothes when I left in such a hurry. What the hell do people wear to a farmer’s market, anyway? I’ve never been to one.

Finally, I decide on a longer pretty dress that covers up my jutting bones. I jump in the shower really quick in the guest bathroom. I try really hard, but my mind still wanders...

Adam without a shirt on should be against the law. I had to pick my jaw up from the floor when I walked into the kitchen. But the way he made me eat was sneaky, and he might think I’m not on to him, but I know exactly what he’s doing.

He’s trying to make me better, just like everyone else. If only he knew how damaged I really am.

As I rub myself with a loofah, my mind wanders to my stepbrother’s thick biceps, covered in rich black ink. How he still has a six-pack is beyond me - he eats like a freaking horse.

I finish getting ready, putting my hair in a retro ponytail to go with the powder blue polka dot dress. Finally, I walk out to the street and lean against a lamppost, waiting for Adam.

My eyes float towards the entrance of the house a moment later, like a spotlight is guiding me. There he is - jeans, V-neck tee and a leather jacket to boot. He pushes a pair of mirrored sunglasses down and I nearly lose it.

Fuck. Me.

Adam Parker is dangerous for my blood pressure. I feel my heart beating in my throat.

This has to stop. It’s too dangerous a territory, and I’m not about to risk my sanity for a man who is my stepbrother. I clear my throat as he approaches me, toying with his keys.

“Ready to go, Cinderella?” he asks me with a wide grin.

My eyes follow his gaze to my feet, which are enclosed in pretty sparkly sandals.

“You’re completely overdressed, by the way,” he tells me with a wide grin and I stick my tongue out.

“Not the boss of me,” I tell him defiantly and he grins, walking over to a bike. I cross my eyes in front of my body, glaring at him as he throws me a helmet. Still, instinct takes over and I catch it midair.

“I’m not riding a bike!” I object in horror, but Adam’s already sitting on it, revving up the engine.

“Come on, baby doll,” he tells me over the noise. “Not gonna wait all day.”

I’m already angry and we haven’t even left yet, but I swallow my pride and stomp to the bike, a hard task in my already uncomfortable shoes. I sit behind Adam awkwardly, grabbing his waist lightly with my fingers.

He’s like warm metal under my fingers, thick and strong, but radiating heat. Shit, this is going to be an intense ride, and I have to keep my feelings under control.

“There we go, princess,” Adam growls and I feel the hairs on the back of my arm stand to attention with the primal sound of his voice.

And with a lot of noise and smoke, we’re off.

***

The ride isn’t long, and I watch our surroundings changing with interest. Adam lives in the suburbs, but after a short drive, the small houses turn into fields. Finally, we arrive at our destination, leaving the bike in a parking lot and strolling towards the busy market.

Adam doesn’t say anything, but I’m already regretting my choice of outfit and footwear. But how the hell was I supposed to know this wouldn’t be appropriate? I have next to no experience with this stuff. I’m used to city life, not farmer’s markets.

We walk without saying much and I drink in the sights around us. It’s a whole different world and I’m busy taking it all in when something feathery brushes my leg.

I scream at the top of my voice, almost climbing up Adam’s leg. The bastard starts cracking up and I smack him, trying to catch my breath as I look at my feet. A confused and startled chicken returns my gaze and Adam almost loses it while I flail with embarrassment.

“You prick,” I hiss at him. “I could have died!”

“Yes,” he nods seriously. “That chicken has a warrant out for its arrest. It’s a dangerous criminal. Did you see the size of its gun?”

I nudge him sideways, but can’t help the smile that’s made its way onto my face. “So what are we doing here, anyway?” I grumble, not liking this one bit.

“We’re getting produce,” Adam explains, walking over to one of the stands and picking up a ripe, juicy apple. He throws it in the air and bites into it with a crunch. My eyes go to the vendor, who is watching my stepbrother intently.

“Delicious,” Adam declares, and the vendor beams with price. It makes me strangely happy when Adam presses a bank note in his hands before we walk on by.

