Chapter 3: I WANT TO FORGET

JOSH

3 HOURS Earlier**

Hena tugs at my sleeve, taking her lower lip between her teeth. “ Come on, you can't still be pissed.” She exclaims, and I push her off as I stand, walking to the balcony to take a drag.

The party noise seems to fade, the silence engulfs me in its embrace.

Footsteps click as Hena comes after me, whining and mumbling some incoherent shit!“ It was a mistake!” she says and I stifle the urge to laugh.

A mistake—

A freaking mistake?

I can still remember finding her, another man hovering over her as she moans his name.

This isn't the first time and I know it definitely won't be the last.

But I can't break up with her, My father would murder me. He needs her to talk to her father for his business deal and breaking up with her would ruin it all.

“ You know I love you right? I didn't do it intentionally.” She says as she taps gently on my shoulder, “ Baby, come on, talk to me. Please.”

“ We have nothing to talk about,” I reply and turn about to walk away when my phone buzzes, taking it out I see a message from the freaking devil himself.

“ Your future step sister is being a bitch, find her and bring her home safely.”

Right.

I forgot about her.

The step sister.

What's her name? Stella? Sonia? Oh yeah Stacey.

“ Is everything okay?” Hena asks but I ignore her, tucking my phone into my pocket. I pull out my bike keys, tossing my jacket over my shoulders.

As I reach the entrance, I spot Bryan, his mouth buried against some girl as she grips his hair. His eyes flick to me. I nod to him then walk out.

The night air hits me and I can't deny, it's comforting in a way, but I don't let the feeling simmer as I mount my bike, wearing my helmet. My phone buzzes once more and I pull it out.

It's an image from dad.

The text attached says “ This is what she looks like.”

I can't care less about her.

This is just father's sick way of managing the press. Ever since SHE went missing, three years ago.

Shoving the thought back, I click on the image and momentarily, I forget to breathe.

She's Stacy.

The Stacy.

My Stacy.

The same girl I'd spent three years obsessing over.

Long cinnamon hair that flows with the wind, bronze skin that shines golden beneath the morning light, freckles that coat her face in irregular patterns and brown eyes that leave me breathless every freaking time.

That's her.

She probably doesn't remember me but I do. She saved Bethany's life— that was three months before she went missing— I can still remember how calm she was, how gracefully she handled the situation, my heart races in my chest.

After that, I watched her.

Daily.

What she ate.

What she did.

Everything.

She'd probably be creeped out when she finds out— I mean who wouldn't but I don't care.

And right now, she’s out there.

Alone.

Probably drunk.

Because from father's earlier texts, she'd found out about her mother's engagement and threw a fit then walked out.

An act that makes my heart swell in pride. She's just as against the marriage as I am.

Pocketing my phone, I throw on my helmet and slip the keys into ignition. The engines growl as it comes alive.

Wherever she is.

I need to find her.

_____

It’s been three hours of aimless driving. I make a few stops along the way, showing her picture to pedestrians and praying they’ve seen her but they all give the same generic answer.

Where could she be?

I try to stay calm, but I’m failing miserably. Sweat prickles my skin. Unease coils in my chest but still I keep going.

My bike starts to slow, I pray to fuck that it's not what I think. My gaze flicks to the fuel gauge, my teeth clench when I see it's freaking empty!

I filled this shit this morning!!

I pull over to the curb, slamming my helmet against the seat.

“Where could she be?” I groan, dragging a hand through my hair.

That’s when I spot her.

A girl, three guys surrounding her.

I almost ignore it at first.

Then I hear it.

Faint. Barely there. “Help…”

Only one person could sound like that.

It’s Stacy.

In seconds I'm with them, pulling one of those fuckers off her, my fist collides with his face, making him stagger. I grab one, slam his head into the wall. The other lunges—I hit him before he gets close.

“ You fucking asshole!” The one from earlier charges at me with a plank, his swings pathetic if I could say the least. I duck when he reaches me, going behind him and giving him a kick to his back.

His body almost crashes against Stacy's but I catch him just in time tossing him to the side, his body bangs against the ground. I turn to her, her body trembles as she hides behind her palms, terrified.

Her eyes are moist. Snot rolls down her nostrils and I badly want to smash that fuckers head into the ground.

I take a step forward. “ Don't come any closer!” She exclaims and I stop. If I want to get to her, I have to calm her down.

“ You're fine. I promise you I won't hurt you.”

“ I don't believe you.”

I raise my hands in surrender, “ look, I'm unarmed.” I see the fear simmer from her eyes and slowly, she takes a step forward.

She reeks of alcohol and weed, probably from the guys.

When she's finally within my reach, I ask. “ Are you okay?” I try to keep my voice as calm as possible not to frighten her but instead she breaks into sobs.

“ Hey, Hey, you don't have to cry.”

“ I'm not okay! How can I be okay? My life is falling apart and there's nothing I can do.” She wails and carefully I pull her close, embracing her, she doesn't resist, instead she leans in.

Instinctively, my hands move to her hair, stroking it slowly. “ My heart hurts, it hurts so bad, it feels as though something's…”

“ Like something’s being ripped out of your chest.” I finish and she looks up, her face inches away from mine and my lungs close, oxygen catches in my throat.

I've dreamed of this.

More times than I can count.

Her in my arms.

But not like this. She's drunk, she's trembling and she's broken.

“ Yeah…” she says breathlessly. My fingers itch to touch her but I don't. I shouldn't. She looks away sniffling.

“We should get you home,” I say, even though every part of me wants to keep her right here.

Her fingers curl into my shirt.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“ I just want to forget. I just want to exist for a moment without any problems…” She adds, meeting my gaze, my throat bobs.

Then please…let me touch you. I scream internally but my face remains stern. “ We have to leave, your mum will be worried.” She looks up, her brows furrow.

“ I don't want to go home! I want to be here! For once I just want to be reckless! If mum can be reckless why can't I?”

The air between us grows charged, the tension thick. Too thick. “ But you don't know who I am.” I say, slowly.

“ And that's the way it should be. No regrets. No strings. Just us.” There will be regrets and strings? Definitely, but not like this.

She reaches for my cheeks, “ Please.”

“ You're not thinking straight” I try to reason with her, even though I want this— I want this so bad.

“I am. I just don’t want to feel anything right now.” God Stacy! Please.

She leans up, sweat glistens my skin, my breath comes off chipped. She presses her lips against mine, just for a moment and that's enough to ruin me completely. My restraint dissolves to ash, carried away by the desire that swirls between us.

My voice lowers, the words sound breathy although I can barely breathe. “ Do you want to forget?”

“ Yes.”

I know I'll regret this.

She'll probably hate me when she finds out tomorrow that I'm her Stepbrother.

But I can live with the hate or maybe I can't.

But I don't care.

My hands curl around her nape, pulling her close. Her breaths fan my face making the scene even hotter. I crush my lips into hers.