Faking It With My stepbrother

Asher’s POVI didn't want a stepsister, especially one like Lila Monroe.She was all sunlight and weird energy. She hummed when she drew, talked to herself when she thought no one was looking and dressed like she was in season one of Shameless.I hated her. Because of her mother, my father remarried just after a year of my mom's death. How could he? How could he move on so easily? I stopped counting how many times I wanted to smash something since then.I was never going to like her, and her mother, and I wanted her to know that. I was toasting my bread that morning when he said, “You'll drive your new sister to school, Asher.”I stared at him across the kitchen island. “Are you serious?”“Yes,” he said without looking up from his phone. “Lila isn’t taking public transportation. She’ll ride with you.”“She’s not a kid.”“She’s family,” he said.Lila walked in right then, her dirty blonde hair tied up in some messy bun, wearing a yellow sweater that looked like it belonged in a childre

Asher’s POVRumors died fast at Harrington when you gave them something better to chew on.Unfortunately for Lila and I, nothing new came up. It was a Monday morning and Lila had spent her time with her father over the weekend.And even though I'd never say it out loud, I had missed having her around the house. I pulled into the school's parking lot, and turned off the engine of my motorcycle but I didn't stand up.I know I said this was fake, but I could not stop thinking about her, not that I'll admit it to anyone. No other girl had ever made me lose sleep before. Hell, I didn't even smoke my cigarettes this weekend.A beat up Ford sedan pulled up into the lot just then. It wasn't flashy like all the other cars in the lot. I've never seen that car before so it must be her. I was right.Lila stepped out, slinging her backpack over one shoulder as her dirty blonde hair caught the morning light. Her face was set in a frown but still effortlessly pretty in her vintage sweater, miniskirt

Asher's POVI shouldn't have walked away from her like that.The thought kept circling my head as I paced the empty classroom, my hands clenched into fists. I could still see the look on her face when that pretty boy mentioned her crush. The way her cheeks had flushed, the way she'd stammered.It shouldn't have bothered me. This whole thing was fake anyway.But it did bother me. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit.I grabbed my phone, about to text her something—anything—when I heard voices in the hallway. Sharp, hushed whispers that didn't match the usual noise of students between classes.Curiosity got the better of me. I cracked open the classroom door and peered out.Vivian.She was at the end of the corridor near the east wing, looking around nervously like she was checking if anyone was watching. In her hands was a duffel bag I'd never seen her carry before. What the hell was she doing?I stepped out quietly, keeping close to the lockers as I followed her. She pushed thro

Lilas Pov“If you’re planning on murdering me and dumping my body in a vat of motor oil, just know that my ghost will haunt your playlist and change every song to polka music.”Lila stood in the center of the ‘Sanctuary,’ her hands on her hips, looking like a high-fashion pixie who had accidentally wandered into a post-apocalyptic garage. The warehouse smelled like gasoline, stale cigarettes, and testosterone—the kind of place where OSHA went to die.Asher leaned against a customized Harley, his bandaged arm in a sling, looking unfairly seductive despite the fact that he was currently being a brooding prick. “It’s not oil, princess. It’s high-octane fuel. And trust me, I have much more creative things in mind for your body than dumping it.”“Oh? Is that a promise or a threat? Because if it’s a promise, I need to know if I should fix my hair,” Lila shot back, her eyes sparkling with that unpredictable fire that made Asher want to either kiss her or lock her in a room so the world could

Asher’s POV“If being this handsome was a crime, I’d be serving consecutive life sentences, but luckily for the world, I prefer my felonies to involve high-speed chases and upsetting my father’s tax attorney.”I stood in the corridor of Harrington Academy, leaning against a trophy case that probably cost more than my first three bikes combined. A group of juniors giggled as they walked past, casting lingering glances at my bandaged arm and the way my leather jacket hugged my shoulders. I gave them a wink—pure muscle memory at this point—and watched one of them nearly trip over her own loafers.Being the campus bad boy had its perks, but today, my mind was occupied by a very specific, very frustrating brunette who currently smelled like another man’s cologne."You look like you're plotting a murder, Vale. Or a very aggressive redecoration," a voice drawled.I didn't even have to turn my head. "If I were plotting a murder, Jax, you wouldn't hear me coming. You’d just wake up in a dumpst