Tangled In My Step-brother's Sheet

Elena's POV.

“This is it, Elena,” she said. “A fresh start for us.”

My mother squeezed my hand, her smile bright with excitement as she admired the house.

A fresh start. Those words sounded nice, but they didn’t feel real. Nothing about this move felt real.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and took a deep breath, forcing myself to smile back at her. “Yeah, Mom. It’s beautiful.”

She didn’t seem to notice the hesitation in my voice. She was too happy, too caught up in the romance fantasy she had built with her new husband, James Pierce.

I, on the other hand, felt completely out of place.

I didn’t belong in a mansion like this. I had spent my whole life in a small apartment with my mom, just the two of us. Now, I was supposed to fit into this huge house with my new stepfather and his son.

Logan Pierce.

My new stepbrother.

The thought made my stomach twist.

I had only met Logan once before, at the wedding two months ago. He had barely spoken to me, just giving me a quick nod before disappearing into the crowd. I remembered how he had stood apart from everyone, arms crossed, his sharp hazel eyes watching the party like he didn’t want to be there.

And now, I had to live under the same roof as him.

A butler, an actual butler, opened the door for us. Mom stepped in eagerly, and I followed, my sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floor. 

The inside of the house was even more gorgeous than the outside. A grand staircase curled up to the second floor, a massive chandelier hanging above it. 

Everything smelled expensive, like fresh flowers and leather.

James appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling warmly. “Rebecca, Elena! Welcome home.”

Mom rushed up to greet him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. I stayed back, suddenly feeling awkward.

Then I saw him. 

I had to make sure I wasn't dreaming. My one night stand.

He stood halfway up the staircase, leaning against the railing with one hand in his pocket. His dark hair was slightly messy like he had just rolled out of bed. He wore a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, looking effortlessly hot.

His gaze landed on me and I could sense him tense for a moment.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then, he smirked.

“Welcome, little sister. Logan's the name.” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Little sister.

I hated those words.

Something about the way he said them made icy ants crawl on my skin. It wasn’t just the fact that we weren’t related by blood. It was the way his eyes lingered on me for too long, the way his smirk deepened when he noticed my reaction.

I cleared my throat and forced a polite smile. “Thanks.”

He pushed off the railing and walked down the stairs, stopping just a few feet away from me. Up close, he was even taller than I remembered, towering over me without even trying.

“You’re in my way,” he said.

I stepped aside quickly, my face heating up. He walked past me without another word, disappearing down the hallway.

Great.

This was going to be fun.

I spent the next hour unpacking in my new room. It was too big, too fancy, with a princess-like bed and a balcony that overlooked the garden. I sat on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the soft comforter.

This wasn’t my life.

It felt like I had stepped into someone else’s story, playing a role I didn’t understand.

A knock on the door made me jump.

“Come in,” I called.

Mom peeked inside, her face full of excitement. “Do you like it?”

I nodded. “It’s… a lot.”

She laughed. “I know it’s different, but you’ll get used to it. James wants you to feel at home here.”

I forced another smile. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Her eyes softened. “I know this is a big change, but I really think this is good for us.”

I wanted to believe her.

She kissed my forehead and left me alone.

I let out a deep breath and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

I had a bad feeling about all of this.

Dinner that night was something else.

James and Mom chatted happily, talking about some business trip he had next week. I pushed my food around my plate, too aware of the person sitting across from me.

Logan.

He barely touched his food, instead scrolling through his phone with one hand while lazily twirling a fork in the other. His jaw tightened slightly whenever James spoke, but he didn’t say anything.

I could feel his eyes on me every now and then, but I refused to look up.

“So, Elena,” James said suddenly. “Are you excited to start school here?”

I blinked. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

I wasn’t.

I hated the idea of being the new girl again.

Logan let out a quiet chuckle. I glanced at him, and he smirked.

“What’s funny?” I asked, my brows slightly raising in annoyance.

“Nothing,” he said, taking a bite of his steak. “Just wondering how long you’ll last.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “This school isn’t like whatever place you came from.”

“I can handle myself.” I gritted my teeth.

“We’ll see.” His smirk deepened.

I couldn’t sleep that night 

I tossed and turned for what felt like an hour. Giving up, I slipped out of bed and decided to get some water.

I walked down the hall in my pajamas. 

As I reached the kitchen, I froze.

Logan was already there.

He leaned against the counter, drinking straight from a water bottle. He was shirtless; the soft glow of the fridge light reflected on his toned muscles and Gosh! He's freaking hot.

I should have turned around. I should have walked away.

But I didn’t.

His eyes were on me, and for a second, we just stared at each other.

I swallowed. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He took another sip before setting the bottle down. “Nope.”

I hesitated before walking over to get a glass. As I poured some water, I could feel him watching me.

“You’re jumpy,” he said.

I scoffed. “I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

I turned to face him, crossing my arms. “Do you always enjoy messing with people?”

He stepped closer. Not too close, but just enough to make my breath increase.

“Only when they’re fun to mess with,” he said, his voice low.

My heart beat rapidly.

I should have said something, should have walked away.

Instead, I stood there, trapped in his gaze.

I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t understand why my skin felt hot or why my stomach fluttered whenever he smirked at me.

This was wrong.

He was my stepbrother.

And yet, as he leaned in just slightly, his eyes looking down to my lips before meeting my gaze again, surprisingly I wanted more, wanted him to do more.

I didn’t want him to stop.