As we walk, Adam points out this and that, teaching me about the things we see on our way. I had no idea some of these fruits and vegetables even existed, and my eyes widen with each new explanation Adam gives me.

“What’s that?” I keep asking over and over again, pointing to various shapes. The aroma of ripe fruit is heavy and pungent in the air, and I’m growing to like it. It’s so rich I can almost taste the juice-laden fruit on my tongue.

Finally, we stop in front of a big crowd and I give Adam a questioning look. “What now?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed, but truth is, this is actually kind of fun.

“The best part of your day,” Adam tells me with a mysterious smile and I drink him in with my eyes as he makes way for us in the crowd, pulling me alongside gently until we’re right at the front.

I can’t quite look at what’s happening yet. Instead, my eyes sneak peeks at Adam. I have to fight this attraction hard. I know I should resist, know this has bad news written all over it...

But Adam is special. He always has been.

I shake my head, finally making myself look at the scene in front of me. There’s a long line of people waiting for a man who is dropping thick drops of dough into a huge frying pan. I think he’s making some kind of fried pastry, and the smell is making my mouth water.

“What are those?” I ask Adam curiously, my eyes glued to the divine-smelling pastry in the hot oil. I lick my lips subconsciously and only realize I’m practically salivating when Adam gives me an amused look. Embarrassed, I look at the floor instead.

“They’re beignets,” Adam explains, making his way to the man who is making them. They high-five each other, and what surprises me is that no one in line objects when the man passes my stepbrother a thick pastry topped with powder sugar.

They all seem to know him, smiling and greeting Adam as he walks back to me with the steaming beignet in his hand. When he’s only a few steps away, I finally realize what he wants me to do.

He bought that beignet for me. He wants me to eat it, be a good girl.

I suddenly feel like I’m going to collapse on the spot. I had an omelet this morning, everything except the olives, which I couldn’t stomach. It was amazing, but with every bite, I hated myself more. I knew I would punish myself - either by retching or not eating for the rest of the day to make up for the calories I’d ingested.

My stare is blank as Adam approaches me, proudly presenting me with the steaming pastry. “It’s delicious,” he assures me. The happy smile on his face is going to make this that much harder.

“Thanks,” I say, a fake smile plastered across my face. I’m sure Adam can tell I’m faking it from a mile away. “Very sweet of you, but I’m actually still really full from breakfast. Couldn’t have another bite.”

Adam just stares at me, his hand extended, the beignet’s scent tempting my nostrils. It’s so fucking hard to resist, but my body won’t let me take it. I could say yes, but I’d still be shaking my head. There is no way in hell I’m eating that.

Images of the frying pan fill up my mind, the thick, bubbling oil making me want to vomit. I feel faint and sick, and Adam is looking at me sternly. I hate hate hate this.

“Just have a bite, Tessa,” he asks me, his voice soft and sweet. His eyes are pleading me, asking to just indulge him. But I already have today, already eaten his breakfast. And now my body is going to punish me for it.

“I don’t want to,” I say weakly.

Adam steps up to me, his free hand wrapping gently around my hips. My heart beats weakly, but skips a beat when Adam touches me. Fuck, it still feels just as good as it used to, and I want more... But I know I can’t do that. Not now, not ever.

“Tessa, just one bite,” he asks me, his smile ever present on that handsome face. “Look, I’ll do it first, to show you how good it is.”

He raises the beignet to his mouth, taking a big bite out of the fried dough. He smiles at me as he chews it, but all I feel is sickness, like I’m about to lose that omelet I had for breakfast in the nearby bushes.

“No,” I shake my head weakly. I can’t do this for him, as badly as he needs it. “I don’t want to.”

Adam’s eyes darken, and that’s when I feel the panic truly settle in. Before he can do another thing, I rip myself from his embrace, surprising him so much he drops the pastry on the ground.

If we weren’t the center of attention before, we certainly have everyone’s eyes on us now. I give Adam an apologetic look, but I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t, won’t deal with this. I don’t have to - I don’t owe him a fucking thing.

