To start with, I think he might ignore my question. He takes a while to think of an answer. “Because it’s more complicated than you think it is, alright? Tiffani’s… Look, don’t push it.” He pauses and fixes me with a look that tells me not to challenge him, so despite how frustrated I feel, I just frown and wait for him to speak again. “What’s the other option?”
“We ignore whatever we have between us.” It hurts to say it, but I know it makes sense. If he wants to stay with Tiffani, then we have to act like stepsiblings and nothing more. No discreet flirting, no stolen kisses, no sexual remarks. But if he wants that, then he can’t be with Tiffani. Because doing both is infamously known as cheating.
“So basically,” he starts as he folds his arms across his chest, “I get to be with you if I break up with Tiffani? It’s you or her, right?” The conceited expression is long gone by now. It’s been replaced with an aggravated glower, his eyes narrowed into small slits, his chin tilted up as he studies me. I don’t think it’s me he’s mad at though. I think he’s angry at the situation. I am too.
“Why are you acting surprised? That ultimatum is pretty obvious,” I remark dryly. “You should have known that it was going to come to this.”
As he clenches his jaw, he throws his head back and runs both hands through his hair. He mutters something under his breath before he turns around and stalks into the kitchen. I stomp my way into my room and slam the door loud enough for him to hear.
It’s only a matter of seconds before I begin doubting everything and torturing myself with questions. The biggest question of them all is this: why am I even attracted to Tyler in the first place?
I honestly cannot think of an acceptable answer. The whole thing is wrong. I’m attracted to my stepbrother, for starters, and the thought of anyone finding out is too much to bear. We’d be judged and frowned upon, banished from society. But it’s not just the stepbrother complication that’s got me baffled. It’s the fact that he has so many flaws, which I should hate, but I simply can’t bring myself to. At least not now. Why am I so fascinated by a guy who doesn’t seem to care about anything? I should hate him for being such an arrogant, egotistic jerk. But I can no longer despise him, despite how many inappropriate comments he makes, how many joints he smokes, and how much alcohol he consumes in the space of an hour, because I’m entirely convinced by now that he’s not simply doing it to look cool or to fit in with the guys he hangs out with. There’s something more to it all, something intriguing about who he really is beneath the tough guy that he’s trying to project. I’m so interested, so infatuated, and I’m falling for him.
I really wish I wasn’t.
Ella and Chase arrive home shortly after. She sticks her head into my room for a moment to check if I’m home yet, telling me that the house is too quiet and that it’s making her uncomfortable. I fake a small laugh before she heads next door to check on her eldest and most notorious son. I don’t remember hearing him disappear into his room, but I know he must have had the same idea as me, because I hear his voice through the walls.
They bicker back and forth for a minute or so before Ella gives up and leaves him alone again. I wonder if it’s a repetitive cycle for her. She tries to get through to him, he yells back at her, she gives up. Over and over and over again. It seems like a part of her daily routine.
She comes back up later to coax me out of my room for dinner. I’m reluctant to go downstairs, but she leaves no room for arguing, so I follow her to the kitchen. Dad and Chase are sat in their usual spots, their eyes following me as I make my way to the table. And Tyler’s there too, of course.
“Hungry?” Dad asks, his tie loosened around his neck as he stretches back in his chair.
“No,” I say as I force myself to maintain eye contact with him. I can feel Tyler’s death stare boring holes into my skin from across the table. “How was the meeting?”
Dad shrugs. “It was alright.”
“Dave,” Ella says as she places a dish of barbecue ribs on the table—at which Tyler gags—before moving over to Dad and placing her hands on his shoulders. “You said it went really well.”
He glances up at her as she soothingly rubs her thumbs over the back of his neck, and his lips quirk into a smile as they hold each other’s gaze. He used to smile at my mom that way, back when they were happy together. Those small gestures and exchanges stopped long before the divorce. “Hmm,” he says as his eyes move back over to meet mine. “The meeting went great.”
“Good,” I say.
There’s an abrupt screech as Tyler pushes his chair away from the table and gets to his feet. He shakes his head at the food and scrunches up his face in disdain. “I can’t sit here. I’m heading back upstairs.”
Ella’s smile fades from her face within a nanosecond, her hands resting on Dad’s broad shoulders. “But yours is just comin—”
“I’ve got some stuff to do,” he cuts in as he advances toward the hall without giving me a second glance. “I’ll heat it up later.”