Crush (4 page)

I wondered what could have made her that way. Something to do with her mother, perhaps? I was still fuzzy on the details of that. Had her Mom split the same way my bio Dad did? Had she been an emotionally abusive parent like Vince?

My face softened as I thought about it, and I sat down next to her. “Wanna drink?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

“You sure? They make a mean Long Island Iced Tea up at the bar.”

“You really don’t like taking no for an answer, do you?” she replied, her voice stiff.

Jesus, okay. Something had definitely crawled up her ass.

“Look, I want to apologize,” I said. “I know you’re still pissed about the way I acted in the pool yesterday, and I’m sorry. I was being a dick. I really didn’t want you to leave, and then I lashed out at you when you did. I don’t even know exactly why I did that. I swear, that’s not who I am.”

“That’s not really an excuse for calling me a bitch,” she replied quietly, still not looking at me. I couldn’t tell if she was avoiding my gaze because she couldn’t stand me and didn’t want to look at me because of that, or if there was something else at play.

“I know, and I’m sorry. You gotta believe me. It was a mistake. The whole thing was. It’ll never happen again,” I said.

She still didn’t look at me, and I sighed, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. I’d been a grade-A fuckstick, and she didn’t seem to want to let it go.

“Anyway, I guess we’re sorta related now,” I continued, gesturing towards our dancing parents. “So there’s no point in us even thinking about what happened, other than for me to say sorry and that it won’t happen again. Do you think we can agree to move past it?”

What I’d said about not thinking about it wasn’t entirely true. I was damn sure still thinking about it, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t be able to stop anytime soon.

Mia finally turned to me, her dark eyes glittering. “We’re not related, whether you think we are or not. You aren’t my family and never will be. And as for what happened between us yesterday, you’re right…it
was
a mistake, but you don’t need to tell me not to think about it. I’d already forgotten.”

Now I was getting a little irritated. She was being pretty immature. Yes, I’d fucked up at the pool, but I was trying to apologize. I’d made a mistake like every other human did at some point, and she wasn’t even letting me say sorry. I didn’t expect her to totally forgive me or anything, but if we were going to be family, the least she could do was acknowledge that I was making an effort to apologize and move on from the situation.

Whatever. I’d tried. If she didn’t want to give me the time of day, then I wasn’t gonna bother anymore. Obviously I wasn’t going to be an outright jerk to her, but I wasn’t going to waste my time trying to talk to her as long as she was going to be like this.

“Fine,” I said, abruptly standing up. “Y’know, I was trying to be nice to you seeing as we’re technically part of the same family now, even though you refuse to admit that, but if you wanna keep acting like a fucking child, go ahead. I give up.”

She glowered at me, saying nothing, and I knew I’d made my point. In the very short time I’d known her, she’d struck me as the sort of person who was never lost for words, and I felt a tinge of victory as she stayed quiet. This time, she
was
lost for words. She probably despised me even more now that I’d basically shocked her into silence.

Despite the fact she had a giant stick up her ass, I still found her entirely fuckable, and now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure if I even cared all that much if she disliked me. Something about the idea of her raging at me made my cock immediately stiffen in my pants, as if I somehow knew her anger towards me would transform her into a wildcat in the bedroom.

Not that I’d ever get her into a bedroom with me.

I was allowed to fantasize, though, and damn…it was hot. I’d never fuck her in real life, but I could fuck the shit outta her in my fantasies. She didn’t have to like me for that to happen.

And come to think of it, having a sister who couldn’t stand me might actually be a nice change.

My last stepsister had been obsessed with me. That was Amanda. She was the same age as me, and the whole time my Mom had been married to Vince, she’d had an insane crush on me and tried to seduce me at every opportunity the minute we both hit puberty. I’d never reciprocated her feelings, but even now that our parents were divorced, she’d still try to sink her fangs into me under the pretense of ‘family catchups’. Barely a week went by without her texting or calling me.

Yeah, my new stepsister disliking me would definitely be a nice change from that sorta bullshit.

