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Stepbrother Inked(6)

By:Violet Blaze


"Friday at eight," I told him and then left the shop in a hurry.



I opened the door to my fridge and paused, listening to the sounds of  downtown Eugene leak in through the cracked windows. I have my own  place. God. It had felt like this day would never come. I shoved the  six-pack of beer onto the glass shelf and shut the door, turning around  and leaning against the stainless steel surface as I closed my eyes and  took a deep breath. Somehow I could sense that I was standing at a  crossroads and that in front of me, a hundred doors sat waiting for me  to pick a path  –  if only I wasn't blind enough to not notice what was  standing in my way.

"Are you being contemplative again?" Addi asked me, stumbling into the  kitchen with a different heel on each foot. She paused and held her arms  out to either side, looking sexy and confident in a white cotton  T-shirt dress with a graphic print splashed across the front. "Don't  answer that. I know you were, so don't lie to me. Now, stop being so  goddamn intellectual and be shallow with me for five seconds. Gray suede  bootie or classic black pump?"

"I, uh," I began, but Addison held out her hands, palms forward. Her  nails were splashed with color, flickering like little orange fireflies  as she gestured at me.

"No, no, no. You're right. You're so right. Just because I'm going to  dinner with Patrick's parents doesn't mean I have to dress like a  frump." Addi kicked off her black pump while I chuckled and watched her  limp back to her bedroom. "It's not like I haven't met them before, you  know?" She reappeared a moment later and paused, her phone in her hand  and a frown on her face. It took me a second to realize that she meant  tonight. She was going out tonight.                       
       
           



       

"Wait," I said, fear gripping my throat like a noose, choking the air  out of me. Last thing I wanted was to end up here by myself with Flor.  Needless to say, we didn't spend a lot of alone time together. I mean,  moving day had been the exception, not the rule. I blinked to clear my  irrational fear of my stepbrother and took a breath. "You didn't tell me  you were going out tonight." The words tumbled out as an accusation and  I watched as Addi raised an eyebrow at me.

"It was last minute. Patrick's actually thinking of moving here, Abi. If  he does, that could change my life. You know how I feel about long  distance relationships, even one as strong as ours. I thought I might  lose him when I moved here." She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I knew  why she'd moved here: for me. It's not often that you find friends  who'll choose you over their boyfriends or girlfriends. As far as I  knew, it was virtually unheard of. But Addison and I had grown up  together, quite literally. My dad used to take me to 'Mommy and Me'  playdates hosted by Addi's mom. The other moms thought he was a weirdo,  but Addison's mom saw him for what he really was: a man whose wife had  given birth and bailed. He was just trying to take care of me the way he  thought she should've, be both a father and a mother. I think that was  another reason Addison had moved all this way for me; I had this aura  about me that drew out the maternal instincts in people, like I was this  motherless vacuum that needed to be filled with nurturing and caring. I  hated to admit it, but that was probably true in a lot of ways. I mean,  it wasn't that I couldn't take care of myself, but rather that I was  almost too good at it. Fun was usually only in my vocabulary when it was  forced on me.

"Thank you, Addi," I said, because I knew I needed to, because I wanted  to, because I secretly thought she'd be a hell of a lot happier soaking  up the sun in La Jolla. She'd originally wanted me to join her, to be a  UC San Diego Triton, but I couldn't pry myself away from my hometown  –   or rather, from someone who lived in my hometown.

Addi got tears in her eyes  –  not unusual because really, she cried a  whole hell of a lot  –  and then reached out her arms for a hug. I moved  over to her and let her wrap me up, hoping she wouldn't really cry and  mess up her makeup. It was fabulous, by the way, a gold and brown blend  of perfection that curved up towards her brow and gave her a sharp, sexy  look that I envied.

"His parents want to scope out the city. They're typical Californians,  you know. Oregon is so raffish and uncultured, it's practically all  wilderness up there! If I take them out tonight, show them a good time,  maybe they'll change their minds? I mean, they flew up here last minute  because of me." Or rather, because of me, I thought, but decided not to  say anything aloud.

"There's plenty of kale salad and green juice to go around. I don't  think you'll have a problem." I pulled away from my best friend and  tried not to fidget. Normally, I wouldn't care if she went out. She  didn't have to tell me every little thing she did, but  …  then again, she  didn't know Flor was coming over. For some reason, I suddenly didn't  want to tell her.

"Abigail Ingram Sharp," she said, putting on her best maternal voice.  Admittedly, it was kind of scary. I was already nervous for those future  three kids she talked about having. "What's wrong? Come on, spill it." I  turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed a rag from a drawer and took  the bottle of Windex in my other hand. Sometimes when I was nervous, I  cleaned. It had worked for me before. If I scrubbed the crap out of some  tile countertops, things would work out okay. Right?

"Nothing's wrong," I lied, spraying the already clean surface in front  of me and wiping it rhythmically with the rag. A knock at the door  startled me enough that I dropped the Windex on the floor. The top came  flying off and blue liquid went everywhere. One quick glance at the  clock told me it was only six  –  way too early for Florian to be here.  Both Addison and I paused as keys sounded in the lock and a few seconds  later, my stepbrother was waltzing in dressed in a tight red T-shirt,  dark jeans and boots. His hair was in that sexy stage between wet and  dry, tousled up and left to fend for itself. I swallowed hard against  the image.

"Where'd you get a key?" I demanded, standing in a puddle of Windex  while Addison looked from me to Flor and back again. She'd already  figured it out, I knew. Damn it. We'd had plenty of talks about my  stepbrother, most of them consisting of her yelling at me for being so  goddamn obsessive. Let it go or try it out, Abigail. You only have two  choices. Stop agonizing over the decision and just make one. "Because I  know I didn't give you one." I glanced back at Addi, her lips parted  slightly, her eyes taking in the scene with interest.                       
       
           



       

"Don't look at me."

"I stole it off your key ring, you dope," Flor said, tossing the mass of  metal in his hand on the counter. He paused for a moment to glance down  at the Windex and then looked up at me with a shake of his head.  "What'd you do now? What the hell is this shit?" I pursed my lips and  threw the rag in the sink, grabbing a roll of paper towels and bending  down to clean up the mess. Flor followed after me and reached out to  take the roll from me, brushing his fingers against mine. My breath  caught and even through the sharp smell of Windex, I could practically  taste his scent, that same citrusy shampoo he'd been using for years. A  warm flush crept up from below and colored my cheeks with heat.

I drew back my hand and pretended not to notice.

"Why are you so dressed up, Addi?" he asked without bothering to look  over his shoulder. Addison was staring at me strangely and I just knew  she was about thirty seconds away from calling off her date with Patrick  and his parents.

I stood up suddenly and gave her a look.

"What time are you supposed to meet them?" I asked as she continued to  stare at me. Her caramel-brown eyes narrowed and her lips, slathered in  bright red, twisted to the side in a suspicious gesture. I forced myself  to smile because Flor was looking up at me, his dark hair falling over  his brow, his eyes bright and intelligent and way, way, way too  intuitive. "Patrick and his parents, I mean," I added before he could  ask.

Flor finished wiping up the Windex and stood, turning to glance at Addi.

"You bailing on us or something?" he asked and although his voice was  light, I felt something there, beneath his words, trapping us both.  Shit. I closed my eyes and did what I always did: I thought of our  parents. Well, my dad and his mom. I thought of them, how in love they  were, how long they'd been together and I made myself realize  –  for  probably the millionth time  –  that there was no way in hell this taboo  little crush I was nursing was going to pan out.