Chapter One

POV: Ethan

I stood in the driveway with a cardboard box pressed against my chest, staring at the big house that was supposed to be my new home. The sun beat down on my neck, and sweat already stuck my shirt to my back. Mom laughed at something her new husband said, her voice bright like I had not heard in years. She looked happy. Really happy. That should have made me glad, but it only twisted something tight in my gut.

This whole thing had happened fast. One minute it was just the two of us in our old apartment, the next she was flashing a ring and talking about blended families. I had met Mark a few times before the wedding, but today was the first time I would actually live with him. And with his son.

The front door swung open and Lucas stepped out. I knew who he was right away. Everyone at my old school knew Lucas from the rival basketball team across town. Tall, broad shoulders, easy confidence in the way he moved. He wore a plain gray t-shirt and shorts, hair still messy like he had just rolled out of bed even though it was past noon. He jogged down the steps and grabbed two boxes from the trunk without being asked.

"Hey," he said, nodding at me as he passed. His voice sounded casual, like this was no big deal.

I mumbled something back and followed him inside. The house smelled like fresh paint and lemon cleaner. Boxes sat stacked in the living room. Mark clapped me on the shoulder when I set my load down.

"Welcome home, Ethan. We're glad you're here."

Mom beamed at both of us. "The boys are the same age. Senior year together. This is going to be great."

I forced a smile. Great. Sure.

Mark led us upstairs to show the rooms. The master bedroom had their stuff already unpacked. The guest room was empty except for a desk. "We're turning this into a home office," Mark explained. "So the boys can share the big room for now. Plenty of space."

My stomach dropped. Share a room. With him.

Lucas shrugged like it did not matter. "Two beds, right? No problem."

The room was bigger than my old one, with windows looking over the backyard. Two twin beds sat on opposite walls. A shared bathroom connected through a door on the side. My side already had my art supplies stacked in the corner because Mom had sent some boxes ahead. Sketchbooks, pencils, a couple of canvases leaned against the wall.

Lucas dropped the boxes he carried onto the empty bed. "You paint or something?"

"Yeah," I said, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Cool." He did not sound like he meant it much, but he did not sound mean either. Just neutral. Like he was sizing me up the same way I was sizing him.

Our parents left to run errands after that. They wanted to give us time to "settle in and get to know each other." Mom hugged me tight before she went. "This is a fresh start for all of us," she whispered. I nodded because what else could I do?

When the door closed behind them, the house felt too quiet. I started unpacking my clothes into the dresser on my side. Lucas blasted music from his phone while he tossed his own stuff around. He did not fold anything. Just shoved shirts and shorts into drawers.

I kept my back to him most of the time. Every time he moved, I noticed. The way his arms flexed when he lifted a box. The low hum he made under his breath when the song changed. I told myself it was just nerves. New house, new people, new everything. But my cheeks felt warm anyway.

Dinner that night was takeout pizza at the kitchen table. Our parents talked nonstop about the wedding and their honeymoon plans. Mark kept saying how nice it was to have a full house again. Lucas sat across from me, eating like he had not seen food in days. He caught me looking once and raised an eyebrow. I looked down at my plate fast.

After we cleared the table, our parents announced they were going out for a date. "You boys behave," Mom said with a wink. "We'll be back late."

The door clicked shut and it was just us.

I went upstairs and sat on my bed with a sketchbook. I did not feel like drawing anything specific. Just needed something to do with my hands. Lucas came in a few minutes later, kicked off his shoes, and flopped onto his bed. He scrolled on his phone for a while, then set it aside.

The silence stretched. I could hear the clock ticking downstairs.

I kept my pencil moving across the page, drawing random lines that did not add up to anything. My mind kept circling back to the same thought. This guy was my stepbrother now. We would eat breakfast together, go to the same school, share a bathroom. And I could not stop noticing how the room felt smaller with him in it.

Lucas shifted on his mattress. The springs creaked. "You always this quiet, or are you just scared you will like living here too much?"