I turned to walk away, and Mia finally responded. “Wait,” she said. “Look, you’re right. We don’t want to ruin things for our parents, so we should move on from our little spat. Let’s just agree to never bring up the pool incident again. It never happened. Okay?”

My eyes narrowed slightly. “Got it. It didn’t happen.”

Now all I had to do was actually convince myself that it didn’t happen. As I strode away towards the bar, my earlier concern became even clearer. Pretending nothing went on between us was going to be a serious fucking problem for me, and I had no idea how I was going to handle it.

As much as I couldn’t fucking stand to admit it, all I knew was that only twenty-four hours ago, I’d met Mia, and my world had already tilted on its axis. It was only a slight movement, but it was there nonetheless, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Goddammit.

CHAPTER FOUR

MIA

“Should I get pink streaks in my hair to match this dress?”

I glanced over at my best friend, Tamara, as she held up a deep pink dress in front of one of the mirrors in the small clothing boutique we were in. Classes started tomorrow, and we were treating ourselves to a quick shopping trip before the craziness of lectures, essays and exams began again.

“Get the dress, but maybe don’t go for the streaks,” I replied. “Your parents would kill you!”

She poked her tongue out at me. “Of course you’d say that, Miss Goody Two-Shoes,” she replied with a grin.

I grinned back at her. While I was generally studious and quiet, she was the polar opposite of that. Not just in personality; looks as well. I was on the shorter site and quite curvy, and she was tall and slim with legs that went on for miles. Despite all our inherent differences, she and I had been friends for what felt like forever. We’d gone to school together, and now we were enrolled in the same classes at Overton together. She told me everything, and I told her everything too. Usually. That had changed in the last few days.

She knew that my Dad had remarried, but I hadn’t given her any details about Brad, my new stepbrother. I just didn’t know how to explain any of what happened in Biloxi to her. I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself, to be honest. How could I tell her I’d hooked up with my stepbrother in the pool only hours before our parent’s wedding? Sure, I hadn’t known who he was when it happened, but still…it was pretty scandalous. Even she’d think so, and she’d accidentally made out with her second cousin at a bar once before discovering who he was.

Straight after the wedding, Brad had tried to apologize to me about the whole pool incident, and frankly, I’d been a total bitch to him about it. I simply hadn’t been in the mood to listen to him. When he’d called me out on what a child I was acting like, I’d realized he was right, and I’d felt quite ashamed at my crappy behavior. He was trying to be an adult and make things right between us, and I’d basically flipped him the bird and told him to go screw himself, in a manner of speaking.

I felt bad about it, but that wasn’t enough to make me start being nice to him after the wedding was over and done with. I’d still been too distracted by the shock of the surprise marriage between our parents to even think about forming any kind of bond with my new stepbrother.

Besides, I wasn’t sure I even
wanted
to form any sort of friendship with him.

Truthfully, that was because no matter how much I thought I couldn’t stand him after our first encounter and no matter how much I told myself he was the kind of guy my Mom had warned me about, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from being crazily attracted to him.

There, I said it. I truly loathed to admit it, but I had an all-out ridiculous crush on him.

Douchey frat-boy or not, he was sexy as hell, and hardly a moment had gone by in the last couple of days in which I hadn’t been thinking of his muscular body pressed up against mine in that pool. I’d barely even been able to breathe throughout the entire wedding ceremony because of those invading thoughts. Brad had been standing so close to me, and every time he turned his head even slightly, I could feel his gaze on me out of the corner of his eye. Something about it made me feel…naked. There was no other way to explain it, and every time it happened, I felt another unwelcome rush of heat between my legs.

Having a little crush on him like this was totally inappropriate, and I didn’t want it to be happening. He was my
stepbrother
now, and even though he’d done the mature thing and apologized to me about the pool incident, I still thought he was an arrogant ass in most respects. All he ever seemed to talk about with my Dad was how much freaking money he was looking forward to making several years down the track. Seriously, hadn’t anyone ever taught him that money wasn’t everything?