I run off, leaving Adam behind. I don’t care where I’m going; I just want to get far, far away from here.

People move out of my way like I’m contagious, and for once, I’m grateful for it. I feel like I’m going to pass out any minute. Thankfully, I make it to the ladies room in the middle of the open space of the market. I jostle my way through the line and no one even says a thing. I can’t take any more of this.

I burst into an empty stall, retching over the toilet bowl. The remnants of my breakfast go right down the drain, along with everything good I’ve felt since I got here.

And I shouldn’t have fooled myself, because it will always be like this. I’ll always punish myself for that one moment of pleasure. All I know is pain - I’ve come to want it, crave it.

I’m a lost cause.

6 years ago

I've been shaking with nerves all day. It's only been a week since my mom dropped the biggest bomb ever on me - she's getting married again.

My dad passed away when I was very little, and I never really thought my mom would find another man. But I guess it’s happened and today is the day I get to meet my new family.

My teeth chatter with fear and nervousness. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, feeling more awkward than ever. Mom says I have nothing to worry about. James Monroe and his son Adam, who are both coming to live with us, are both sweet and nice. I'll get on with them splendidly.

My gaze lands on my hands resting against the surface of the table. My palms are sweaty, my mind swimming with every single insult I've heard in my life. I'm sure my new stepbrother won't hesitate to tell me exactly what he thinks of me.

How could he not? I'm fat, and people don't care about my feelings. This has been proven time and time again, and not a day goes by that I don't get called names because of my appearance.

I bite my bottom lip, already feeling the familiar prick of tears behind my eyes. But I make myself stop - I can't let them see how weak I really am. I have to stay strong for mom, who is probably the happiest I've ever seen her. And if I can't be happy, she should be, at least.

The doorbell rings.

My mom turns around from her position at the stove, a huge smile on her lips as she winks at me and goes to answer the door. I'm sweating bullets and swallow hard, the motion hurting my throat. I can't ruin this for her. I have to be a good girl.

I hear voices chattering in the hall and dig my nails into the soft skin of my palms as I hear them approaching. My heart is beating a thousand times per minute, and I'm growing fainter and fainter.

A man is the first to enter the room. Tall, broad shouldered and with a nice smile. He's middle aged, perfectly normal looking, with geeky glasses and a rumpled shirt.

"You must be Tessa," he tells me with a warm smile, walking over to me to shake his hand. I get up abruptly, almost tripping over myself in order to get to him. Already blushing, I shake my hand. I hope he doesn't say anything about my clammy skin, because I feel awkward enough as it is.

By some miracle, he doesn't say a thing, only smiles widely as we greet each other. He covers my hand with his palm and looks genuinely enthusiastic. About what, I can't imagine. I'm a fat kid that's standing in his way of being with my mom. Not much to be excited about when it comes to me.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Monroe," I mumble awkwardly, pushing my glasses up my nose. I feel self-conscious, almost painfully so.

At least new stepdad's glasses have that cool geek vibe. Mine are old and crooked on my nose, and currently making me feel like a slob.

"Please call me James," he says kindly, and I give him a weak smile. What the hell should I call him, if not James? Daddy definitely isn't an option, and I'm not addressing him as Mister, either.

"Sure thing," I say, and my eyes float to the entrance of the room where my mom is chattering animatedly with someone whom I can't see. I strain my neck, trying to catch a glimpse.

"Oh, Adam, come over here," James beckons his son jovially, and I blush when I realize he must have noticed my interest. God, this day could not be more awkward.

I smooth down the front of my too-big shirt in an attempt to look at least a little better. Whatever I do, it won't be enough, though.

My mom laughs at something and steps aside, and a guy walks into the kitchen from behind her. I nearly choke on my own spit but manage to conceal it as a cough when he walks over to where I’m standing.

Oh my god, oh my god. This can't be happening. My stepbrother cannot be this hot.

