Chapter two

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Dinner was supposed to be awkward.

Moana had prepared herself for it, tense silences, forced conversation, her mother trying too hard while Richard pretended everything was normal. She'd even rehearsed responses in her head, safe topics that wouldn't reveal how much she wanted to strangle Dylan Dickhead for existing in her new life.

But Dylan had other plans.

"So Queens," he said, cutting into his steak with deliberate precision. "Your Mom said you took gymnastics classes, no wonder you're so flexible during cheerleading." His eyes were on her teasingly 

Moana's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her jaw tightened. "Yeah, very flexible," she replied coolly. "But it's not all about the flexibility."

"I see." Dylan's smile was pleasant, the kind that would've fooled anyone who didn't know him. "You are good at juggling things. Top of the class and all that."

Her mother beamed. "You two really do know each other. That's wonderful."

Richard nodded, looking between them with obvious relief. "I was worried there might be some adjustment period, but it looks like you're already comfortable with each other."

Comfortable indeed.

Moana met Dylan's eyes across the table and saw the challenge there, the smugness barely concealed behind his perfect son act. He was playing a game, and he was winning. 

Fucking Dickhead.

"We get along great, we only just compete in class," Dylan continued, reaching for his water glass. "Right little sister?"

The word landed like a slap. Little Sister. He'd said it so casually, so deliberately, and Moana felt heat crawl up her neck.

"Sure," she managed.

Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm so glad. I know this is a big change for both of you, but having each other will make it easier."

Moana forced a smile and took a bite of her food. It tasted like cardboard.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation that Moana barely registered. 

Dylan kept up his act perfectly, charming and attentive, asking Richard about work and complimenting Rosaline on the salad she'd thrown together. He was good at this, she realized. Good at pretending. Good at making people believe whatever he wanted them to believe.

It made her want to throw her wine in his face.

"You know what?" Dylan set down his fork and looked at Richard. "I was thinking I should take Queens out after dinner. Show her around the neighborhood, maybe grab some ice cream or something. Help her get familiar with the area."

Rosaline's face lit up. "Oh, that's such a sweet idea."

"I think that's great," Richard agreed. "Good bonding time."

Moana's stomach dropped. "That's really not necessary."

"Come on," Dylan said, his smile widening. "It'll be fun. Unless you'd rather stay here and be bored all night."

She wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell him to go to hell and spend the rest of the evening locked in her room. But her mother was looking at her with such hope, such genuine happiness, that the words died in her throat.

"Fine," Moana said quietly. "That sounds nice."

Dylan's smirk was brief but unmistakable. "Perfect. Go ahead and change, little sis. Something comfortable. We'll take my bike."

He stood and carried his plate to the kitchen, leaving Moana sitting there with her pulse hammering in her ears.

This was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake.

But she pushed back from the table anyway and headed upstairs.

Her room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as she rifled through her closet. Something comfortable, he'd said. She pulled out a pair of bum shorts that sat low on her hips and hugged her ass in a way that was probably illegal in some states. A black crop top came next, the fabric soft and ending just above her belly button, her titties looking round in it.

Moana pulled her hair out of its ponytail and let it fall in loose waves around her shoulders. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt a flicker of satisfaction. She was looking dangerously sexy, if Dylan wanted to play games, she could play too.

She turned toward the bed to grab her phone and froze.

Dylan was leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that made her skin prickle.

"Jesus Christ," Moana snapped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Do you ever knock?"

"I did knock, but you were busy admiring that tiny waist of yours." His voice was low, lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He pushed off the frame and stepped into her room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"Get out."

"I'm always welcomed in your room Queens." His eyes dragged over her slowly, taking in every inch of the shorts, the crop top, the exposed skin. When his gaze finally met hers again, it was darker and Hungry. "Looking sexy as fuck, Queens. Or should I say, step sister?"

Moana's breath hitched. She hated that she noticed how good he looked, dark jeans that hung low on his hips with silver chains, plain white singlets that somehow made his shoulders look broader. His hair was still damp from the shower, falling across his forehead in a way that was completely unfair.

"What are you doing in my room?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you should learn to knock. What if I was naked?"

Dylan's smirk was slow and wicked. "That would be a pleasant view." Then he bit his lip. “I've always imagined how you'd look when you're stark naked”

Moana almost lost it.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily, heat pooling low in her stomach, and she cursed herself for the reaction. This was Dylan fucking Dickhead. Arrogant and infuriating Dylan who'd never stop getting on her nerves. The fact that he was hot didn't change anything.

Except it did. And he knew it.

"Are you done staring?" she asked, her voice sharp. She was trying to show she wasn't affected with what he had said. Pretending he didn't say such raw words.

"Are you?"

"I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual." Dylan took a step closer, and Moana's back hit the edge of her desk. "But we both know that's not the whole story, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." He was close now, close enough that she could smell him,clean soap and something darker, something that made her head spin. "Are you ready to go, or do you need a few more minutes to compose yourself?"

Moana shoved past him, grabbing her phone off the bed. "Let's just get this over with."

Dylan's laugh followed her into the hallway. "That's the spirit."

They headed downstairs together, and Moana caught a glimpse of her mother and Richard in the living room, curled up on the couch watching a movie. They looked happy. Settled. Like a real couple.

Her chest tightened.

"We're heading out," Dylan called.

Richard waved without looking away from the screen. "Have fun. Be safe."

"Don't stay out too late," Rosaline added.

She didn't even turn away from the screen either.

"We won't." Dylan's hand landed on the small of Moana's back, guiding her toward the door, and she jerked away from the touch.

He grinned knowingly.

The garage was massive, big enough to fit eight cars and still have room for storage. But Moana's attention went straight to the motorcycle parked in the center, sleek black metal that looked fast and dangerous, just like its owner.

Dylan grabbed two helmets off a shelf and tossed one to her. "Ever been on a bike before?"

"No."

"You're going to love it." He swung his leg over the seat and started the engine, the roar echoing off the walls. Then he looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Come on, Queens. Don't tell me you're scared."

Moana pulled the helmet on and climbed onto the bike behind him, her thighs pressing against his hips. There was nowhere else to put her hands, so she gripped his shoulders, hating how solid he felt under her fingers.

Dylan reached back and grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms around his waist. "Hold on tight."

Her body was flush against his now, her chest pressed to his back, and she could feel every breath he took.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice muffled by the helmet.

Dylan revved the engine once, twice, and then looked over his shoulder. His eyes locked on hers through the visor, and his voice was rough when he spoke.

"I'm gonna ride you to ecstasy, Moana."

Her breath caught. That's the first time he'd be calling her by her name and she loved how it sounded on his lips. She bit her lips hard, she could feel her other lips down there already soaked.