I’d figured there was only one thing I could do to stop my stupid crush. If I put on a mask of pure disdain around him, then maybe my body would eventually catch on and stop screaming at me to go for him. So far it hadn’t worked at all, and I’d gotten the impression that my surly attitude actually amused him. But it was early days yet.

Tamara put the pink dress back on the rack and picked up a red one instead.

“I think I like this one better,” she declared before turning to me. “So anyway, how are you adjusting to your Dad suddenly getting married? It’s crazy, right? I couldn’t believe it when you called and told me.”

I shrugged and inspected a white silk shirt. “It’s fine, I guess. Karen seems really nice.”

She snorted. “Mia, I do like to shop, but I’m not buying your bullshit for a second. I can tell when you’re not happy about something. So spill.”

I let out a reluctant smile. As usual, she was right. She had a real talent for being able to read my facial expressions and determine my mood, and she was very rarely wrong. It wasn’t just Brad who was bothering me; it was the whole wedding.

Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for my Dad, and Karen really did seem great. I was still a little annoyed that they’d sprung it on us at the last-minute, but the main issue was something more serious. When Dad had been dancing on the sand with Karen after the ceremony, he’d looked at her with the exact same blissfully loving expression which had once been reserved for my mother, and try as I might, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that Mom’s memory was slowly fading before my very eyes with the event of Dad remarrying. It was a heavy load to carry around on my mind.

Talking to Tamara would probably help, so I explained it all to her in a halting voice, and her face softened. “Oh, Mia…just because he’s moved on doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop loving your Mom,” she said.

“I know, and I’ve told myself that a hundred times. But I still can’t help feeling this way. It makes me feel even worse that I can’t tell my Dad about it, because I don’t want to spoil his happiness. I just feel so guilty. I’m a bitch, right?”

Tamara slid the red dress onto her left arm and came over to me before slinging her free arm around my shoulder.  “I get it. It’s okay,” she said. “You’re not a bad person for feeling like this. But don’t worry, your Mom’s memory will
always
be there. I think you just need some time to adjust to all the new things going on.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

We lapsed into silence as we inspected an end-of-summer sales rack for bargains.

“So I saw that your Dad put out a little wedding announcement in this morning’s paper,” Tamara said a moment later. “Your new stepmom has nice eyes.”

“Yeah, she does,” I said with a nod, recalling the picture they’d chosen to use in the announcement. It was just Karen and my Dad in the photo, but Brad and I had gotten a mention in the text below the picture. I hoped Tamara hadn’t read much of it, but as luck would have it, she had.

“The announcement also mentioned something about her having a son,” she continued, giving me a side-eyed glance. “Bradley or Brandon, or something like that?”

Damn, she never missed a beat.

“Err…yeah. It’s Brad.”

“What’s he like?”

“Brad ? Um…” I stalled for time and turned my head to a rack of scarves, not wanting to reveal anything in my expression that might make her suspicious. “He’s okay, I guess.”

“Is he hot?”

I shrugged and turned back to face her. “I don’t know,” I lied. “I wasn’t really thinking anything like that about him when we met. I mean, he’s my stepbrother now.”

Her eyes crinkled around the sides. Dammit, she knew I was hiding something. “Well, what’s he like? Personality wise, I mean.”

“Um…I guess you could say he has all the charms of a forced redundancy email.”

She laughed. “Ohhh, now I see why you’re being all weird about it. You totally hate him, but you don’t want to make things awkward for your Dad.”

I feigned a laugh of acknowledgement. “Yep, that’s it,” I said. “That’s exactly it.”

Except it wasn’t.

If only she knew the truth.

I felt bad for deceiving my friend, but I still had no idea how to tell her about my real feelings towards Brad. It just seemed so…wrong. It was okay, though. It was just a teeny-tiny little crush, and it would be gone soon. He was all the way over in Hattiesburg all semester, and it was easy to forget a crush when there was some distance between the two people involved. Or so I hoped.