But another shy look at him tells me he just might be. He looks so wrong my mom might actually ground me if I so much as try to talk to him. Insanely tall, dark hair, dark eyes. He has broad shoulders like his dad, but that's where the resemblance ends.

The guy's biceps are peeking out from his tee, are covered in ink. I don't know if that's even legal - isn't he my age? If I were to tattoo my arms like that, my mom would rip my head off.

He also has a piercing in his lip and another one in his eyebrow, and possibly one in his nose as well. Also, he may or may not be wearing eyeliner.

This is not a guy I'm used to. I've had crushes on boyband members and All-American good guys with perfectly empty skin. Yet this guy's skin is better, more beautiful. Like a work of art.

I might say the same thing about his face.

I'm sure I'm blushing something fierce, but he pretends not to notice. I'm kind of intimidated by the guy. With all that ink and piercings, it would be hard not to be... I hope he doesn't try to murder me in front of my mom. It might put a damper on things.

"Hey, Tessa," he says in a low growl, and in that moment, I realize what panty-melting means. I nearly lose it on the spot, instead trying to pull it together and giving him a nervous smile as I stick out a shaky hand.

"What? A hand?" he says jokingly, having finally walked up to me. His smile is wide and dangerous. I'm already in trouble, my knees almost buckling under me with the sheer weight of his smile.

Instead of taking the hand I've offered him, he walks up to me and embraces me.

A guy’s never hugged me before. My dad's not around, and I don't have any male relatives we're close to. The idea of a boyfriend is laughable.

But oh my god, being in his arms feels good. It feels like all my worries are just going to melt away the longer I stay in his embrace. I would like that to be for a long time. Please, fairy godmother.

But Adam breaks away eventually, giving me another crooked smile that makes me all hot and bothered.

"It's nice to finally meet you," I manage to squeak like a mouse, and his smile grows.

"Hell yeah, it is!" he says enthusiastically. "I've been looking forward to a little sister of my own. I've always wanted a girlfriend."

I'm sure he means that in a completely innocent way, but I nearly choke again when he says it. His amused eyes meet mine and he raises an eyebrow at the look of sheer horror on my face.

My mom walks over and gives me a quick hug herself. I can feel her shaking a little - she's probably even more nervous about the whole thing than I am. After all, she has me to worry about. I'm always a burden to her. I wish it weren't that way. She never said so, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes.

But I don't let myself dwell on that too much.

Instead I sit down at the kitchen table along with everyone else, my eyes glued to my stepbrother. I’m already feeling a crush developing, an unease in the pit of my stomach. I know I’m probably blushing bright red.

I keep stealing glances at Adam while my mom prepares some tea and cookies, presenting them proudly on the table. I take one and gobble absent-mindedly, all the while hating myself for eating. I know I'll punish myself later.

"So, Tessa," Adam says with a wide grin while my parents chat. I can see my mom giving me a hopeful grin and it makes me blush with embarrassment. God, she's so desperate for us to get along, I'm already feeling anxious.

"What do you like to do in your spare time?" Adam wants to know, munching on his cookie. What the hell am I supposed to tell him? The sad truth is I sit in my room alone most days, wishing I wasn't such a loser. But saying that would make me so sad.

"I like reading," I confess, and his eyes actually light up.

"Awesome," he says. "I read a lot as well. I'm sure you don't like graphic novels, though?"

"I do," I say with renewed interest. No one I know reads them; besides, I don't think I've heard anyone call them anything but comics. 

"Do you like Marvel or DC?" I ask, testing the waters.

"Marvel all the way," Adam replies with a wide grin, which is instantly replicated on my own face. This makes me ridiculously happy for some reason. "Actually, I have an amazing collection. I was gonna unpack in your spare room and I can show you some first editions, if you'd like?"

"Wow, sure," I reply enthusiastically, looking at my mom for confirmation like some stupid little kid. She gives me an encouraging smile as Adam and I get up from the table. He actually looks excited at the prospect of spending time with me, God knows why.

"I'll grab my bag and meet you upstairs, okay?" he asks me, and I suddenly can't speak. I give a tight-lipped nod and he disappears towards the car parked up front while I walk to the spare room upstairs.

