Just His Little Stepsister

I panicked, pivoted, and returned to my bed. What did he want? How could I face him? No, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t look up from my bed even as his intoxicating scent filled the air around me. His presence brought cold to my body, and I wasn’t even looking at him.

He was so wrong for my health.

I heard the door shut behind him. His voice came next

“Can we talk?” He said hoarsely. His rough voice sounded like a result of sleep or smoke, maybe altogether. It shamefully had that strange effect on me that made my entire body tingle. My body was shameless for him, not me. It wasn’t my fault, it was my body.

“No. Go away.” My voice came out fast and shaky. He should just leave me alone. I couldn’t trust my own words with him right now. I didn’t think I could pretend like nothing was wrong when he had been ball deep inside just two days ago. I had bathed severally, but could still feel Jeremiah all over my body.

He came closer, just enough to cut off my air.

“You’re upset.”

I gave a sharp laugh that sounded bitter. “Oh, you think?”

He exhaled like he didn’t have time for this. “Then just tell me what’s wrong so we can get past it.”

I turned sharply. I almost lost my breath as I saw his face again. Looking impossibly good as usual even though his hair didn’t look brushed. I pushed away my admiration.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be impossible.” I spat.

He didn’t say anything at first, he just stared, his perfectly carved jaw flexing like he had alot he wanted to say but didn’t know where to start from.

“Use your lips, Teyan. What is wrong?”

Okay. That was it. I snapped.

“We had sex. We bathed together. You let me ride on your bike. You told me I was yours. You put me in your bed—and then the moment we pull into the driveway, a girl I never heard of was throwing her tongue down your throat. Should I be okay?”

He said nothing. I hated the fact that he could make himself impossible to read too.

I continued, “You could’ve told me, Jeremy! Before you took my virginity, you should have. Before you whispered things in my ear and made me believe I meant something to you!”

His eyes flickered at that. For just a second, something slipped past the mask that looked like guilt. But it was gone too fast.

“I didn’t plan for that night to happen,” he said finally.

I scoffed. “Yet you have a naked painting of me in your room. You told me you’ve wanted me for a long time.”

Silence.

“You told me I was the only one who could wear your clothes,” I whispered, voice cracking. “But I…saw her in your clothes later that morning. Why did you flatter me so much, Jeremiah?” His names felt heavy on my tongue. I might as well not call it again.

He stepped back then, putting space between us. And with that space came the blow.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said coldly. “You’re my stepsister and that can never change. That painting…is a mere fantasy of you. You aren’t the only one I’ve painted. I’ve painted alot of other girls so don’t build on that. You were just…one of my many fantasies and I was high on lust. I quenched it that night. Am I sorry? Very sorry. But you have to have it in mind that it meant nothing to me like you hope it does.”

My stomach dropped.

I suddenly hated myself. I hated him for ripping me apart.

I closed my eyes, unable to stomach the hurt. “God, I hate you” I murmured to myself but he heard.

“Tell me what you want. I will pay you if it’s money you need. Just don’t let anyone know about it.”

I ignored his words.

“So Bianca is really your fiancee.” Our eyes met. And unflinchingly, he replied me. “She is.”

I blinked, trying to breathe around the humiliation swallowing me whole. I should accept whatever he was telling me, but I couldn’t. I was already in love. He had owned me—body and soul. What would I do with myself now?

“You’re not serious,” I whispered.

“I am.” He turned, moving toward the door.

I stared at him, but he wouldn’t look at me.

“No one can know what happened between us. Ever.” He repeated as if I didn’t hear the last time he said it.

“So what am I to you now?” I said, hating the way my voice broke.

I hated the silence that followed. The suspense was killing. Then he said it. “You are my little stepsister, Tey.”

And then, he left.

I should have reclined to my bed after my sore encounter with my so-called stepbrother, but I was afraid I could pass out from overthinking. So I called Carol and headed out instead.

“I can’t see you, Car. I’m at Maggie’s bookshop already.”

“Just wait! I’m heading there with Chris. Don’t cut.”

I almost rolled my eyes. She’s been spending most of her times with Chris lately, and less with me.

“Okay.” I muttered weakly, feeling like I could get sick. I was already regretting my decision to step out. Right now, I just wanted to be in my bed badly. The fact that I couldn’t tell anyone what was bothering me was worse. It kept bottling in.

I didn’t even realize I was half sitting on a bike until I heard a husky voice spoke right beside my ear. “Do you need a ride, pretty?”

I jumped, startled by the sudden voice that just invaded my little moment. His body was leaned so close, it was uncomfortable. I quickly pulled away to look him up. A set of deep brown familiar eyes peered back at me. Leather jacket hugging him like it was sewn on his skin.

There was an helmet over his head, but he pulled it off as if wanting me to have a clearer view.

And I did. Messy hair, sinfully carved cheekbones, eyes like storm locked right onto me. What was his name again? Yeah…Zayne.

“Stay away from Zayne. He’s trouble.” Jeremy’s warning replayed in my head.

“Hmmm…sorry. I didn’t know I was leaning against your bike.” He didn’t speak right away. He was looking, staring, as if I was some sort of image he found amusing or mysterious.

“What…do I have a stain on my face?” I roamed my hand in front of my face for effect.

“No,” He said. “Just wondering which guy made you cry so much.”

I think my mouth dropped right after that. How could he possibly know?

I chuckled awkwardly, “you don’t know what you are talking about.” I turned and started to walk away. But he surprisingly caught up with me and held my wrist. I slowly looked from his leather glove that was wrapped against my wrist, and let my gaze slowly trace up to him.

“What do you want?” I asked, snatching my hand away from what felt like a possessive grip. He didn’t falter but let his hand drop, the other holding his helmet.

“I have this feeling you need a solid company.” He said in a British accent I noted was cool.

I snorted “So you are like a savior or something?” He made a slight disapproving face. His next words froze me.

“I don’t save, pretty, I Corrupt”

And before I could blink, he was handing me his spare helmet.

“Come ride with me.”

It was the same line Jeremy used after he shattered me.

But it didn’t feel like nostalgia.

It felt…strangely comforting.

I stared at the helmet in his hand.

And I had a choice.