“Well, it’s not like you’ll have to see much of him, except maybe over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” she said, seemingly satisfied by my answer.

“Yeah.”

“So is there anything else on your mind?” she asked, her eagle eyes focused directly on me as I ran my hand over a silk scarf.

“Actually, yeah, there is. There’s something else about this whole marriage which is worrying me. After the announcement ran in the paper this morning, my Dad got two threatening letters emailed to his office
.
Isn’t that awful? And that’s just the start. You know how intolerant some folks in these parts can be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. Racists are such dicks. I hope your Dad is okay.”

“Yeah, he’s used to it, as sad as that is. It’s not just the racist people, though. He called me a couple of hours ago to talk to me about it. Apparently one of his colleagues is annoyed at him because he feels like my Dad is betraying the cause by marrying a white woman.”

Tamara nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know a few people like that. On the one hand, I can see their point about wanting to be with someone like them who understands and shares the things they’ve experienced, but on the other hand, love is blind. It doesn’t care about race or sex or anything else, and honestly, who you fall in love with is no one else’s damn business, in my opinion. I mean, if Ben had freakin’ blue skin, there isn’t a single person in the world who could convince me not to be with him just because he was different to me.”

Ben was her boyfriend of a year. He was an economics major at Overton, and he was a really decent guy.

“Yeah, you’re right. I wish everyone could see things like that,” I replied. “Oh, and come to think of it, Ben
was
looking a little blue last time I saw him.”

She laughed and playfully swatted me, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth. Her gaze fell on a black and gold dress on a mannequin a moment later, and she raised her eyebrows. “Oh my God! That dress would look amazing on you! You have to try it on.”

I inspected it, wrinkling my nose. It was rather short; more of a club-hopping sort of dress. “Where would I wear this?” I asked.

“The Halloween party at my cousin’s frat house,” she replied, rummaging through the racks and finding the dress in my size. “Here. Try it!”

“Wait, what party?”

“I told you about it on Facebook, didn’t I? You know my cousin at USM? His frat is having a huge party for Halloween, and he invited us. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Oh, right, I remember now. But that’s ages away.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but you know how fast the weeks go by during the semester. It’ll be here before you know it, and this might be the last chance we have for a proper shopping day.”

“True. Shouldn’t we wear costumes?”

She laughed. “No one wears costumes on Halloween anymore. That’s so nineties.” She stuck her tongue out at me again and thrust the dress at me. “Come on. Get in that fitting room!”

I took the dress from her and shimmied out of my current outfit, assessing my body in the harsh, unflattering light of the fitting room. Why was it that you could look in a mirror at home and think you looked pretty good, and then you’d see yourself in a store fitting room the same day and suddenly think you looked terrible? It didn’t make much sense to me – you’d think they’d use flattering lighting to make people more likely to love the way clothes looked on them in order to increase sales. Then again, I was a political major, not a clothing store owner. What did I know?

I slid into the dress and appraised my reflection in the mirror. I had to admit, Tamara had been right…again. It looked nice on me and played up my curves to perfection, and despite the horrible lighting in here, I was happy with it. It would definitely suit a raging party at a frat house.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Brad was going to be at the party in question. It was at a USM frat house, and that was his college, so the chances were quite high.
Who cares?
I chided myself.
Stop thinking about him.

“Mia, do you remember Jeremy?” Tamara called out from the fitting room next to me.

“Um…I don’t think so. Jeremy who?” I asked.

“Ben’s friend from class. Jeremy Dunham. You met him last semester at that little gathering we had at Ben’s place. Remember?”

Jeremy Dunham…hmm, that name did sound vaguely familiar. I racked my brains, searching for a face to put to the name.

“Wait, was he the economics major?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” she replied.

I remembered him now. We’d had a very brief conversation at Ben’s dorm. From what I recalled, he was tall with fair hair, light eyes and relatively tanned skin. His loose, rumpled T-shirt and faded jeans had almost hidden the fact that he had a decently-muscled body under them, but not quite.