It's still so boring, barren of any decorations or a personal touch. And only a wall away from my own bedroom... The mere thought makes me embarrassed. I wonder if Adam will be able to hear me through the walls.

It's hard to imagine this place belonging to someone, when all it's been thus far is a room to put stuff we don't use. But I guess that's what is bound to happen... and Adam's dad will be sleeping in my mom's bedroom.

Gross. I'd better not even think about that.

Instead, I sit down on the bed and wait for Adam to get back. Pretty soon, I hear his steps on the stairs and he comes into the room. It's like a ray of sunshine just walked in, and I have no idea why this guy has an affect like that on me.

It seems like he could make everything right. One smile, and I feel like it'll all be okay. One word, and I'm smitten.

"Back," he says, grinning. I'm still speechless as he sits down next to me, so close on the bed our thighs are almost touching. My eyes inspect his muscled legs and my own overweight ones next to his. It makes me feel bad about myself.

But before I can spend too much time dwelling on the fact, Adam produces an object from his bag that makes me shriek with glee. "Oh my god!"

With trembling fingers I take the graphic novel from his hands, looking at him for permission before I take it out of its sleeve. He smiles and nods encouragingly and I slip the paper out, gently turning the pages.

"It's amazing," I whisper. I can't believe he has the comic; it's such a collector's item. He must've paid tons for it. I tell him as much, in awe of the beautiful art.

"It was my mom's," he admits and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. I know only a little bit about his mother - my mom told me she left him and his dad and they're not in contact. I've no idea if I'm supposed to know that, though.

"Do you miss her?"

The words slip off my tongue before I can stop them, and I immediately blush. But still, I want to hear his answer, and my eyes wander to Adam's face, checking for a response.

He's looking down at the comic on my knees, his eyes thoughtful. God, but he really is handsome, all sharp and sexy lines, and those piercings... But he seems so nice, a sharp contrast to his dark and brooding looks.

"I do," he finally admits. "I miss her a lot. But she made her decision, and there's nothing I can do about that."

I expect him to break down after that, but instead, he offers me the widest smile in the world. I return it, amazed by his good nature. I would resent my mom if she did that to me, for sure. He's brave.

We spend an hour looking through his comics and I compliment him on his collection. I can't stop staring at Adam, and my heart flutters every time he laughs at one of my jokes. I know I'm treading on dangerous ground, but I can't seem to resist... It's just too damn nice to hear him laugh.

Finally, I get up and smooth down my dress. "I should get started on my homework," I say apologetically.

"Oh, sure." Adam gets up, giving me a smile. "Hey, are you going to Jimmy Walter too? I'm transferring next week."

My heart falls in my chest. He'll be going to my school starting next week. Granted, I'm a freshman and he's a senior, but it makes me so scared. I'm not even remotely popular. In fact, I'm bullied daily, a fact I've never told anyone.

"Um, yeah," I mumble. "I guess I'll see you at school, too."

"Should be fun," Adam says innocently, and I sigh. He gives me a strange look. "Something wrong, Tessa?"

"Not really," I say immediately. I've been taught not to say anything about my issues. Bottle it all up; don't say a thing - that's my motto. But for some reason, I feel like I can trust this boy whom I don't even know.

"I don't have a great time at school," I admit brokenly, and I can already feel treacherous tears prickling my eyes. "I don't really have a great group of friends."

Make that no friends at all.

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?" Adam's smile is wide and honest and I can't believe he's saying that.

"Why?" I whisper, giving him a hard look.

"Huh?" He looks confused.

"Why would you want to help me?" I ask defensively, already ready to fight him when he says he feels sorry for me. I will not take anyone's pity, let alone his.

"I don't know," he says with a nervous smile, scratching his head. "You seem nice... plus, you’re pret-”He coughs awkwardly.

I almost have to pick my jaw up from the floor. I just stare at him, unable to comprehend he just said that. Well… half of it.

"You think I'm pretty?"